Meatloaf goes over well in this house. Both kids like it. It works with pasta, broccoli, carrots, potatoes and a million other things that children will actually eat. One loaf lasts several days and is great on sandwiches.
So, here you go - my meatloaf recipe:
1 package (1.25 lbs) ground turkey
1 package (1.25 lbs) ground beef
1 package dry onion soup mix
1 cup bread crumbs (seasoned if you like)
3 eggs
2 cups chicken broth plus 1 cup for baking
ketchup
Root vegetables (optional)
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Combine the first six ingredients (turkey through 2 cups chicken broth)
The mixture will be very runny.
Pour the mixture into a oiled baking pan and shape it into a loaf.
Squeeze ketchup over the top -- as much or little as you like.
Pour 1 cup of chicken broth into the bottom of the baking pan.
Add root vegetables to the pan around the loaf. (if desired)
Bake for one hour or until cooked through.
If you find it is browning too much, cover loosely with foil.
Serve immediately with a glass of red wine.
(Or a glass of cranberry juice.)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Who's Confused?
I'm angry.
Pissed.
All my life I've had male friends. PLATONIC male friends. But now, I've been told, that these guys are, in fact, out to jump my bones. Furthermore, I am "confusing [my] children" by having single PLATONIC males as friends.
On the other hand, the father of my children insists he is "exemplifying the importance of the family unit" by having group sleepovers with his girlfriend and her son. Yes, the two adults sleep in the same bed. Yes there is, what my daughter calls, "kissy kissy" between them. And this is a good example for my children. Right? RIGHT?
Honestly - I don't think either is bad. I believe that it's important the kids see us friendly with all types of people. Young, old, rich, poor, black, white, abled, disabled, gay, straight, divorced, single, widowed, female or MALE. They should see that men and women can be friends OUTSIDE the bedroom (*kissy kissy*). My gosh, my son's best friend is a little girl. I hope they are friends forever.
I'm not in a "kissy kissy" relationship right now - at least not one that I care to share with my children. The guys we hang out with were there BEFORE the end of my marriage. LONG before. They were ALREADY enmeshed in the lives of my kids. NOT seeing them would be weird. For all of us.
It baffles me that people don't understand this.
It pisses me off.
But I said that already.
Pissed.
All my life I've had male friends. PLATONIC male friends. But now, I've been told, that these guys are, in fact, out to jump my bones. Furthermore, I am "confusing [my] children" by having single PLATONIC males as friends.
On the other hand, the father of my children insists he is "exemplifying the importance of the family unit" by having group sleepovers with his girlfriend and her son. Yes, the two adults sleep in the same bed. Yes there is, what my daughter calls, "kissy kissy" between them. And this is a good example for my children. Right? RIGHT?
Honestly - I don't think either is bad. I believe that it's important the kids see us friendly with all types of people. Young, old, rich, poor, black, white, abled, disabled, gay, straight, divorced, single, widowed, female or MALE. They should see that men and women can be friends OUTSIDE the bedroom (*kissy kissy*). My gosh, my son's best friend is a little girl. I hope they are friends forever.
I'm not in a "kissy kissy" relationship right now - at least not one that I care to share with my children. The guys we hang out with were there BEFORE the end of my marriage. LONG before. They were ALREADY enmeshed in the lives of my kids. NOT seeing them would be weird. For all of us.
It baffles me that people don't understand this.
It pisses me off.
But I said that already.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Spinach Casserole
Making dinner for the kids is always a challenge. There are only the three of us but finding something that we will ALL eat (and that's more or less healthy) is almost impossible.
Here's a dish that works for us:
Spinach Casserole
1 bag chopped frozen spinach
1 container cottage cheese (lo fat - NOT non-fat)
1 package grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
4 eggs
• Preheat oven to 400 degrees
• Combine cottage cheese, grated cheddar cheese and eggs in a large bowl and mix till combined
• Add the bag of frozen spinach and incorporate thoroughly.
• Pour it into a baking ban (the kind you make brownies in works best) that has been coated with olive oil.
• Cover with tinfoil. Remove tin foil about 15 minutes before done (to brown top)
• Bake for about an hour, or until the casserole is firm.
I serve this with meatloaf, but its perfectly fine all by itself as a light meal. It's even nice for breakfast/brunch.
At Passover I make this with a layer of matzo on the bottom - so it's a little like a pie. There are never any leftovers.
I know, I know, there is a lot of cheese and eggs which hardly makes this a lo-fat meal. However, there is also lots of protein, calcium and iron (from the spinach). Better than Kraft mac & cheese - right?
Monday, October 5, 2009
Racing From One Weekend to the Next
There are a gazillion ways to arrange custody when divorcing. For us, a 50/50 arrangement was a given so we started from there. Because we have a little-one (Maia) we decided that a full week without seeing one or the other of us would be hard for her so that figured largely into the equation. In the end we came up with the following schedule: I have the kids every Monday and Tuesday. They are with their dad every Wednesday and Thursday. We switch off every other Friday and Saturday, and switch again every other Sunday.
So far the arrangement has worked for us (with minor tweaks and adjustments here and there to accommodate their dad's teaching schedule).
But it takes a lot of adjusting.
As it works out, every other week I drop the children off at school on Wednesday morning and don't see them again until 4 pm on Sunday. Five days.
When the 5 o'clock hour comes on Wednesday, the first day without them, I'm at a loss. I suddenly don't have to jump in my car and "play pickup kids." He's doing it. I can't pin down how this feels but the closest thing to describe it is anxiety. A pulsing in my veins, wringing of my hands, twiddling of my thumbs... What to do?
On Thursday evening it gets easier. By Friday, at 5, I'm lonely. Saturday rolls around and my objective is to get the house ready for them - laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping - so that on Sunday I can sit in my favorite chair and enjoy the New York Times with cup of coffee while KFOG plays the Acoustic Morning program on the radio. By the time they arrive at 4, I'm relaxed and excited to see them.
Until they arrive.
And I'm suddenly shocked into the reality of motherhood. Almost immediate whining, and requests for food, or gum or juice; quarrels between the two of them; very loud voices; screaming, crying, tantrums, defiance, anger, exhaustion. Wow. Mommying is hard work. Especially when you do it alone.
Monday morning, getting up in time to get to school by 8. I rise at 6 - try to get a half hour of time alone with my coffee before waking them at 6:30 to start getting ready for school. This morning hour is perhaps the most challenging of the day. Never mind me - I need to get two children dressed, washed up and fed in addition to making boxed lunches and tending to Moses the Dog. We leave the house at 7:50 and drive across town to Joe's school where we drop him off and then take off back across town (tracing where we've just been and passing our house) to Maia's preschool. Once there the ritual is that we spend about 10 minutes playing or reading together and then she "pushes me out the door" and I'm off on my own. An immediate sense of relief and freedom.
It seems to be one or the other - extreme stress or loneliness - I've not yet found a common ground. A place where one or the other is satisfying and fulfilling. Instead, one just seems like a race to get to the other. I'm constantly running and never winning.
When does this end?
So far the arrangement has worked for us (with minor tweaks and adjustments here and there to accommodate their dad's teaching schedule).
But it takes a lot of adjusting.
As it works out, every other week I drop the children off at school on Wednesday morning and don't see them again until 4 pm on Sunday. Five days.
When the 5 o'clock hour comes on Wednesday, the first day without them, I'm at a loss. I suddenly don't have to jump in my car and "play pickup kids." He's doing it. I can't pin down how this feels but the closest thing to describe it is anxiety. A pulsing in my veins, wringing of my hands, twiddling of my thumbs... What to do?
On Thursday evening it gets easier. By Friday, at 5, I'm lonely. Saturday rolls around and my objective is to get the house ready for them - laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping - so that on Sunday I can sit in my favorite chair and enjoy the New York Times with cup of coffee while KFOG plays the Acoustic Morning program on the radio. By the time they arrive at 4, I'm relaxed and excited to see them.
Until they arrive.
And I'm suddenly shocked into the reality of motherhood. Almost immediate whining, and requests for food, or gum or juice; quarrels between the two of them; very loud voices; screaming, crying, tantrums, defiance, anger, exhaustion. Wow. Mommying is hard work. Especially when you do it alone.
Monday morning, getting up in time to get to school by 8. I rise at 6 - try to get a half hour of time alone with my coffee before waking them at 6:30 to start getting ready for school. This morning hour is perhaps the most challenging of the day. Never mind me - I need to get two children dressed, washed up and fed in addition to making boxed lunches and tending to Moses the Dog. We leave the house at 7:50 and drive across town to Joe's school where we drop him off and then take off back across town (tracing where we've just been and passing our house) to Maia's preschool. Once there the ritual is that we spend about 10 minutes playing or reading together and then she "pushes me out the door" and I'm off on my own. An immediate sense of relief and freedom.
It seems to be one or the other - extreme stress or loneliness - I've not yet found a common ground. A place where one or the other is satisfying and fulfilling. Instead, one just seems like a race to get to the other. I'm constantly running and never winning.
When does this end?
Monday, September 7, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Taking Back the Park
There is a park near my house that was a community project. For various reasons (subject of a future blog post) the City of Berkeley "gave" our neighborhood a plot of land to do with as we pleased. After many meetings and lots of work we created a wonderful sanctuary with a big grassy area surrounded by native fruit trees, plants and flowers. There is a tire swing and sandbox and a "mountain" to climb for the children. My kids and I go there a lot.
Last week Maia and I decided to take a walk to the "little park" (as Maia calls it) with Moses (the dog) and some toys for the sandbox. As we approached I saw three adults on the swing - drinking from paper bags and groping each other lewdly. Maia asked me, "Mama, what are they doing?" Fuming, shooting cold stares at the people, I told her that I didn't know. We spent a moment sitting on a bench across the lawn until Maia said she wanted to use the swing.
So we walked across the grass and I began to take back the park:
"Excuse me," I said, "my daughter would like to use the swing."
"Oh! sure, of course. Go ahead!" they said.
And they moved aside and Maia got up on the swing and I began to push her. The three adults (two men and a woman) moved a few yards away - near the sandbox - and lit up some cigarettes.
"I'm sorry," I said, "there is no smoking in the park" while pointing out the "no smoking" signs hung every 10 feet along the perimeter of the park. "There are ash trays just outside both gates if you want to smoke," said I.
"What are you trying to say?" said the woman.
"I'm just pointing out the signs." I said.
"You must be new to this neighborhood, right?" aggressive, accusations.
Me, "No, I've lived here for about 10 years now."
"WELL - I've been here for 48 years!"
"Wow, 48 years? You look awesome" I said.
She didn't know what to make of it. She cocked her head, like a dog. Her boyfriend, said, "Hey you guys, lets get out of here. We gotta go someplace anyway."
So they gathered up their stuff - including a bouquet of flowers. "Those are pretty," I said. "Yea - I know how to pick 'em." said the guy. "I guess so." My eyes glaring.
And they left.
I wonder if I'd have been so bold if I didn't have Moses with me - he looks scary. Big, dark and wolf-like. Or the protection of Maia - using a child as a shield - figuring that any decent person wouldn't hurt a mother in front of her kid.
I could have been wrong. It might have been bad.
As it is, I feel like I won.
Since then I've made the walk to the park an evening ritual. We use it the way it was intended. I'm going to start inviting the neighborhood families to join us. This park is important to me. I intend to keep it.
[Also posted on InBerkeley.]
Last week Maia and I decided to take a walk to the "little park" (as Maia calls it) with Moses (the dog) and some toys for the sandbox. As we approached I saw three adults on the swing - drinking from paper bags and groping each other lewdly. Maia asked me, "Mama, what are they doing?" Fuming, shooting cold stares at the people, I told her that I didn't know. We spent a moment sitting on a bench across the lawn until Maia said she wanted to use the swing.
So we walked across the grass and I began to take back the park:
"Excuse me," I said, "my daughter would like to use the swing."
"Oh! sure, of course. Go ahead!" they said.
And they moved aside and Maia got up on the swing and I began to push her. The three adults (two men and a woman) moved a few yards away - near the sandbox - and lit up some cigarettes.
"I'm sorry," I said, "there is no smoking in the park" while pointing out the "no smoking" signs hung every 10 feet along the perimeter of the park. "There are ash trays just outside both gates if you want to smoke," said I.
"What are you trying to say?" said the woman.
"I'm just pointing out the signs." I said.
"You must be new to this neighborhood, right?" aggressive, accusations.
Me, "No, I've lived here for about 10 years now."
"WELL - I've been here for 48 years!"
"Wow, 48 years? You look awesome" I said.
She didn't know what to make of it. She cocked her head, like a dog. Her boyfriend, said, "Hey you guys, lets get out of here. We gotta go someplace anyway."
So they gathered up their stuff - including a bouquet of flowers. "Those are pretty," I said. "Yea - I know how to pick 'em." said the guy. "I guess so." My eyes glaring.
And they left.
I wonder if I'd have been so bold if I didn't have Moses with me - he looks scary. Big, dark and wolf-like. Or the protection of Maia - using a child as a shield - figuring that any decent person wouldn't hurt a mother in front of her kid.
I could have been wrong. It might have been bad.
As it is, I feel like I won.
Since then I've made the walk to the park an evening ritual. We use it the way it was intended. I'm going to start inviting the neighborhood families to join us. This park is important to me. I intend to keep it.
[Also posted on InBerkeley.]
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wordle Experiment
I'm working on a magazine project for a client and they requested a "wordle" for the front cover. After exploring the wordle site a bit I thought it would be fun to make a wordle from this blog. Here it is:
I find it interesting that the largest (ie most used words) are home, house, family and two. (Two? Maybe I speak about my two kids a lot? Kids is pretty big too.)
How much will my wordle change when I make one from this blog in 3 months? Six months? A year from now? The wordle reflects my life, or at least the life that I record here. It's content, shape and emphasis will morph as I move forward. An experiment: create a wordle from your blog or twitter stream every three months. See where it leads, and what it says - both literally and figuratively - about you.
I'm game. How about you?
I find it interesting that the largest (ie most used words) are home, house, family and two. (Two? Maybe I speak about my two kids a lot? Kids is pretty big too.)
How much will my wordle change when I make one from this blog in 3 months? Six months? A year from now? The wordle reflects my life, or at least the life that I record here. It's content, shape and emphasis will morph as I move forward. An experiment: create a wordle from your blog or twitter stream every three months. See where it leads, and what it says - both literally and figuratively - about you.
I'm game. How about you?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)