Friday's Writing Prompt: A Memorable Recipe

Mama's Losing It: 3.) Share a family favorite childhood recipe.

I remember, when I was younger, one of the meals my mom liked to make for us was Chicken and Dumplings- and she was good at it.

And I remember there was a moment during my childhood that my mom made Chicken and Dumplings EVERY day for about a week.  We- my siblings and I- recounted this memory many years later and my mom denied it, but we remembered.

The thing about the Chicken and Dumplings, though, is out of all the meals I had growing up, that's the meal that sticks out- and not because we nearly demanded a new dish after repeated servings of it.  Its not flashy; its not exotic; but if you were to ask me to define my childhood in a meal, that would be it:

• warm
• satisfying
• comforting
• seemingly ordinary, yet profoundly extraordinary
• simple
• homey
• and, at times, repetitive

The amazing thing about the "simple" dishes, though, is the fewer the ingredients, the bigger the chance of screwing it up.  Remembering my tasty childhood memories, I wanted so badly to share this meal with my in-laws once I was married and -let's just say- while it wasn't a "crash and burn", it WAS a lesson learned.

I'm proud to say that the years have been good to my cooking chops, so the recipe that follows is now only in my recipe book purely for the memories.  The real recipe I hold in my heart.

Chicken and Dumplings
2 cups chopped celery
2 cups chopped carrots
2 cups diced onion
2 cloves garlic
1 3-4lb roaster chicken
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp rosemary
2 bay leaves
salt
pepper
1 cup milk+2 tbsp cornstarch (for thickening power)

Put chicken in a large pot.  Cover COMPLETELY with water.  Add bay leaves and allow it to come to a boil.  Add a couple of LARGE dashes of salt (remember- the chicken and veggies don't come packed with their own flavoring, so salt now and then re-taste later to see if it needs more!), pepper (to YOUR taste preference), thyme and rosemary.  Set to med. heat for 45-60 minutes or until the chicken is falling off the bone.

Remove chicken from pot and set aside to cool.  Remove any pieces of skin that might be floating in the pot by itself- boiled skin isn't really tasty.  If you're particularly "choosy" (such a better word than picky, don'tcha think?), you can strain all the stock to get out any "floaties".  If you want thicker soup, now is the time to add the milk/cornstarch slurry.  If I were you, I'd add a little at a time.  You won't see the full thickening power until the soup comes to a boil, so do this part SLOWLY.

Add diced veggies to the pot.  While veggies are cooking, shred the chicken (it should be cool enough to touch without burning yourself).  Once the veggies are tender, add the chicken and remove the bay leaves.  Taste it now, because it becomes MUCHO difficult once the dumplings are crowding the pot.

And NOW- its time to make the dumplings.

Dumplings
2 cups Bisquick
2/3 cups milk

Stir until a soft dough forms.  Drop spoonfuls into the boiling stew; reduce heat to a simmer.  Cook uncovered for 10 minutes; cook covered for 10 minutes.

Now EAT.

School days, school days...

As I glanced around me, the faces on each individual held expressions that you could only expect on a day like today.

Well, today and MAYBE if the newspapers that morning had run an announcement about impending Armageddon.

Glazed over eyes- some red, some watery, some a little of both- with a painted on expression of calm, (purely for the sake of the kids, of course) but any other parent knows that simmering just below the surface raged fear, terror, sadness, and just the slightest hint of nausea.

Welcome to the first day of school.  More importantly, welcome to the first day of kindergarten., where the recruits are pint sized and the basics of survival include writing your name and knowing your colors.

Yes, I'm comparing kindergarten to the military. Even though the little guys (and gals) aren't very imposing -with their baby faces and backpacks half their size- taking a look around the orientation room, you'd think we were sending our babies off to war.

Parents drifted in and out of consciousness, only occasionally showing signs of life, wringing their hands, tapping their feet, and continually checking their watches, trying to pass the time til we would be allowed to rejoin our little kindergarteners back in the classroom.

Suddenly, we were given the “GO” to head back.

Like runners at the start of a race, many parents jumped up with a speed that Flo Jo would have envied.

As I made my way to the door, I heard one mom say,”...she was never in preschool, so she's probably shell-shocked and wondering where I am. I wouldn't be surprised if she's in tears.” I can see her nervously laughing, but her eyes give away a wild kind of look- like a mother lion rushing to get back to her cub before poachers take it away.

The last one to file into the classroom, I almost burst out laughing. None of those kids missed us. They were sitting on their colored carpet squares, listening to 'The Kissing Hand', and playing with their neighbor who was sitting closest to them.

Of course, despite their content children, the nervous, frantic look the parents wore made me wonder whether or not they were going to give themselves 40 lashings for letting their tiny tots out of view.

I know I come off as sarcastic and a little mean (I wouldn't be me if I wasn't), and I get it. Its scary to see your baby grow up- I'm not denying that. I remember being new at the whole “first day” thing. I laugh because it just hit me what I must've looked like.

Of course, that was when my little guppie was entering a puddle.

Today I let e guppie go and watched as my oldest went from puddle to pond- Jr. High.

But, I have to tell you all- I was brave. I wasn't like the rest. I was a pro. No tears here. I took my mandatory “first day of school” pics and waved to him as he headed out the door with his friends.

I only hugged him once...

twice...

ok, so it was 3 times.

I was totally and completely in control of my emotions as I asked him over and over if he had everything he needed , and I think I did a pretty good job at hiding fear when I reminded him to call me right after school.

Yup, I kept it cool as a cucumber.

Up until I saw that it was 1, realized that he'd had a half day and was supposed to get out by 12:55, and ended up calling him...

...during his last few minutes of school; frantic, wondering if he had been swallowed up by a larger fish.

FYI- your clocks at home DO NOT necessarily reflect school time.

You know- in case you were wondering.

Friday's Writing Prompt: Leaving Never, Never Land

Mama's Losing It: 1.) A moment you realized your child was growing up.

All of us have a point at which we truly grow up- or, at least, I'd like to think everyone does. There are a few boys I knew in high school that I would question that, but, for the most part, we all grow up.

As a parent, I'm starting to realize that I go back and forth between wanting my kids to grow up and wanting them to remain babies forever:

~when Camo gives me a hug out of nowhere- aw, stay a baby!

~when Camo annoys me to no end- please, grow up and move out already!

~when Jacob snuggles up to me- stay my baby forever

~when Jacob starts a fight with his brother and tries to PLAY the baby card- grow up.

~when Nicholas is sleeping- my sweet, little baby boy... stay this way forever.

~when Nicholas is up and making me hold him while he cries non-stop- yeah, you can grow up already.

I've noticed that a lot of people have a habit of correcting the things that little kids do- their quirks that make them kids. Things like pronouncing things wrong and EMBELLISHING the truth (yes, its a fancy way of saying 'lying'), seem to get under their skin- like a kid is going to go off to college pronouncing double L's with a 'y' sound. To my knowledge, most kids that have made it that far, have acquired the necessary skills and abilities to carry on a proper conversation with other adults, never once referring to their brother as 'budda'.

I can't tell you the EXACT day that I realized my oldest baby was no longer a baby, but I'm sure it started small; too small for me to really have noticed. Maybe it was after he had been chastised (not by me, mind you) for telling people that he had seen a bear on a walk he had taken. Maybe it was the 100th time he was told that "we call it a GLOVE not a GLUB". Maybe it was the day that a friend in school had convinced him that Santa wasn't real. I'm really not sure, which is sad, because he was my very first baby- my guinea pig for parenting- and, as good as I was at keeping track of things in his baby book, you just don't write down the day your son grew up and began to understand that cooties aren't real and liking a girl wasn't icky. You don't keep track of their choices of shoe brands right there along with when they said their first word.

But, what I DO know is what I know NOW, and that's that it doesn't matter if my middle son believes in the tooth fairy or that "No, mom, this is REALLY how it happened". I mean, fishermen tell tall tales everyday and no one reprimands them.

Because, one day, when I'm not keeping track, my babies are going to be all grown up; and they won't be referring to binoculars as "big knockers" and they won't write letters to Santa- they'll just tell me. One day, I'll look, and they'll have babies of their own and be trying desperately to keep track of all the important times, never understanding that EVERY day is important. And they'll be trying to figure out when it is that THEIR babies just suddenly weren't anymore, but they won't be able to recall that ONE moment, either.

But, until that day, when they're treading the same waters I have, I'm going to keep them close. And, while I might not be able to pinpoint the precise moment at which my babies went from "too cute" to "cool dude", I know its happening. I have more than enough photos to prove it.

Friday's Writing Prompt: Simply Beautiful

Mama's Losing It: Write about the simple things.

Life is a funny thing.

We work our butts off- day in, day out- so we can -not just LIVE- but live WELL. For some reason, someone put the statement out there that life isn't worth living unless you have it all while doing it all.

People watch their marriages crumble because they're so busy keeping up with the Jones' that they neglect their own home. Our kids get into trouble because they're hoping for any kind of attention, but that's ok, because they're wearing those sneakers that the Jones kid wears that they just HAD to have.

*stepping down off my soapbox*

I live in Southern California (some of the only really personal info I'll put out there), and in a place where EVERYthing is only an hour away, my favorite times I've had have been spent with my family just a few miles away: on hikes, traveling down mine and my husband's 'Memory Lane'; sitting in our local mall, people watching; our Date Night's in when we've played games together...

Sure, if we had more money, things would be easier and we'd probably make memories at Disneyland and what not, but the thing about lacking a huge bank roll, is you have to get creative.

Think about it- when you were younger, you didn't have access to money, so what did you make your parents for birthdays and holidays? Macaroni structures, coupon books, pictures on construction paper...

My mom accidentally sliced her finger when I was younger and needed stitches. The only thing I knew I could do to help her feel better was make her a picture. Now, I'm sure she might have one or two cards saved from over the years, but I know for a fact that picture I drew to help her feel better is in one of her photo albums. Its nothing fancy- far less superior to anything I could do today- but to my mom, it was worthy enough to be put into her album of things to remember.

When I was younger, we took yearly trips to an amusement park near us (good 'ol So Cal), and while I can kind of remember little details from a couple of the trips, none of them compare to the week long camping trip my dad took us on where we visited a few different states or the nights my dad would sit reading to us from the Chronicles of Narnia series.

Trips to my Grammie's house are mainly remembered for the trips to the water tower, the walks to 7-11 with my cousins to buy Garbage Pail Kids, the walks to the park, and lying on the trampoline, looking at the stars.

When my kids are grown, I'm hoping that they'll treasure the simple things like I do. Sure, I hope they make a LOT more money and can afford more, but I hope that when they look back, their favorite times are things like our family reunions, playing catch with their dad, helping me in the kitchen, and going fishing with their grampa. I hope that even though they own many nice things, the things they cherish the most will be the things money can't buy.

Because, in the end, you'll come home from that trip, those "things" will get old, broken, or go out of style, but the simple things- those are the things you take the most care of and put in a place where they'll never be destroyed...

your heart.

I've got my kid on a string...

In 2 days, my oldest will no longer be in elementary school.

*shudder*

For some reason, some twit thought it would be funny to have Jr. High start (in our district) in 6th grade.

As if kids don't grow up fast enough, let's throw an 11 year old into Jr. High.  I know its just a label, but I look at it this way: in elementary school, they're learning the basics to proceed.  In Jr. High, they're getting them ready for high school and higher education. 

My son thinks its hilarious to listen to someone spell 'icup'- you're telling me HE is ready to be prepped for higher learning??

I'm already having a hard time explaining to him that he's too young for girlfriends- whats going to happen when he's trying to fit in with older kids at this new school?  Everyone worries about their daughters and them growing up too fast; no one stops to think about how fast boys grow up. A girl can only carry so many babies at once- boys can impregnate multiple girls.

I try to remind myself that all we've taught them will stick and they'll emerge unscathed, but I've tried repeatedly to teach them that poop jokes aren't to be told at the dinner table, and all I ever hear is "I forgot."  How much of what we teach will stick in the times we need it to?  How much of what we teach will be "forgotten" when faced with the opportunity to be "cool"?

As a parent, we want our kids to grow wings- to grow up, experience new things, and -God willing- move out before our sanity completely dissolves.  Its just kind of scary to watch it happen.

I'm not suggesting lead shoes to keep him grounded... maybe just a kite string for if he flies to far out of reach, ya know?