Smoothies

Whydnai I stick with them before? Honey they are the answer to getting nutrition in at one shot!!

I saw this pic in the last issue of Oprah as I was waiting for Nosh to be done with school and it was of a glass with cut up bananas one part, strawberries the same equal part and blueberries the same equal part. The image stuck with me and at BJs last weekend I bought a bag of frozen blueberries, (my sub-conscious at work.)

Yesterday I listened to a mom talk about how her kid was gorging on fruits and veggies and suddenly it just occurred to me that the pic had stuck in me brain for a reason. My kids dont have a problem per se eating them  (who am i kidding) but this way - they go in all at one time! WOWOWOWOWOWOW!

I made the smoothie yest, gingerly, wondering if the drain was going to get the benefits of all those fruits. Surprise surprise, the kids lapped it up. I sat there, at the table, you could have knocked me out with a feather. 

All the mental preparation I do to make sure Nosh n Reh get their fruit and veggies, preparing for deals and cajoling them, actually planning which day to give what and when when all of it could go down like a tasty pill was magic. I could feel a knot unravel itself in my shoulder. lol...no really. The younger they were the easier it was to get them to eat. The older they get, the more inventive my dealings have to be. Next time I could put in a dollop of ice cream and it'll go down even more faster. Good thing summer's round the corner!

P.S. today I popped in carrots too and they didnt miss a thing!

Yes, We Did!

OMG it's finally happened!

I was hoping against hope Obama would win and he won and how. You have to be here to feel the palpable newness in the air, the excitement of being part of this momentous occasion. I can't technically vote but my family could and of course, the thrill of it all coming to fruition last night, in the early hours of this morning was amazing.

It's like being born again and I think it would be safe to say America has redeemed itself. I had all these thoughts, emotions and feelings swirling around me, so much I wanted to put down that now finally as I type I am a mixed jumble of emotions. I can't tell you enough or how much it feels like we were different people till yesterday and today it feels completely different to be here. The way this one man has changed the consciousness of the world is not put downable in words. Watching Jesse Jackson, Oprah, Toni Morrison and hundreds of other African Americans just beholding this moment and weeping for realising that what their ancestors put in motion hundreds of years ago has now come full circle was indescribable to say the least. The only thing I knew, was that something about the values and ideals that this country was founded on finally stood the test of time and it's people celebrated it's spirit, bigtime.

Personally speaking, I feel like for me, it's a new beginning just because I'm part of something bigger, much bigger than myself. To actually feel good about where I am right now in my life. To know that along with a nation, my own personal life can just change, its upto me, I can leave whatever I want behind and feel free to choose how I want to live, feel and do starting anytime. I feel like some really old majorly painful loops in my head just stopped turning yesterday. They just withered up and disappeared. Strange I know but thats exactly what happened. I feel a renewed energy, a oneness with everyone I am with, an excitement about the future. It's not all talk anymore - the thing about America being whoever's wants it to be and has the industriousness to get it. It is now a reality. My children could not have witnessed this at a better time than now.

61% of people who voted for Obama were white. That feels good. Just knowing that it really is about what you stand for and your work that people want to see now.

Ripples of change, tidal waves of change, you sure did bring it on Obama. When and if I do become an American citizen, I will feel a hell lot better about it now than I ever did before.

Thank You Obama. For believing in yourself, for being the person you are and your Dad was right when he named you a Blessing. Thank you to all your family who raised a wonderful man like you and we cant wait to see you Michelle, your daughters and the new puppy in the White House soon.

One more piece that fit the puzzle

I read this article in the July Issue of Real Simple magazine. (that's another weird thing about me - I love reading old issues more than the current ones). It fixed some old hurt, filled some void, brought me back on track from some detour I had taken sometime while growing up.
I wish I could just add it as a link but cant because I cant locate it anywhere on the online version of the magazine. I loved it so much though that I'm going to type it all out here. Maybe you guys might like it too. Lemme know if you do. And then next hopefully the library will have her books...

It's called 'unforgettable, that's what you are' and its by Erica Wagner.
Here goes:


THE SUMMER I WAS SEVEN, my parents and I drove from our New York City home to the small town of Quechee, Vermont, to visit friends. Mush of that trip has left me with indelible memories. I remember the sticky red vinyl seats in my Dad's Volkswagen Beetle; the cool, green swimming pond in our friends backyard; and their milk-shake machine - a real one, a Hamilton Beach. It was idyllic, that house and the land and the ancient trees. What I remember most, however? One particular tuna-fish sandwich, which evolved in my memory into an icon and embodiment of childhood bliss.

I encountered the world's best tuna-fish sandwich by accident. My parents had taken me off to explore the countryside, and after a morning of adventuring (visiting a glass-blowing factory, skipping stones on a creek), we needed lunch. We looked for a place to stop but found nothing. I grew hungry and then hungrier. Hours passed, or so it seemed. My parents, frustrated, burst into giddy laughter as time wore on and we still could find nowhere to stop and eat. And then, around the bend in the road,my dad spotted a white clapboard building with a neat sign hanging from the eaves, proclaiming it to be a diner. I did'nt think so-diners are streamlined and silver, not quaint little houses but never mind. We parked and went in, where were welcomed by a middle-aged lady with a lilting accent. She and her husband (the owners) were Swedish and to this day we refer to them as Mr. and Mrs. Swedish.

They sat us down and I ordered a tuna-fish sandwich. I liked tuna then. I like it now, though these days I might eat it seared or raw out of a pretty Italian jar with extra-virgin olive oil. But back then when I was a kid, the tuna sandwich was my default. And that day I needed something fast and reliable, something that wouldnt disappoint.

Talk about an understatement. The sandwich was the most delicious thing I've ever eaten: perfection on white toast, bound with mayonnaise.. I remember the smiling Swedishes refilling my parents' coffee cups and the sunlight through their yellow curtains. (Maybe even then I had an inkling that the sandwich alone was'nt the whole story, that the snack was somehow a signifier of transcendence.) How much mayo in the mix? How much celery? Was the tuna from a can packed with oil or water? I have no idea.

But I do know this: For the past 30 years, I've searched for a comparable sandwich. The search is often subconscious; I'll buy a tuna-fish sandwich without thinking much about it and eat it while reading the newspaper at my desk, and halfway through, the miraculous sandwich of my childhood springs to mind, and the invariably disappointing one I'm eating turns to dust in my mouth. Then suddenly (and predictably) I'll crave that sandwich.

Now and then, Ive actually looked for it. I live in England, and over here they put sweet corn in tuna salad. (My son, born and raised in England, thinks there's nothing wrong with sweet corn in tuna, but I love him anyway.) Since no tuna salad made with sweet corn can be considered in the Miracle Tuna Stakes, my searches for a restaurant that will replicate the Swedishes' achievement have been mostly confined to periodic Stateside trips. (Despite the nationality of the owners, I've never searched in Scandinavia. That sandwich was the very definition of All-American.) When I'm Stateside I'm indefatigable. I'm not looking for some fancy bistro. That place in Vermont was the opposite of fancy. In fact, I might find myself, one day peering through the doorway of a hole in the wall with a neon sign in the window flashing, COLD BEER, and think, Hey this might be it!

It never is - even if I wait until I'm as starving as I was that long-lost day. The lettuce is limp; the bread, stale. The tuna is too salty or too gummy-tuna that would be happier still in it's can. Or, at one of those New York downtown joints that pretend to be a diner but never really are (macchiato in a diner? I think not), the tuna might be tricked up, laced with paprika, sprinkled with sesame seeds, served on a brioche when I'd hoped for the stalwart comfort of plain white toast. Even on the rare occasion that sandwich is fine, it's just that-fine.

At this point, I usually turn back to my own kitchen, thinking Surely I can do better myself. I'm a reasonably confident cook, after all, and just how hard can a tuna sandwich be? Plenty hard it turns out, if you are after perfection, chasing a dream.

Sometimes I abandon the search completely, loading my own tuna salads with capers, olives, thinly sliced roasted red peppers, homemade mayo laced with lime, scatterings of fresh coriander leaves. But then I remember what I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm seduced again into trying to replicate the mythic lunch of my youth.

I've decided that both proportion and texture are critical. So to start, I choose tuna packed in oil-none of this slenderizing water nonsense, which leads to tuna that is dryish and tastes like nothing. For Mayo I stick to Hellman's and I think celery is a must-add, though not too much and you do have to destring the pesky stuff. A little salt, a little pepper and maybe a wee squeeze of lemon.

I've come close with this version, but never close enough. Once frustrated, I even threw everything in the food processor, thinking that a few judicious pulses would do the trick. The result was gloop. I've mashed with a fork, I've crumbled with my fingers, I've diced celery so fine you could pass it through a sieve. I've cut the mayo with a spoonful of sour cream. (neat idea no?) and yet.....No matter what I do, the perfect tuna sandwich continues to elude me. The other day I actually considered giving up, though not out of a sense of defeat. I was making a tuna sandwich for my son, standing at the counter pouring, yes, sweet corn kernels into a bowl. I was hungry, but I was'nt sure what for. I thought of my father who died last year. I thought, once again, of the tuna-salad sandwich I ate that day in Vermont, and then of the Volkswagen Beetle, and my parents laughing up front and me rattling around in the back, not wearing a seat belt because no one did it back then. I remember the trees blurred and bending as my Dad took the curves, and the diner appearing like an oasis, and the hollowness in my belly as I waited, at seven years old for my lunch. That day, the place, the drive, my love for my parents, and the feeling, perhaps for the first time in my life, of absolute hunger followed by absolute satiety.

Hunger, of course, never really goes away. The hunger for tuna fish, the hunger for love. And especially a hunger for the perfect moment you wish you could resurrect as easily as you can make a sandwich. But maybe savoring a memory does'nt have to mean reconstructing it. Maybe, in fact, that constant attempt at reconstruction keeps you from relishing what's happening now--now , and next week and next year. So that day, standing in my kitchen, I resolved: I would continue to revel in my most delicious of memories but try to be hungry for, and satisfied by, my life-and even my lunch today-today.

So...

Well three weeks into school and its been a sea-change at home. The most obvious change is not having Nosh around. Second is that since Reh goes for half a day, we're able to spend one on one time with each other and that is a huge blessing. I see a huge change in his behaviour when he and I can just spend time together without him competing for it from everyone else. I also see that it's so much more easier since he's older, I know how to handle him, I've been in more demanding situations and him alone is a piece of cake by far. He just enjoys the spotlight on him.

But Nosh, O My God, I miss her so much. Without going into the low-points of it, I think I want to outline what I can do to maximise our time together and make it just as effective and special.

I used to not let her help with household chores, mainly because I felt it would stop the flow of my doing things the way I do them and well - bottom line it was just a distraction. Now though I can see that's the best way for us to spend time together because we'd be in physically close and talking and once Reh's got his fill he's not around clamoring for attention. Washing clothes should be fun, lettings her load the machine and pour soap. Leaving plastic dishes for her to scrub and rinse should be fun, God knows she's been asking me every night for the past coupla years practically. But most excitingly, I think I'm going to let her cook. As in prep food for cooking or even simple things like salads -getting the food, washing, arranging et al. She's a craftsbody so I do have to get her one of those project tables, I'm tired of seeing glue, scraps, fabric, scissors in the most oddest of places. Yesterday I switched on the treadmill and a scissor fell out the top ledge. There was a colouring book and box of crayons by the toilet. Someone was busy by it while on it?!!

We have a major re-arranging of furniture to do. I have to get my own work table move all my stuff out of Noshs room. We bought her a desk and hutch when we moved in here but I was using it. Now she has her own books, homework, folders, projects, things to put away in drawers, I have to give her back her desk! I have to get one for Reh too, he's never had one, the dining table was our be-all, end-all table but I'm tired of carting stuff from one room to another. I'm also tired of having things in different drawers all over the house, I'd rather everyone had their things in their own rooms. So much to do!

Nosh got her own library card yesterday!!!!! And we went at 8 at night because I decided we have to celebrate and she picked out her own books, checked them out with her own card and was hopping and skipping all the way home. I was too. Thank God it was dark in the parking lot. It's another thing that she still cant see the librarian on the other side of the high table though!! I'm not redundant yet!

We had Meet The Teacher night two days ago and her teacher is someone more than I could have asked for. She has 10 children of her own (same marriage, no multiple kids), I know that gets mixed reactions but for me it means she loves children among other things. nine boys and a girl. After her last kid was 2 and ready for school, she was mortified about having no kids around her and then decided to get her Masters in Education from Adelphi and got into one of the best schools in NY (ours ;) but taught 2nd grade for 12 years. The minute she heard last year that they were making KG a full-time program this year and the former teacher was retiring, she hot-footed it to the Principal and begged (in her words) to be allowed to teach KG and she was and this is her dream come true. So its another adavantage in my eyes that she's back to doing what she loves to do for the first time this year.

They had a KG teachers convention this summer vacation. Guess where? Vegas!!! LOL!!!! She went, was delighted to meet more than a 1000 KG teachers from all over the country and came away with some valuable lessons. One of which (I have to tell you guys this- its so brill) There is a Home station in the classroom with pretend kid-sized kitchen, cribs for babies etc etc. You can imagine the amount of things that would be in there. When the kids are done it used to be a pain for the teachers to put everything back (hey! us at home here too!) so one of the things she learnt at the convention was to take pictures of what each cupboard, area looked like clean, what goes where, and the kids have a great time, seriously coming and looking at the pics to see what goes where and diligently reproduce the same neatness! I thought it was a great idea, a game even. I'm going to do the same soon!

She was so excited about the school year and one thing she said made me eyes tear up. She told me that the first day we went too, the day me, nosh and reh got a surprise visit. She said she would do everything possible in her power to make sure my child would feel 'safe'. Which means creating a space where she wouldn't feel ridiculed no matter what, every feeling, every question, every thought would be validated and just the feeling that no matter how or where she was in her life, she was going to be accepted wholeheartedly. Now, I know it's not easy for a teacher looking after 17 kids or so. But for her to know thats exactly what a child needs now and thats her main focus, I think her heart is in the right place. She's firm where she needs to be and her prescence of mind will be the right thing for the kids.

I think so.

She was nervous about talking to adults and I so understood that!!

No wonder Nosh has a woebegone look when its time to come home. She looks around prolonging the leaving, searching out every friend she can to wave bye to and dragging her feet.

Guess what - since we live close by, I dont drive to school, me and Reh walk it up and the three of us walk back together, talking about whatever happened in school. Of course winter wont allow us that lovely time soon.

One thing I came away with was that I think the most successful people are those whose parents let them be. I mean it's one thing to push them, help them out of their comfort zones and all that but its another thing to just let them grow at their own pace too. You can never be a child again and I know for sure if we as parents wanted, it Could be a wonderful place to be in. With all its insecurities and fear and wonder. I just hope I can be that mom. Before anyone writes in saying they're sure I am and all that, trust me, I know I could have done a million times better. So its not looking for validation. I have let my sensitive kid be toughened and broken promises many a time to let myself think I have been a sensitive, have my finger on your pulse mom. I have'nt. I wish I could have retained Noshi's sweetness the way it was coupla years ago. I'm certain its in there in her somewhere still but I see a layer of pretended and sometimes real nonchalance when I should be seeing the oppositte there. And I begin to berate myself for having ignored or toughened up on her. I think it was a result of having been mired in my own issues and also an irritation of wanting her to get independent sooner. I must have my heart in the right place though because I miss her even when she's asleep or downstairs and there are nights I've woken her up to apologise or make-up. Its another grace of God's though that he made little kids so ready to forgive and open to love. I think maybe when you're a kid, you only know how to love a parent. Center of universe and all that. I'm being blase' bcos it's so precious a feeling and I know I cant do justice to it.

I think these are the best years of my life. Woohoo!!!!