Mama Drama

Jayden walked over and slapped Ariana across the face. Camden lost control and crashed into Blakely. Hunter and Jackson were fighting for the ring before Cooper finally broke in and snatched it for himself! Brody looked on from a safe distance by the fence. What am I watching? Is it the newest daytime/nighttime soap on TV, Hulu or Netflex? Not even close. This drama takes place on the playground. At a park near you, little children are being raised as a collective brood; the next 90210-ers. The drama is high and the names are androgynous. Since when can I NOT tell the difference between a boy and a girl? The answer is now, now that Im awash in the throws of the toddler years. Unless these kids wear purple flowers or skull and crossbones, I'm just not sure anymore.



Am I the only one that finds these names unfamiliar and strange? I repeat the name the Mommy says but it falls flat on my tongue. (Do all these moms speak French too?) Usually its the girls with the short, whispy hair, too short for a pigtail that I do a double take. I swear there were no names like Brayden and Brysen when I was a kid. Do these parents have contest to see how many vowels and 'y's they can cram in a name? KayLee? Kaylee? Kaylei? So far Ive only mistaken a little girl for a boy once, to my credit the onesie was gray.

And why am I the only f*ing Mom climbing the jungle gym(is it even called that??) ladder or wall with the tiny hand holds after my son to make sure he doesnt fall. Hey, Im no 'copter Mom- I stay a distance away and let him do it himself. He's just a bit... unsteady still. But, The Other Mommies glance up from afar, over their Gucci sunglasses (fake, right?) on the bench, pulled away for the moment from their Smartphones. How can they even wear their Victoria Secret sweatsuit to the park? Aren't their afraid the rhinestones will fall off, I wonder?

I'm not beating it, I love my mommy life, just observations through the eyes of this 40-something Mommy. I sometimes feel like IM on another planet. Exploring new life forms. Some are (passive) aggressive, some are (mostly) harmless.

Hoping none of my new Meet-up Mommy friends read this, until they get to know me a little better. Oh, and hubby better get me a gift certificate to Victoria Secret for Mother's Day this year, Im gonna need it!

Infertility Aint for the Faint of Heart

Recently, RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association's Facebook page asked the question "What do you want people to know about infertility?". I dont usually comment on the questions, but this day I did, and what I wrote has been echoing in my mind for days now. Infertility is my personal burden to carry, some days it is heavy, some days it is light. Years of testing, trying, and finally, rounds of IVF. I wrote something like "No matter how happy you are in life you will never forget". The knowledge that you are can not conceive a child in your body will stay with you. No matter how you choose to build your family, that fact does not go away. I tamp down the pain, filling the space with happy experiences and making memories with my family. Some days I don't think about it at all, other days it overwhelms you out of nowhere. Its a tug-of-war of the mind only now. I could be shopping at Target with my 2 year old adopted son who I love fiercely, but a mother walks by with 2 maybe 3 kids in tow -who all have a family resemblance- and BAM! I feel like shit. But not for long.... All I need is to just look down at my amazing son with his bright eyes and handsome face. He looks up and yells "Mama Mama!"... and the war is over.

Is he full yet?? And is this kid a comedian trapped in a toddler's body?

Its a good thing I just got CPR certified because G-d forbid, really, how much food can my kid shove in his mouth without choking?? I am continually amazed at the amount of food my child eat. I keep telling my mother-in-law that he's having a growth spurt but for real, I wonder if he is gonna blow up 'The Hulk' style when I dont get him his milk fast enough. Miiiilk!!! Two Motts applesauce cups for breakfast plus oatmeal? A giant potato pancake **with applesauce on top** (thanks Grandma Ellen!) and I mean GIANT. I measured one of those suckers at 4 inches across! 8 grapes (cut in eighths thank you very much)for snack time. He kept reaching in the cup with a look of pure delight... I think he would have rubbed those grapes all over his body if I left him alone. An entire hot dog, noodles and peas for dinner. noodle, hot dog, noodle, hot dog, noodle. So he alternated til there were just some peas left-then ate them too! And he has this thing now, where when he is enjoying something he's eating or making joking (like shoving his finger in your belly button) he closes his eyes and grins widely and goes 'Aaaaarrr" or 'beeeeeeep' depending on if you are mommy or daddy respectively.

Kugel Memories... Kugel-mania Part 1

Yesterday was the first ever Kugel Contest judging competition at the JA. Readers were asked to send in their favorite kugel recipes (kugel is a Jewish term for a noodle or potato casserole side dish. Usually noodle ones are sweet and potato is savory)

Somehow I got wrangled in to making 2 kugels. Fortunately, I got to pick, so I took the one potato and a squash one. Id never heard of a squash kugel and was curious to try it. As for the potato kugel recipe--this was definitely your Bubbe's kugel but without the schmaltz. I grated the potatoes and onion in my Cuisinart food processor (sorry Grandma no hand grater here!) I looked again at the potato kugel recipe and careful re-read the personal comments below the recipe. It was his mother's recipe from the '40s. He explained how he remembered his parents used to grate the potatoes and onion with a hand-crank meatgrinder. The mix was then put in a bowl of water to keep them from turning brown, then drained. As I read this, I could see a young boy kneeling on a chair gathered around his mom at the kitchen table as she cranked the bulky metal beast and he held a big bowl tightly as the shreads of potato magically appeared through small holes at the bottom.



Memories of my own childhood cooking with my mom for the holidays quickly replaced that of the young boy. I stood right here in this very kitchen 30 years ago kneeling on a chair helping my mom and wearing our fashionable aprons. (I always choose the frilly pink one.)

It struck me that even though this wasn't my mother's recipe, it didn't need to be to relive the experiences I had with my mom when I was growing up. That list of ingredients not only stirred up memories, but also smells and sounds; the whirr of the blender, the fine grit of flour on my cheek and the smooth bowl under my fingers. The directions reminded me of how much I loved the camaraderie of working beside my mother. I couldn't wait to serve our creation and to hear the "oohs" and "aahs" from family members.

As I finished reading his emailed recipe, at some point, he wrote, he and his mother switched from chicken fat to healthier oil. Somehow, I cant help wondering if maybe they should have left it in, if only for the memories.