Cooking Zen

It's taken me 27 years to realize my cooking zen. I think part of my cooking anxieties come from feeling rushed, cluttered and inexperienced. And aside from the inexperience part, I have realized that I can control my cooking environment to make the process a lot less stressful.

First of all, I need solace. My best meals have come on weekends with Justin around to entertain the babe, or with Houston fully occupied in an episode of Super Why. I cannot cook with someone weaving cars between my legs, whining, or reaching for pots from the stove top.

Second of all, I need time. I cannot cook under pressure. Ever. I have to start dinner at 4 in order to have any sort of accuracy or creativity. I am too ADD to feel rushed.

Thirdly, I need peace. Wine + Music = peace. Lately, I've been simmering to Adele or Ingrid Michaelson.

We're waiting for this barbecue chicken recipe to come out of the oven now. Although disclaimer: Houston woke up from a nap mid-preparation, crying. So if some ingredient is missing and dinner turns out to be a wash, blame the mishap on my meditation interruption.

Are you an anxious cooker? Have you found your "zen"? What's your favorite cooking music? I need an expanded playlist... so leave suggestions below!

Hurricane Houston... and Danielle. And sometimes Justin.

I was blessed with a husband who cleans. Honestly, if Houston and I were left alone with each other, I don't know how long it would take for our house to look like someone from "Hoarders." But sometimes the house gets to a point, even with my cleaning husband, where it is much easier to blog about its disastrousness then to actually do anything about it.

From where I sit at my kitchen counter, I can see Houston's jams from last night, strewn around the living room. There's a suitcase in my dining room from the time, last month, when we went to visit my sister in Burlington. Houston figured out how to work the zipper, so there are even more clothes heaped in a pile around his kitchen set. That damn kitchen set. There are plastic potatoes, and spatulas, and hot dog buns all over the place, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers, mostly gone, sitting in his kitchen sink. I don't want to know what I'd find if I opened his fridge.

There are dishes in the real sink. Toys all over the kitchen floor. Random bits of tupperware littered everywhere. Bills on my counter (ugh). Bananas in the fruit bowl that I keep telling myself I'll use for banana bread, but not sure if they're really still edible or not. And that's just what I can see. Here. Without moving.

I keep telling myself I just need to look up ONE more thing on the computer before I start. Facebook statuses, my Fantasy Football team, my email, my blog stats. But in the back of my mind the question remains, what if your mother-in-law stops by RIGHT now?

Time to chug the rest of my dunks, turn on Itunes, and just start... sigh. What's your motivation for cleaning when your living space becomes too cluttered to go on living? What inspires you? Leave love below!

If I was a single woman and liked animals... maybe?

Just some big, expensive shoes. Sigh.

I think it's funny sometimes when I go shopping and scan clearance racks and sale shelves to find the cutest yet cheapest item I can buy that "mostly" fits, but yet don't think twice when buying clothing for my son who will likely outgrow his wardrobe in 3 to 6 months. Last week I spend $24.99 on a pair of brown shoes I desperately needed for fall, while spending double on my son's shoes last night. $50. Now granted, Houston's walking needs are a little different then mine - I don't want to permanently stunt his growth by skimping on shoes, but $50. Eeks. This is when I'm glad I have a little boy who can get away with one pair of shoes (gasp!) and not a little girl who needs dressy black shoes, brown shoes, casual shoes, sneakers, etc. Our income could not withstand TWO women buying shoes. Even if one DOES shop clearance.

Justin and I took Houston to Stride Rite last night to get some new sneakers and couldn't believe he was a size SEVEN. And guess which category that puts him in at the shoe store... PRESCHOOL!! Now, I know my kid has always had bigger feet than his playgroup pals, but PRESCHOOL-sized feet!? He's not even 2! yet. Ugh. Poor kid... looks like he's inheriting ONE of mommy's traits. And clearly not my finest.

Hew's new kicks

And can I also say, saleswoman at Stride Rite, when I am obviously and outwardly shocked after you measure my son's foot, can you at least pretend to smile or reassure me? I know your boyfriend is in the store waiting for you to get off work, but c'mon, please pretend to be amused by annoying mothers with big feet.

What Should I Do With My Life?

is the title of the book on the bookshelf that's glaring at me. I've had it since college, and kinda hoped that there would be some secret answer in there somewhere. A sentence that said, "Danielle, you should be a _____." Well, I guess it might as well have said that, because at that time in my life the book had relatively no insight.

I dug it out again recently, as I sullenly passed by dozens of pregnancy and baby books that Houston and I had developmentally outgrown. Lately, there have been situations in life that have me asking that question again: What should I do with my life?

I love this quote by Po Bronson:

"Your calling isn't something you inherently "know," some kind of destiny. Far from it. Almost all of the people I interviewed found their calling after great difficulty. They had made mistakes before getting it right. For instance, the catfish farmer used to be an investment banker, the truck driver had been an entertainment lawyer, a chef had been an academic, and the police officer was a Harvard MBA. Everyone discovered latent talents that weren't in their skill sets at age 25. Most of us don't get epiphanies. We only get a whisper -- a faint urge. That's it. That's the call. It's up to you to do the work of discovery, to connect it to an answer. Of course, there's never a single right answer. At some point, it feels right enough that you choose, and the energy formerly spent casting about is now devoted to making your choice fruitful."

I tried to imagine a life in which money had no bearing and health insurance was a moot point. What WOULD I do if I had true freedom? I wish I was the kind of mom who would say that I'd just stay home with my kid all day. Truth is, as much as I love my son, I don't think he or I would fare well with that scenario. I DO want to be home more with Houston, so that is a factor, but I definitely need my creative space and adult time. I think my dream life would be snuggling with Houston in the morning until about 9, dropping him at Meemaw's for lunch and naptime, and picking him back up again at around 2. From 10-2, I could go to Borders, have a coffee and a danish and just write. I wonder if it means I'm a fatty that two important elements of my job involve food? Food, flexibility, baby time, jammy time, creativity and maybe a little fame... too much to ask for? I don't think so. Well, maybe the jammy time.

So... the question begs to be asked: What should YOU do with your dream life? Leave comments below! :)

Need help deciding? Check out this link for ideas... it's now bookmarked on my comp.

Who's the Dunce Now?

Nothing makes you feel smarter than working with kids. I mean, it's awful that part of the joy in my life comes from using children to boost my own ego, but it's the truth. Especially since my knowledge of sex ed came from a children's book my mom handed to me when I was 7 that said babies come after mommy and daddy "do a special cuddle in bed." Talk about confusing, right?

So you can imagine my joy at hearing other kids' takes on baby making. Especially now that, 20 years later, I can proudly say that I know what "cuddle" reallllly means.

I was trying to review a math problem today with my kids that had to do with averages... the problem said, "If a new student joined the class how many brothers and sisters would you expect him to have? Explain." I heard a few random answers then got this little gem: "I would expect the new student would have 3 brothers and sisters because their mom probably took 3 pills and then, poof, 3 babies!"

Someone's going to be traumatized when they get their first headache...

If there's one thing to be smart about...

it's voting.

Now I admit, when I was 18 and stoked to vote for the first time, I picked all the females on the ballot and colored in their ovals painstakingly. Since then, I'm pleased to report that I've grown up a bit (although if worse comes to worse and I have absolutely no clue, I have to admit that I resort to the "girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider" approach). I did some research and was ready to vote with confidence.

Without getting into a political rant, because let's face it - it's November 2nd and we're all a BIT tired of that, I can't overstate the importance of making time in the day to hit the polls. And it's even more important to me to show my son how vital it is to vote. I was fortunate enough to have the day off from school today, so Houston and I hit our voting ward early.

Houston, all 19 months of him, is not a novice to voting. He's been traipsed into the claustrophobic booth with me, and juggled from hip to hip for as many elections as there have been. Although he's definitely becoming astutely aware of how bizarre the whole process is. After being removed from his car seat prematurely, with chocolate munchkin still in hand, he reached up for my hand with a chocolate-glaze smile, always a good sport for whatever adventure awaits. We walked down the long wheelchair ramp into the musty smelling church, and before we had even made it inside were interrupted by a creaky, "Who arrre youuuu voting for, little boyyyyy?"

That's when Houston dropped my hand, and smile, and looked urgently at me saying, "Up, up?"

From car to booth, back to car, there was no shortage of little old lady eager to ask Houston who he had voted for. Which to me is a) inappropriate to ask, and b) aggressive interaction with a toddler. We eventually made it into the booth (okay, now I know I'm no chunk, but seriously - does anyone consider that people may need more than 1 square foot of room to vote comfortably?), and juggled Houston over to my right hip so I could write freely with my left hand. He looked anxious, so I said, "Okay Hew... time for momma to color." To which I heard from the booth on my right, "Well that's a fun way to look at it. She told him she was going to color."

Okay old lady, as I tell my 7-year-old students, MYOB. And also, who else was in HER booth? Kinky.

We made our way out of the booth to deposit our ballots, only to be faced with (you guessed it) another old lady. Houston knew the routine at this point though, and hid behind my legs, gently pushing me out the door.

As I strapped him back into his car seat, he looked at me with those green eyes and asked, "All done?" I said, "Yes. All done!" He said, "Okayyyy! More munka?" Poor kid.... all that work for another chocolate munchkin.

Love that kid.

"Who are youuuu voting for, sonnnny?"

....back!?

So about the past 7 months (and yes, I did, despite knowing better from my 2nd grade reprimands, count those months on my fingers)... yeah. About them. As Houston would say, "Ummmm..." It's a bad habit that I've passed on to my newly-verbal little man. I have no explanation, except to say, "life." And we'll leave it at that. Kay? Kay.

So I've been stressing out because November has been approaching and last year I participated in my first ever Nanowrimo (national novel writing month). It was great to get back into writing but also kind of a huge time commitment. At that time, Houston was just a little nugget I could stick in the corner somewhere and he's bat around at mobiles and springy toys precariously suctioned to a nearby wall. Now, he's older. And way more fun. And way more work. And not to mention, Justin's working way more hours. So like I said, I've been stressing. The thing is, I WANT to continue writing, but the problem is at this point in my life, I just don't have time. Hence, here I am! :) I'm back and ready to continue sharing my adventures in cooking, organizing, creating, and well... life.

Don't worry. I'm still a dunce. There will be lots to read about my cooking adventures. But a lot of things have changed in my life forcing me to make some pretty drastic alterations to my lifestyle. Please join me, again, my loyal friends, as I share some of these new and exciting elements of my life with YOU... dunce to dunce. No offense.

Oh HEY THERE fancy cooking :)

So perhaps my dunce-ities have come from cooking recipes that are too easy, because, not to toot my own horn, but when it comes to preparing meals with special sauces I'm a pretty damn good chef if I do say so myself. This past week I've made things with the titles "Pan Seared Green Peppercorn Filet," "Chicken and Asparagus in White Wine Sauce," and "Herb Crusted Pork Loin." Normally I would look at these titles and say, "Psh, yeah," and turn the page. BUT, I've found that going to the grocery store and stocking up on a few common ingredients has made my life so much easier! I picked up a couple of good cooking wines, beef and chicken stock, and a few fresh veggies, and my cooking world has been turned upside down! I suddenly have a myriad of recipes at my fingertips and can cook without a dreaded last minute trip to Hannaford! I feel like I am cooking gourmet meals - and they TASTE like gourmet meals (note: my definition of gourmet being something I would order in a restaurant). I've been reinspired and I'm leaving the baking to my sister from now on! :)

Make Love to Jamie Oliver, Anyone?

Sorry for the lapse in writing... there's no excuse for my adult onset ADHD, except well, my self-diagnosed adult ADHD.

Has anyone watched Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution? I credit him for refocusing my mind on healthy eating. How about that Huntington, WV (America's unhealthiest city)? I felt sorry for the mother whose "home cooking" was literally killing her family... I was impressed with those donuts she made though. But when they stacked all the fried food she made for her family in one week, I have to say, the donuts suddenly lost their appeal.

And the elementary school? Those little kids hit so close to home - especially now that I'm on "lunch duty" at my school. Our school seems to do a decent job of making healthy lunches, but like Jamie said, the amount of food that gets tossed is sickening - poor fruits and veggies. I feel like the old school lunch duty teacher I was afraid of in elementary school, but taking Jamie's cue, I have been sending some kids back to take "just one bite" of a veggie. The thing is, most kids will do it. Of course there are stubborn ones - but the majority of them just don't eat them because in their mind, that's okay. There's no mom in the lunch room making sure they eat - until nowww. Wuh wuhhhhh.

There are times when I just don't feel like fighting with Houston about eating vegetables. But I don't want him to think when he goes to school some day that he can eliminate them altogether from his diet. Guess whose little baby plate had a heaping lump of vegetables last night?

Thank you Jamie for refocusing my brain on my mission of building a healthy family. And PS, your adorable British accent doesn't hurt either.

Check out Jamie's site and sign his petition for healthy eating:
http://www.jamieoliver.com/campaigns/jamies-food-revolution

Birthday Fun!