Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Noni's Ravioli

When Rick and I started dating, he had a wild boar leg that he had hunted, cured it for prosciutto, and stored it in his cupboard to shave off bit by bit for snacking. He had a fresh rotisserie chicken ready to eat after a night of drinking. His fridge had the predictable contents of lettuce and veggies to make a salad, rib eye steak, and a whole roaster chicken, some A1 sauce, ketchup, and a few Coors Lights. Basic. Simple. When I came into the picture, things got a lot more complicated in the kitchen. The fridge has more condiments and leftovers than is necessary. Every cupboard is filled with gidgets and gadgets. But one thing that has remained the same is the yearly tradition of making Noni's Ravioli from scratch. The process has changed since the first time I was allowed to participate in making the coveted secret recipe. The first time, I was only allowed to help assemble the ravioli after the filling had been made. The second year, I was able to help procure the ingredients, but not allowed to look at the recipe. The third year, I was able to see the recipe and help make the filling. The fourth year, I was able to make the filling, while he made the dough. And since then we've found our place in the tradition of ravioli making. I make the filling, Rick makes the dough and rolls the dough. Rick fills the dough, and I cut the squares and pack them into boxes. It takes most of the day, and it's actually hard work. Harder work when you factor in babies and naptime, playtime and snacks. The paper the recipe is written on has yellowed and frayed. The writing is starting to fade. I'll eventually have to rewrite it, before it's lost forever. This year, Sophia showed some interest in the process. It was one of those moments where I realized that this is a tradition I hope she and Ava carries on. I know her Noni would be proud of that, and I'd like to believe her great-Nonis would be pretty proud too.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,
I've been a good girl. I really have. So I am begging you to work a little miracle here and let those two front teeth break through for Ava. If she could speak words, I know she'd ask for them too. I think we all have that on our list to you, that all Ava wants for Christmas is her 2 front teeth. Can't be too hard to remember for you, right? I mean, it's a popular song this time of year. I hope you read this and it's sticking in your head like the Lexas commercial song is stuck in mine. Sophia actually put on her list that she wants you to bring Ava a sweater. I'm not sure where she came up with that, so it might be a little misleading to you. She needs those teeth to break through!

Wait, so would that be Ava's present or mine? Because if it's not too much bother, I really want a Tuff Shed. I asked my husband for one and apparently that was the worst offense to a contractor. He can't understand why I'd want to PAY for someone to come in and build something in 1 day, paint it, and then leave. Finished. Done. In 1 day! He knows he can build one bigger and better. It may take all of his little free time, it might not have a roof until 2013 or get painted until 2014, but it will be so much better. Oh, and it will have room to put his stuff, too. I'm not sure he understands that I just want a little shed to hold only my stuff. We share the garage now, and somehow my stuff always ends up in the rafters, with no ladder in sight. So if one of your elves could just drop off the Tuff Shed in the place my husband has taken 2 days to clear out the space for his, I mean "my" future shed to go in that would be awesome.

I know you've gotten Sophia's letter by now. I bet you got a little chuckle that she had a dinosaur, baseball and football on her list. And we can't forget Ava's sweater, haha. One of your elves mentioned that she'd be getting that dinosaur. Cool. Does this mean she'll be hunting with Daddy when she gets older? Because I'm seeing a trend here and I just want to be prepared for next year when she's asking for a mini clay pigeon set or something. What happened to Barbie and Baby Feels So Real? Her Daddy calls her a chip off the old block. I guess I'm just a little jealous that she'd rather work with Daddy than want to change Ava's diaper and be Mommy's Little Helper.

Oh and Rick was super easy. Like he is every year. Work boots. Really? I bet you have that wrapped up and ready to go before anyone else on the list. Does he really want work boots or is this a metaphor to something? I just can't imagine that there isn't some hidden message there somewhere and I'm not getting it.

Santa, I know you are working hard right now so I'll keep this short. Remember...All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. All the other stuff, that can wait.

Love,
Cara

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Life lesson: don't go into Hallmark if you're already weepy



I was having an off day. There were too many not-so-right things happening, adding up to a perfect storm of emotions and fragility. I should know better to hunker down and let it pass. But then again, this new emotional me is still so, well, new. Rick was home for an unexpected afternoon, so I jumped at the opportunity to run quick errands without the girls. (Two girls in car seats does not a quick trip make.) I needed to keep it local for the quickness part, so off to the local mall I went. Let me just tell you I'm highly disappointed in our town these days. I've been highly disappointed in our fellow citizens who make very bad choices in their life that significantly impacts how safe I feel for my family. I just feel like people are doing desperate things during desperate times. I will step of my soap box about it, because this is not the place to rant about local crime. Our local mall is not the best place to go on a good day, and this wasn't a particularly good day for me. But again, quick and efficient was my plan for errands. I had a few ideas I wanted to entertain in Hallmark. Focused on the prize, I simply had tunnel vision. But then the prize was not to be found and I had to browse for other options. This is the life lesson part. I started reading inspirational placards and looking at those Willow Tree angels and my mind traveled quickly to not so pleasant places. Now here was the true test: fight or flight? I could have walked right out of there and booked it straight home to do what I should have done in the first place--hunker down. But then I was already here and I needed to get those things checked of the Christmas list. So I made myself a compromise; keep it together until I found my purchases and then go home without another errand to run. And that's what I did. The drive home gave me plenty of time to pull it back together and get on with the mommy duties. But you better believe I will not walk into Hallmark again if I have the slightest bit of emotions running through my blood. I'm still trying to put my finger on what set things spiraling into an emotional free fall in the first place. It's almost like a window opens up in my brain and releases such intense pain and sorrow, and then with all my effort and will I inch that window closed and go on with the day. I wonder if that's how one would feel all the time--that intensity of emotions--if one actually used their whole potential of brain? I'll stop now, so as not to get too philosophical and Pink Floyd on everyone.

I do know that something in my subconscious conjured up thoughts of Julia. I have this milestone coming up of when Ava came home from the hospital and I was able to start tagging happy memories to certain things again. It's been almost over a year of haunted memories and I'm looking forward to the happy ones diluting the sad ones a bit. I find that as Ava gets older, the conversation is shifting to a more comfortable level of small talk with other parents at the park or just public places that put strangers in the path of conversation. "Is she starting to walk?" replaces "Where did you give birth?" and all those other newborn baby questions that are seemingly innocent unless you are faced with someone dealing with loss and the struggle of a premature baby in the NICU. Where I would silently place Julia in parenthesis when talking about my pregnancy and only talking about Ava while feeling disingenuous for not mentioning Julia, or saying "she" when my mind screamed "THEY." Now questions about Ava's place as a little sister or teething or crawling, all that fun stuff is in the forefront of idle chat. I never really had a staged answer in those days of newborn-ness, and I'm sort of relieved that the frequency of that awkward conversation has passed. But I'm now reminded that as those topics become more infrequent, the feeling of loss doesn't along with it. And as I used to brace for those inevitable questions, now when one comes out of the blue I feel sucker punched.


That night after the mall experience, when the girls were tucked in to sleep, all I wanted to do was zone out to some light TV. Rick asked if I was coming to bed soon and I told him I just needed to decompress a bit. He sat down next to me and asked if I wanted to talk about it. This was a huge step for him. In the past, we've tiptoed through these moments and then I'd give him my full wrath of anger that he avoided me during the time I needed him. I should have told him how I was feeling but instead I just told him I didn't want to talk about it. He did exactly what I wanted him to do and I did the exact opposite of what I should have done in response. I guess it goes to show that there is no right answer, only the in-this-moment type of reaction. And you know what's amazing about Rick, what is exactly what I needed at that moment? He went to bed, and he never held it against me. I would have confronted him with it, would have thrown it back in his face that we had talked about this before. So as much as I chide him about those "man" things I have to put up with, I really do appreciate that he is just that sometimes. Another life lesson to wrap up my Hallmark day.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Crafts bust

The ants got to the gingerbread house (which totally looks like a train, Kathy! I get it. Or a mobile home. Ha!) Sophia was super bummed she wasn't going to get to eat the whole thing. I didn't break it to her that she never actually would get to eat it, so I guess she probably took it better that the ants got some instead, and I got to avoid the inevitable meltdown if it went straight from display to the trash. The ants are her friends, you know. I'm usually all about telling children how it really is. I don't go into detail, but I don't usually lie. I keep it simple, to the point. Questions like, "Mommy, where is your daddy?" Are answered very simple: "My daddy died." And if she wants to know more, I give more simple answers. She's actually told me that my brother is now my daddy, since I need a daddy. Um, no thanks. Ah, this is a fun age. Anyway, back to the ants. We've been trying to keep the ants out, but at the tiniest hint of precipitation, those suckers come marching right in and making themselves at home. Quite cozy they are, with a baby that eats off the floor and a preschooler that leaves crumb trails wherever she goes. So at first we told Sophia the truth about what we were doing with the ants. She wailed, "Those are my friends! Don't kill my friends!" Well, now we say we are feeding them, so they won't try to take our food. Not really a lie, because they are eating the "food" but it keeps her from knowing the end result. I should have known they would seek out the candy display no matter where I put it. But again, could have been worse. Could have had a resentful child adding one more thing to her list of things to hold against me. I'm still getting glared at for throwing away her Halloween candy.

Now about the bird feeder. I'm sure it would work great if it were in a different place. Mainly, away from the house. I know the birds are eating it, so it's not a total bust. We just can't enjoy them eating it because they fly away as soon as we creep towards the window. Can't hang it in the tree, too many squirrels.

Stay tuned for the reindeer food. I'm sure there will be a story about that one too.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Deck the halls


You know how when you have this perfect scene in your head about how you want your day to go and then it goes just not the way you plan? That's pretty much what I face every time I try to capture a moment. I'm not spontaneous, go with the flow, roll with the punches. I need to know what is going on when and plan accordingly. I need to set expectations and have them met or I get a little twitchy. I'm not proud of this, although it made a mean project and product manager in my past life. With children, this does not fly. I think Rick began easing me into the reality of the here and now way before children. We are both the sign of the Leo, have our birthdays one day after the other, but are complete polar opposites when dealing with a planned event. I must show up on time, he must eventually show up. I must know where, what, why and when, and he is happy to get in the car and start driving. I'd like to say we've both adapted slightly to each other's personality, but that's not really the case. It's more like we've mostly accepted that it's the way it is. But when my camera comes out, the opposing forces rear their ugly head. If my camera comes out during a special occasion, watch out. He'd like to live in the moment and I'd like to capture the moment. Oh I see how silly it sounds writing this out; I sound a little nuts. So Friday we had decided would be a good day to pick out the tree and decorate. Last year I was preoccupied with Ava in the NICU, and while we did everything the same, my heart wasn't fully in it. This year, I wanted to make it big. Big mistake right there. Expectations set super high. Wouldn't you know that on the day we set to pick our tree would be mid 70 degrees, and my long sleeved shirts designed for the girls to wear would be almost sweltering? But they wore them anyway. The visit to the lot was so short actually, that I think we beat last year's record. The very first tree we saw happened to be perfect. Deal done, Rick wanted to book it home. I wanted to capture the moment.

While he ran off with the tree tag to pay, I attempted to take some pictures of the girls at the lot, in blinding sunlight, not the perfect setting for taking pictures. I found some shade, but still not ideal.

When we got home, we realized the tree was way too tall for the space assigned, so off went about 1 foot of beautiful tree, which made the rest look a little trim and lean. But roll with it I did. And then came time for decorations. Wouldn't you know I am highly allergic to our tree this year? Sneezing, wheezing kind of allergic reaction during decorating. The allergens must have traveled to the vents, because I have an attack now every time the heater comes on. After the hot spell, it became quite cold. The heater is on most of the day now. My nose is chapped. So while decorating the tree, I have made it tradition to drink hot chocolate. I really wanted a picture of Sophia drinking the hot chocolate after the tree was trimmed. I told Sophia we could try to make a white chocolate peppermint and she was so excited. I handed her the mug and told her to sit next to the tree. I ran out of the room to get my camera and during the few seconds I was out, she had put the cup down to get better purchase of her makeshift seat. Wouldn't you know it upset the cup of hot chocolate, ensuing a full blown temper tantrum.

Of course I made her a new cup because I had only made enough for one round. If I were better at making lemons into lemonade, or turning half empty glasses into half full during all of those little things that go wrong, I would probably have less gray hair and lower blood pressure. But the amazing thing that happens after a few days go by? I laugh at those things. And then years later? I look back at the one picture that actually captured the moment I wanted it to be, and I get all warm and happy. I even look at the bad pictures and they don't look all that bad--cute really. So maybe it's not immediate gratification, but I know I will have those memories forever. Even though it may be shaving years off my life in the process.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Sophia says...

dry cold air really does wonders to Sophia's hair while jumping on the trampoline

At dinner tonight I make the comment I always make. "Sophia, don't just eat your bread." She replies, "I'm not. I'm trying to eat the butter."

We were going to a dinner that Santa was attending the other night. Sophia tells me I need to get ready. "Mommy, you need to go get ready so you can look beautiful." I was in my sweats, glasses, hair up in pony tail, the usual for a Saturday. I ask her if she thinks I'm beautiful the way I am. She replies, "No. You need to go get pretty right now."