On Children

"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.

And he said: 

'Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies not but their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but see not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.'"

(from The Prophet, by Kahilil Gibran)

She's asleep. I'm awake.

I was rocking her to sleep last night, quietly singing Sea of Love and Moon River over and over into her left ear. With just enough light seeping through the crack of the door, I caught a glimpse of our blurred silhouette in the mirror and something hit me. It hit me so hard that my chest contracted and tears started to form.

I'm still trying to figure out how to express what it was, but I think it's partly that recognition of holy-crap-I'm-a-MOM, mixed with the more gradual realization that I am a part of this world. A world I'd chosen to reject and withdraw from for five years because I thought life was without worth or meaning. That there wasn't even a point to waking up and getting out of bed for it. I should probably explain.

As for the first part, I have to say: When I became pregnant with Addie, I was secretly REALLY worried that I wasn't maternal enough to have a child. I had held an infant once or twice in my life before her (besides my little sister, but only photos prove that), and I had changed diapers, hmmm, probably never. I never shrieked in delight when there was a child in my vicinity, and I was usually the one rolling my eyes and giving the stink-eye to the fussy baby in the restaurant (karma is such a bitch). In fact, it was a running joke in my family that I hated babies and loved feasting on them in various manners and methods.

Preparation for twenty years in the future.

So I waited for that "mom gene" to kick in, bestowing me with infinite patience, jeans that made my ass flat (the horror!), and a full compendium of nursery rhymes. But those things didn't happen, or they haven't so far. I'm still me, the Ariel that existed before her. Still selfish sometimes, still impatient, still utterly confused as to what age any given child is. Still blasting Blackalicious in the car, reading gossip websites, hoping to get hit on once in a blue moon. Forgetting to pack diapers or sunscreen every time she leaves the house because she has yet to purchase a proper diaper bag which would remind her to fill all those little compartments with stuff. Still feeling like a child herself. The infantile leading the infant.

Luckily after almost nine months, I now realize that I can still be that girl while raising a decent human being. What can I say, I'm a slow learner.

I swear I'm not just the nanny.

The second part? Things have changed a lot since I felt that way. I won't go into details, but I will say that freedom from depression and addiction has changed my life more than I could ever properly describe (even more than having a child). I feel PRESENT in my life today. No longer living in the past or fearing the future. Letting go of resentments, self-hatred, and regrets. Finally able to recognize and enjoy the beauty in the world that didn't seem to exist before I got sober.

Having moments like last night are just further proof of the miracles I get to experience now that I'm finally awake to them.

Gerbera Infantallis Grandiflorum

Chicken soup for the Sickly and Postpartum

My whole week has felt topsy turvy since all three of us have been sick. Zach got the worst of it, some godawful flu that's kept him from work three days in the row. His fever finally broke last night and he's no longer hacking up bits of lung matter, but still, poor guy. That's why I made an abbreviated version of our favorite chicken orzo soup yesterday. We originally made it with turkey around Thanksgiving time, but it's so tasty that we make it more often with chicken.

Simple roast chicken: Coat inside/out with olive oil. Salt and pepper inside/out.

Stuff with fresh herbs, garlic cloves, cut-up lemon. Cook 1 1/2 hours at 425 degrees. Voila.

You can go the easier route and just buy a roast chicken and stock/broth at the store, OR you can go the labor-intensive route of brining the bird overnight, roasting it the next day, making homemade stock after you've taken the meat off, and then begin the soup. The latter produces SUBLIME results. The meat is so moist and flavorful from the brine, and the broth is a rich, golden brown color. The veggies go: mirepois (carrots, onion, celery), garlic, and then whatever root veggies you like. We use rutabaga, parsnips, and turnips. Throw a little bouquet garnis in there (fresh herbs tied up with a string or put in a small bag) while it's simmering, orzo, fresh parsley and chicken at the very end, and you're done. We like eating it with freshly grated Parmegiano Reggiano on top, along with a squeeze of lemon juice.

Hastily taken photograph. Wish I took some better ones.

I made a double batch yesterday so I could bring some to my friend who just had a baby boy last week, but I skipped the brining and making stock-part. Still turned out pretty tasty.

I also tried a new recipe, Ginger Tea Cake, that I read in one of my books, After the Baby's Birth: A Complete Guide for Postpartum Women. The book itself it great because you normally just read about the pregnancy/labor portion and forget about what happens to you AFTER the little bugger is born. It borrows extensively from the Ayurvedic lifestyle practiced in India, including recommendations of food that are given to postpartum women like ghee, honey, milk, almonds, and coconut rice. The recipe was so simple, I'm going to write it down from memory since I just lent the book to my friend.

- 1/2 cup of boiling water

- 1 stick of butter (1/4 lb)

- 1 inch of fresh ginger, grated (or 1 tbsp. of dry ground ginger)

- 1/2 cup of blackstrap molasses

- 1 egg, beaten

- 1/2 cup brown or raw sugar

- 1 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour (I used AP)

- 1 tsp baking powder

- 1 tbsp cinnamon

- 1/4 tsp salt

(the photo above is for double the normal recipe, hence, two eggs and two sticks of butter)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Pour boiling water over butter and ginger to melt. Stir in the rest of the ingredients and beat until smooth. Bake in a buttered 8 by 8-inch pan, for approx. 35 minutes, or until a toothpick stuck in the center comes out clean. Best served warm with tea.

My verdict: I may sift the flour, mix more thoroughly, or let the batter rest a minute next time since there were tiny bits of uncooked flour in the cake. It still tasted great though, a lot like the gingerbread cake my great-grandma used to make and serve with whipped cream on top. It's not too sweet, and delicous with a cup o' tea. (I also used a 9 by 9-inch pan which worked fine, and will probably even use a muffin tin next time. Just adjust the cooking time.)

Not the prettiest cake I've made, but mighty tasty all the same.

One more dish I made last night was a cucumber salad with mint and feta. I won't write the recipe down here because I snagged it off a great blog called Simply Recipes, so check out this link if you're interested in making it. Again, a very simple, light, refreshing dish, perfect for summer. I used apple cider vinegar instead of white vinegar, I'm sure you could even use balsamic or red wine if you preferred.

I won't let go of summer. I won't.

Have a great weekend everyone!

-A.