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.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
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?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A New House to Call Home
Six months ago I posted a video to my YouTube account called Apartment Hunting Persistence. I watch it now and see that I didn't seem terribly excited. Of course, part of it was moving out of my newly renovated home into a space that reminded me of my grad school days.
Yea. I said it.
The "duplex" apartment I've been living in has been uncomfortable to say the least. My office is in my bedroom. The common area is small-when we're home together we trip over each other constantly. Forget entertaining; don't even think about it. Furthermore, the view out the front window is a hideous old garage, falling apart, slouching sideways. The other window looks out over my driveway which might be ok if I drove a Maserati or a Jaguar; but I've got a filthy Subaru. The mommy mobile someone (a date) once said.
I'd only signed a 6-month lease and was looking forward to finding a new home in August. Which meant a July full of (more) apartment hunting persistence. I must have looked at a dozen places. I scoured CraigsList.com and broadened my scope - considered cities to the north and south of me. Anything to find a place that would accommodate two kids, a large dog, a work-at-home mom (that's me!) AND fit into my budget. When I did finally find something that I thought would work - a house in West Berkeley - I was declined because they didn't think I'd be able to maintain the rent. Moving forward I sought the help of my folks who agreed to co-sign a rental agreement.
When the next house came my way I was armed with copies of a standard rental application (all filled out), my credit report, proof of earnings and the all important co-sign agreement from my parents.
The landlady was impressed with my organization. I sat and talked with her for an hour. Explored the house ...
The House Despite being open to geographic change, the house I found is one block from my old place. It's a single family home that you climb a flight of stairs to get into. There are two bedrooms and one bathroom, a good size kitchen and large front window looking out over a charming cottage and the Berkeley Hills. Downstairs there is a single car garage, laundry room, storage areas and a finished office with two windows looking at the backyard. (YES! A large backyard with pear and cherry trees...) It's this extra office that makes it a good move. That, and the fact that the house is bright and sunny with lots of .... character. Retro charm, we could say.
Huh?
It's stuck in 1959. Think wood and "stone" paneled walls, mirror-tiled fireplace with gold marbling, and lots of other amazing quirks that make it so unique and lovable. I'm already cruising CraigsList.com for "mid-century modern" furniture finds. Just to keep the tone going ... :-)
So on Thursday I sign the lease, get the keys and set about moving my life into, what I hope to be, a long-term home. I feel really good about it and I can't wait to take the next step FORWARD in this absurd journey that I'm learning to embrace.
Yea. I said it.
The "duplex" apartment I've been living in has been uncomfortable to say the least. My office is in my bedroom. The common area is small-when we're home together we trip over each other constantly. Forget entertaining; don't even think about it. Furthermore, the view out the front window is a hideous old garage, falling apart, slouching sideways. The other window looks out over my driveway which might be ok if I drove a Maserati or a Jaguar; but I've got a filthy Subaru. The mommy mobile someone (a date) once said.
I'd only signed a 6-month lease and was looking forward to finding a new home in August. Which meant a July full of (more) apartment hunting persistence. I must have looked at a dozen places. I scoured CraigsList.com and broadened my scope - considered cities to the north and south of me. Anything to find a place that would accommodate two kids, a large dog, a work-at-home mom (that's me!) AND fit into my budget. When I did finally find something that I thought would work - a house in West Berkeley - I was declined because they didn't think I'd be able to maintain the rent. Moving forward I sought the help of my folks who agreed to co-sign a rental agreement.
When the next house came my way I was armed with copies of a standard rental application (all filled out), my credit report, proof of earnings and the all important co-sign agreement from my parents.
The landlady was impressed with my organization. I sat and talked with her for an hour. Explored the house ...
The House Despite being open to geographic change, the house I found is one block from my old place. It's a single family home that you climb a flight of stairs to get into. There are two bedrooms and one bathroom, a good size kitchen and large front window looking out over a charming cottage and the Berkeley Hills. Downstairs there is a single car garage, laundry room, storage areas and a finished office with two windows looking at the backyard. (YES! A large backyard with pear and cherry trees...) It's this extra office that makes it a good move. That, and the fact that the house is bright and sunny with lots of .... character. Retro charm, we could say. Huh?
It's stuck in 1959. Think wood and "stone" paneled walls, mirror-tiled fireplace with gold marbling, and lots of other amazing quirks that make it so unique and lovable. I'm already cruising CraigsList.com for "mid-century modern" furniture finds. Just to keep the tone going ... :-)
So on Thursday I sign the lease, get the keys and set about moving my life into, what I hope to be, a long-term home. I feel really good about it and I can't wait to take the next step FORWARD in this absurd journey that I'm learning to embrace.
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