On Choosing Beer, Sushi & Happiness...

If you've been with me over on G+ this past week, then you know I've hit a patch of general fatigue, restlessness and malcontentment from working at home while being a stay at home parent. And I think those patches are just part and parcel of the overall human condition, but that are perhaps magnified or protracted by the stay at home parenting thing.

Not that some of us can't be really and truly fulfilled in that career path alone, but that a lot of us choose it for the time being because it is the path that makes the most sense for our families, even if we have the option to do it differently.

beer +

Actually, come to think of it, I've taken the other option in a past life too. I've worked full time with others caring for my children while I was at the office, and I can say that the same frustrations arise when your desire to be a present parent butts up against pretty much all your other non-parenting desires and ambitions.

Add to that the general fatigue of having a little one who still keeps odd hours that are not compatible with your own odd hours, and you are bound to have moments. Moments in which you would like to escape your life for just a few moments. Not that you don't love your life. And not that you're not grateful. But just that you're frustrated. And because against your better and sound judgment, it feels like there is nothing to be done to change your situation.

To make it worse, a piece of you wants to wallow in that frustration until it wells up in your chest and makes you want to cry in a big, pathetic heaping pile of self shitty pity.

The truth is, sometimes, there really is nothing to be done to change the situation right then and there. Sometimes, in order to be good, happy, healthy and fulfilled human beings, we have to commit for a time to things that frustrate us because it is truly the best for everyone, self included, in the long run. Sometimes, without giving up on ourselves and our dreams, we have to have patience for our temporary situations because we realize that they are serving a very good purpose.

sushi =

And sometimes the only good thing to be done in those moments when you can't, and perhaps shouldn't, be trying to alter the root cause of your frustration, is to choose to allow some totally unrelated but totally accessible thing to make you happy in the moment and to make the necessary wait less painful.

It only took me 15 minutes of straight bitching, moaning, whining and downloading to The (Very Empathetic) Man after he asked what he could do for me to stop and look in his eyes long enough to see his genuine desire to help me through the moment by doing something, anything, to make it better. And to realize that nothing I was doing was helping or allowing him to help me and partner with me, through this piece of our life together.

It was only after speaking the same frustrations and annoyances aloud in several different words and crying into the dishes that I was so fucking sick of washing and running out of different ways to express the same nowhere leading negativity that I realized how tiring, and frankly tiresome, I was being. To both of us.

But I didn't want Dean to take Izzy off my hands while I left the house. I'd missed him all day. And I didn't want him to take over the dishes because my irrational compulsion to finish them, because I'd started them, wouldn't let me let him do the dishes. And in the end, I don't really want to go back to work in an office right now. I love being home with Izzy, and I'd be a fool not to cherish a second chance to cherish one of my children in a way life had not allowed for before...

But the road to Impossibly Unhappy is paved with those kinds of can'ts and wont's. And before you know it, you've set down so many stones, you're practically there.

So I had to pick something, anything, in that moment, and allow it to make me happy. And perhaps more importantly, to allow Dean to make me happy.

Beer and sushi.

That's never not made us happy.

And Dean was truly happy to oblige.

And I was happy.

For the beer and the sushi of course.

But mostly for the choice I made to let the beer and sushi and Dean make me happy. ^^

happiness ^^

shinae

On Tiny Tyrants, the Importance of QT & Date Night @ PAON, Carlsbad...

When the big monsters were babies, I always had built-in family babysitters if I ever wanted or needed to go anywhere, so it wasn't that long ago that I thought the mere concept of Date Night a silly one. I likened it to one of those clumsy, rife with expectation and potential for failure sitcom scenarios in which a marriage counselor tells you to get gussied up, "accidentally" meet at a bar, pretend to be strangers, try to seduce one another, and let the general awkwardness and hilarity of role playing ensue.

a goat cheese and puff pastry small bite to
enjoy with our wine tasting

Because - who does that? 

I mean, who needs to try that hard to spend a little QT with someone to whom you have presumably cleaved for the rest of your life??

And aren't you spending all kinds of time with that person anyway???

Don't you live under the same roof and sleep in the same bed????

Well, YES. You do generally breathe the same air, eat the same food, sleep under the same covers, vegetate on the same couch and zombie walk through the same hallway...

carrying over the paon (French for peacock) theme...

Because you are also both slaves to a tiny, curious, wide eyed tyrant who demands you pay whatever is left of your frayed, frazzled and generally sleep deprived resources to her, loves to climb things and terrorize the family pet, thinks sleep is for weenies and weaklings, and only succumbs to it as briefly as is needed to recharge her evil but adorable internal Energizer bunny battery. Oh, and when she does, it's sideways, in the middle of your bed. And she happens to be a very tall evil but adorable tiny tyrant...

And then all those hours spent in the same space are no longer together. What's left of you is often tired, testy, and generally unfit for human consumption. Someone is getting the Q from your T, and it's not either one of you.

La Cuadrilla 2011 by Stolpman Vineyards

Which is mostly as it should be. That someone is only little once, and in the grand scheme of things, only for a short while.

But then one day, and sooner than you know it, she'll be off in her own home, fighting her own sleep deprived battles with her own tiny tyrant, trying to find some QT with the father of said tiny tyrant, and the two of you will have several many chapters of your lives left to spend together with more T on your hands than you've ever had before and know what to do with.

Veal Sweetbreads

Whether there's any Q in that T will largely depend on whether you took and/or made opportunities to nurture your relationship and give it a life both integrated with, and independent of, your parenting careers.

And all of a sudden, Date Night starts to sound not only like a not silly thing to do, but an absolutely intelligent and necessary thing to do.

Mission Fig Salad

A few unhurried hours away in which you can both remember yourself, the other, and your relationship for what it is and can be beyond the things that take you away from it - even the good things, like tiny, amazing, adorable, precious tyrants.

Enter Paon Restaurant and Wine Bar. A rare find in our neck of the woods - a lovely, quiet and relaxed environment with a sophisticated but casual menu, a great wine selection, music that lends to the ambience and doesn't detract with its volume, a proprietor who still makes the rounds to ensure the quality of your experience, and friendly, attentive, unobtrusive and ungimmicky service. All for about what it would cost to eat at that noisy, mediocre, overrated, oversalted upper-ish end chain restaurant.

Braised Beef Short Rib

The kind of place that was made for Date Night.

That we happened to stumble upon their inaugural wine tasting event and were warmly invited to partake of it was just extra scrummy caramel sauce on our cannoli.

Cannoli with Banana Creme & Caramel Sauce

A little splurge at their wine shop didn't hurt, either. 

And then you come home nourished, refreshed, recharged, reenergized, and recommitted.

To each other.

And all your awesome current, and once were, tiny tyrants.

Date Night. It's not just for weenies anymore.

shinae

Paon Restaurant & Wine Bar
2975 Roosevelt Street
Carlsbad, CA 92008
760.729.7377
www.paoncarlsbad.com

Full album HERE.

On Gardening and Growing Big Little Things...

Although I am a much more present and patient mother for Isabella than I was over a decade ago for Joe and Mads when they were babies, I will fully admit that I am still not a mother who was made to mother babies.

I know what some people are going to say - that no one is ever really prepared for motherhood, that mostly all of us do the best we can, and all that kind of stuff we say with the best of intentions to comfort and assuage those others of us who just aren't quite as gifted or inclined toward caring for the littlest ones.

fresh thyme

But I am TOTALLY ok with the fact that that I am much more naturally amenable, capable, and competent a mother for slightly older children.

That's not to say that I am not very much enjoying and learning to appreciate what it is to be a new mother again at 40, but learning is the key word here. I have talent for some things, and that talent has certainly bumped the learning curve on the things at which I'm gifted, but this mothering babies thing - well, I am always trying and learning. Specially the whole how to stay at home full time while mothering a little baby. That staying successfully, happily and fulfilled-ly at home full time with a baby thing - that is taking a lot of trying and learning.

And one of the things it's teaching me this time around, because I'm so much more ready to learn it, is a sense of wonderment and accomplishment from the "little" things (that we know are much bigger but are probably so named because we can miss them in the blink of an eye if we're not paying attention...).

as yet unidentified white bulb flower

Watching Izzy conquer her baby milestones, being here to witness the glee and pride in her big two-toofed, squirrel-cheeked, ear-to-ear grin, and realizing how blessed I am to have the chance to do it better this time than I did the last - that's a big little thing for me.

Being able to remind myself in a moment of utterly sleep-deprived and exhausted frustration when I think she's being a little nutjob baby how fortunate we are that she is healthy enough to be a nutjob baby - another big little thing.

And finding other ways, while I am however temporarily away from the paid in money work force, to derive a sense of fulfillment, achievement, evolution, purpose and productivity, to feed the pieces of me that don't answer when called "Mom," "Mommy," "Mother," or "Mama" - a truly big, essential, and sanity-saving little thing.

But the mind can only handle so much of the active and sometimes taxing - albeit rewarding- cerebral engagement it takes to write and photograph a recipe worth cooking or a blog post worth reading. And that whole domestic maintenance thing, while necessary, gets old from time to time...

Enter gardening.

resuscitated blueberry bush

A thing I never imagined in my much more impatient younger life that I would ever care to explore.

And yet it seems such a natural progression in my life at this juncture when I've finally learned to slow down, smell the roses, and be ok with doing my best and letting the rest unfold, not trying to control the uncontrollable, predict the unpredictable, or know the unknowable.

Better understanding both my abilities and limitations than I would have ten years ago, I've started out small. Just a few plants in the ground and a few more in pots.

the Christmas cactus that keeps on giving

And when I see new leaves sprouting on a blueberry bush I thought I'd killed, new little nodes on my Christmas cactus, a whole blanket of tiny thyme leaves coming in where I'd cut it back completely, new spearmint leaves growing like weeds just days after I've picked and eaten all the existing ones, and two new blossoms opening on some white bulb flower I transplanted from the side yard to the front, a big, huge, ear-to-ear, two-toofed, squirrel-cheeked grin wells up in the heart of my once black thumb.

That I get to share these big little milestones with y'all makes it all the sweeter.

Next up, it's four little garden beds for veg.

We're growing more big little things, a little at a time. :)

shinae

THANK YOU

Truth is, I never envisioned myself a Stay-at-Home mom.

And contrary to how many of my SAHM sistren on the interwebs make it look, it is often a difficult and lonely kind of job, despite the many intrinsic rewards.

Truth also is that I might not be one today, or at least I'd be much more reluctantly so, were it not for the camaraderie, support, encouragement, friendship, conversation, and creative outlet I have here, because of you.

And that makes doing what I do all the more fulfilling, rewarding, and truthfully, EASIER.

So THANK YOU is all. :)

shinae

Mother's Day Eve Chicken & Waffles

I always tell the Monsters that they don't need to buy me gifts. And I mean that sincerely. But I will always be more than happy to cook with them, which is gift enough for me. 

+Dean Robinson Izzysat while Joey and I made the Chicken and Waffles (storebought frozen Belgian waffles today, and my fried chicken recipe) and Mads and I worked together on our Broccoli Raisin Slawlad.

Two timers went off on Joey at the same time - the last batch of chicken and the waffles in the oven - and he learned yet another valuable kitchen lesson today: Whatever you do, DON'T PANIC, and just do what you can, trying to remember which is more urgent. In this case, the waffles were more urgent than the fried chicken because we didn't want them to go from perfectly done to crispy, so I helped him out by taking the waffles out of the oven while he fished the last of the chicken out of the oil.

The rest of them went for gravy instead of maple, I went for both, and Joey, the kid who drinks Worcestershire out of the bottle when he thinks I'm not looking, looked at me like I'm weird. 

Cooking with my kids, eating fried chicken with the whole family, drinking a cold beer... HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY EVE TO ME. :)

shinae

Full album HERE.

Shrimp Enchiladas with Guajillo Sauce (aka Mex & Margi Date Night @ Home)

The Man LOVES Mexican food.

And I used to make it for him much more often until that rotten baby came along. :P

It takes time to make a proper chile sauce, and guacamole, and rice, and beans, and we can't remember the last time we've had a truly good night's sleep, so cooking hasn't been all that involved lately.

This is how we frame shots when we are both
sleep deprived and starving...

But even if we can't get away from the babyparenting gig long enough for a proper date just yet, I figured I'd make him some somewhat proper Mexican food at home as a way to do something for us. 

Because Mex & Margis for some reason always seem to feed the most relaxed conversation and a real sense of QT. As much as we love to eat and drink all kinds of other stuff, this is just our thing.

Our menu tonight made with what was on hand:

- Shrimp Enchiladas with Guajillo Sauce
- Jasmine "Mexican" Rice
- Refried Black and Butter Beans topped with Feta Cheese (I find Feta to be a pretty decent substitute for queso fresco - hits those creamy, tangy, salty notes, and many of us are likely to have it on hand)
- Guacamole

Dean's contribution - margis, of course.

We don't have room for margi glasses in our lives.
Barely enough room for the bottles. :P

And with Izzy behaving fairly well for us at the dinner table, that was a lovely midweek date night in.

We need to do that more often. 

shinae

Full album HERE.

Back In Black - Day 20 (Saturday) & Something About Greasing Greased Wheels...

Sometimes, we're so busy tending to the issues generated by the more needy, difficult, or demanding people in our lives that we fail to appreciate the greased wheels who keep on keeping on, happy to take what they can get, containing themselves when self-containment is the order of the moment, and partaking cheerfully of good opportunities for interaction and togetherness when they are presented, with the most minimal requirements of the people around them.

Mads is one of life's greased wheels. A mostly joyful, agreeable, caring, empathic, and easily pleased kind of child who takes her happiness where she can get it, whether it be in alone time with imaginary friends, together time with real ones, an opportunity to practice some dance moves in the back yard alone, a movie with the family, a walk on the beach (or just around the neighborhood) with us, a cupcake, or a Drumstick.

We took three because she thought the first two
made her eyes a little too squinty in the sunlight.

And because she's so easily contented, and because there are often other people and things vying for my attention, it's also easy to forget sometimes how deserving she is of my undivided attention. Not just because she's my child, but because of all she does (and does not) that keeps her little moving corner of our household calm, peaceful, and a generally nice space to occupy.

I love that we both find satisfaction in the little things -
like perfectly blue skies and pretty white clouds.

So we headed out Saturday morning for some coffee, hot chocolate, pastries, and girl time. That all it took to make her happy was a mention of hot chocolate and a little time together is pretty much indicative of her M.O. She wants so little in the first place and then is grateful to get just a piece of it.

It made me happy that she found the pain au chocolat at Petite Madeline (we went to a patisserie that shared her name, minus an *e*) to her satisfaction. She specially liked the crust, she said. But then it's just like Mads to be able to find something specially good in just about any circumstance.

I find it fitting that Mads was born on December 22. A truly perfect Christmas present for a mom who isn't all that concerned with exact dates. :)

BREAKFAST

was an almond palmier from Petite Madeline. I'm guessing they must have named the bakery after a person because they spell "madeleine" correctly in the display case. My Mads, on the other hand, shares her name with that most delightfully buttery of petite cakes from France.

And the first creamed coffee in a while.

LUNCH

was four goi cuon. A light lunch before heading over to our friends' place for Mex, beer, and margaritas.

DINNER

was two yummy ceviche and guacamole tostadas followed by two tasty carne asada tacos washed down with first a refreshingly cold Anchor Steam and then a margi on the rocks. No pics. Too busy enjoying the company.

EXERCISE

was a 20 minute walk while at our friends' place, trying to get an overstimulated Izzy to take a nap. I haven't really had a proper workout since I started this thing three weeks ago, but I am generally feeling more energetic, which I think is attributable to the simple acts of reducing the number of alcoholic beverages and just eating less, if only by two or three bites than usual.

Now to decide what's lunching today...

shinae

Back In Black - Day 16 (Tuesday) & Something About Parenting & Moving Zippers...

Last weekend found me fairly occupied with my Picadillo Empanada Cookalong on G+ and the kinds of parenting issues that tend to take over the entire household for a while. The days following were a much needed decompression from all of it.

As the two older Monsters are getting too old to call Monsters anymore, I realize that those kinds of issues will be visiting our household more often, and I need to keep reminding myself that we often don't reap the rewards of the difficult life lessons we teach our children for years, sometimes decades, after they've caused us many episodes of heartburn.

Possibly the most challenging thing about parenting teenagers is remembering what it was like to be one - empathizing with what they're thinking and feeling, tempering that empathy with the knowledge that they need to be reigned in and refocused, all the while trying to relay your message in a way that will impact them positively, and then coming back to the realization that your mouth is moving, but they don't understand a word you're saying...

...and probably won't until they're 30...

...if you're lucky...

...but at least the zipper has moved up!

Day 8:

Day 16:

And since there are too many things on which I need to move forward, I'll not be moving backward to fill in the past 5 days. If you'd like to see what I've been eating during that time, I rarely miss a meal posting to my G+ albums. Still eating whatever I like, just less of it, and plating maybe 2 or 3 bites of food less than I was before I began this project, leaving the milk out of my coffee, having 2 or 3 drinks a week instead of 4 or 5...

BREAKFAST

I really couldn't be bothered to care about food yesterday morning, but I also hate feeling hungry, so I had two handfuls of almonds and raisins.

LUNCH

was an improvised Loco Moco with kimchi on the side.

DINNER

was Roast Lemon Herb Garlic Chicken with Heirloom Tomato Panzanella with a couple of glasses of our favorite cheapest of cheap whites.

EXERCISE

I think I've probably had about 2 hours total of some kind of physical activity over the past 5 days, mostly leisurely strolls through downtown Carlsbad and Encinitas, punctuated by occasional sets of 25 squats while rocking Izzy in her sling and a few sporadic sessions of flamenco manos y brazos, also while slinging Izzy outside for some fresh evening air.

I often find myself missing flamenco these days, which is kinda silly given that my zapatos are right there on the top shelf of my closet, pretty much waiting for me to put them on and stomp the shit out of some footwork whenever I want.

Not so easy with Izz in a sling, but possibly entertaining for her in a swing.

Last night's dishes call. Don't judge.  :P

shinae

You Can Be A Bad Mom And Still Cook With Your Kids...

My time spent in that place where underachievers overachievers go to die live made it glaringly obvious that I am not made of ubermom material. All around me were mothers who seemed determined to joyfully devote every last ounce of their energy to the molding of their children.

"Alton says you need to cover the bottom of the pan
with aromatics, MAWMMM..."
(He did a nice job cutting them carrots, didn't he?)

And whether it was

- participating in the PTA,

- hanging out in the classroom helping some of the most overprivileged teachers I've ever met grade papers, tutor kids, staple shit together, cut out shapes, and chaperone Valentine's Day parties, or

- spending the better part of their afternoons and evenings shuttling their kids from music lessons, to dance or martial arts lessons, to Kumon, and back home just in time to eat dinner, shower and go to bed,

they did it with a smile on their faces, a triple skim milk mochalattefrappucino in their hands, a pair of Juicy Couture sweatpants on their asses, and the steering wheel of a tricked out Suburban or minivan in their hands.

"...so you can use the pan juices for gravy, MAWMMMM..."

And while I was determined not to spend my afternoons doing the same after a full day at the office, I would be lying to say that seeing those moms in action didn't often make me look at myself and wonder if I wasn't failing my children because I only spent half an hour one year typing names into the PTA database, rarely ever showed up in their classrooms, and only enrolled them in one activity at a time, none of them designed to make Ivy League attendees of my kids.

"Don't forget my Balsamic vinaigrette, MAWMMMMM...
And not too much oil! You know I don't like too much
oil in my vinaigrette!!!"

But at some point, after years of questioning my worth as a mother, I realized that every halfway decent parent has something different to offer their children and that, despite some cries of martyrdom, people mostly do what's in their nature and ability to do. That is to say, those parents, unlike this parent, who seem to take joy in rolling around in the grass with their children, really do take joy in it. Those parents who like to sit with their kids and have a reading hour on a Saturday afternoon do it because they themselves love to read and want to impart that love of reading to their children. And those women who devote every waking moment of their lives to their children and take immense pride and credit in so doing do it because deep down, it satisfies them to define themselves by their achievements as mothers.

And so it was at that point that I decided my options were to:

- continue to beat myself up for not being for my children what other parents seemed to be for their children, and/or

- try to be something I'm not and make myself, hence my children, miserable in the process,

OR

- accentuate the positive, share with my kids those gifts and abilities that came easily and naturally to me, and allow other people in their lives with other abilities to impart those gifts to them.

He doesn't eat corn anymore. Weird kid.

And that's why I choose to take my kids to beaches or botanical gardens or on roadtrips while allowing their dad the <ahem> *pleasure* of spending a day at Disneyland with them. That's why I watch Chopped and Iron Chef with them while allowing their grandmother the fun of watching Spongebob DVDs with them (though I am not immune to the occasional outburst of *BRING IT AROOOOOOUUUUUND TOWN!!!*). That's why I try to limit their TV/videogame time to one hour a day and force them to learn how to use their creativity and amuse themselves rather than carpool them from activity to activity.

And finally, that is why I cook with my kids instead of rolling around in the grass or going for bike rides with them (that's the Man's job).

There's a lesson in good bad parenting to be found
somewhere on this plate...

I know some will call me a selfish mother, and that's ok. I'd rather be a selfish mother who teaches my children by example how to be aware and accepting of their strengths as well as their weaknesses than to be a selfless one keeping emotional score on them and waiting for the day they'll thank me for all those years I *sacrificed* to turn them into whatever they were already capable of becoming themselves if they really so desired.

shinae

P.S. I do realize that, in the spectrum of human experience, there must be ubermoms who aren't also insufferable martyrs. I'm just saying that if I were one of those ubermoms, I'd probably also be an insufferable one. :)

On Parenthood & Gratitude...

***WARNING: This post is NAF. (N.ot A.bout F.ood)*** 

(And by *NAF*, I usually mean *SHINAE'S PERSONAL SOAPBOX*...)

I read a post on HuffPo this morning by Meg Tilly. It was an inaugural post for what she was hoping to be a published mother-daughter dialogue between her and her 20-something daughter. Though the post was just this side of excessively wistful and fanciful for me, I could relate a bit, as most mothers can I'm sure, with having hopes for our children and our interaction with them. I was otherwise neutral about the post itself, but it was some of the response comments that got under my skin.

A lot of relating, a lot of empathizing, some congratulating, and then a comment from someone who thought that Tilly's very public call for her daughter's participation in the blog was, well, selfish. Which was then met with kneejerk defense of Tilly by parents who believe that "Having a child has to be one of the most selfless acts one will ever commit..." and that parents *earn* the "right to be selfish" by doing X, Y and Z for their children.

*SIGH*. Ribeye burgers and summer rolls...

The sacrifices I make for those 
ungrateful children of mine...

I don't belong in that camp. This is not to say that children will never have very legitimate reasons to be grateful for the things their parents do. We often do. But the attitude of these people reminds me too much of the people whose gifts always come with the heavy price of expectation. Not to mention what is, to me, the inanity of the idea that having children is utterly selfless.

In my mind, having children, wanting to see your DNA manifest in the form of a tiny human, wanting to leave a legacy, wanting family, companionship and ties that are often inextricable, is as much an endeavor in selfishness as it is in selflessness. It's true that, once the children are here, we are often confronted with situations in which we are compelled to exercise altruism for them... 

But then again, they didn't, couldn't, consent to being put on this Earth. And they probably wouldn't have consented if they knew it would mean a lifetime of emotional burden and expectation from someone who believes that the self-serving act of having your own biological offspring indentures them to a life of unconditional gratitude and recompense. 

When you consider that our children are their own people, just as different from us as they are similar, and that many parents "sacrifice" to give their children what is important to them, and not necessarily their children, then this idea of "earned" selfishness becomes even more ludicrous. And the delusion some people undertake that parenting has somehow stripped them of any selfish (sometimes deeply so) motivation, even, or especially, when it comes to their children, is evidenced by their attitudes of entitlement.

Not to mention that this kind of thinking disregards the very rich and rewarding contribution our children make to our lives, just by their very existence. (But you won't hear these parents talk about how much they owe their children for simply being.)

There are many things my parents did, for/by/to me, for which I'm grateful. And then there are a few for which I'm not and for which they believe I should be. And while I hope my children will find many good and true reasons to be grateful to me as they grow into adulthood and eventually parenthood, I believe that whether their gratitude as felt and expressed is true, deep and genuine, will largely depend on whether my gifts to them came from a place of true, deep and genuine gratitude for what they have given, and continue to give, to me.

shinae