MammaSteph's Musings

Word of the day: Ugnula

2010-06-03T20:37:00.002-04:00

According to Ms.6, a "ugnula" (pronounced "you-NEW-lah") is a camel penis. This is the first thing she told me when I asked, "How was school today?" Apparently her best friend learned that a camel penis is called a "ugnula". Her friend supposedly acquired this fact during her travels to Cuba. Puzzling, because I wasn't aware that Cuba had a desert full of horny, wandering camels.

Now Ms. 6 has been known to embellish the truth somewhat. This has been a fairly recent development. First indication of said embellishments was a few weeks ago when she proceeded to tell me about her science excursion with her senior kindergarten class. They explored various plants & flowers in a field. During this trip, Ms.6 tells me a few birds landed on her shoulders, head, and hands. The birds began to sing a merry song. It appears she was channelling St. Francis of Assisi. When I asked if she was the only child partial to the phenomenon of the friendly animals reminiscent of a Disney movie, she replied that her friend (the one who rode camels in the Cuban desert) also had a few birds chatting her up.

So what to do? Crush her imagination? I have to give her credit - she's making up some entertaining stories. She convinced me to the point where I just had to google "ugnula" in various spelling versions, as well as "camel + penis". Imagine the results on THAT search! Perhaps I'll see how it rides out... I just don't want it to be a case of the girl who cried camel penis one too many times.

Coffee = Happiness

2010-05-11T22:59:00.002-04:00

After 2 long weeks of detox, my first sip of espresso was indescribably...divine. Really, that's the only term that comes to mind. DIVINE!

But why is coffee so precious to me? Truth be told, I'm able to manage without it. The first days of detox left me with horrific symptoms of caffeine withdrawal. I don't care if people think it's psychological, but I can tell you that the stabbing pain behind my left eye was very very real. And yet, I'm here to tell my tale.

So I can manage without coffee, but I don't want to. Why? Because! Because coffee is good. Coffee is home. Coffee is friendship. Coffee is happiness!!!

I grew up with coffee playing a huge part in my life. Every morning, I'd awaken to the glorious scent of espresso brewing in the kitchen. Even as a young child, espresso found its' way into my breakfast routine: latte e caffe con biscottini (biscuits/cookies with a latte). Such sweetness! Eventually, I graduated to drinking espresso straight up with only a hint of sugar. I was 13 & it was my great-aunt, Zia Michellina, who said she felt I was mature enough to handle it.

Guests were never allowed to leave without the mandatory "caffe tra amici". Friendship = Coffee. In fact, my mother always said "Il caffe freddo si offre agli amici" (iced coffee is always offered to friends), so we always made sure we had some on hand.

As for the sugar? It's a matter of preference. My mom's friend, "Maria La Romana" would say, "la vita e' gia' abbastanza amare per non prendere lo zucchero nel caffe" (life is already bitter enough to not take sugar in one's coffee).

And so, I've learned that I need not depend on my vice. However, I will continue my reverence & appreciation for the "liquid gold". It's far too good to pass up.

Detox days 12 & 13

2010-05-05T19:08:00.002-04:00

This is getting tiring now... I'm near the end of my cleanse & I believe it's done what it was meant to do. Yes, it's put a slight spring in my step. Yes, I'm feeling more energetic & "on", without the help of caffeine. But... I'm getting tired of it. I really really really want an espresso in the biggest, baddest way possible.

I did 2 mini-cheats. Once you're at the end of the second week, I think mini-cheats are inevitable. I mean, I've been so very good, so why not! Plus, one of my cheats was for the purpose of job security - a piece of birthday cake in honour of my branch manager.

Day 12
Breakfast: oatmeal, banana & hemp seeds
snack: grapes
lunch: salad w/ tuna
cheat: teeny weeny piece of birthday cake... again,for my branch manager - and I couldn't risk losing my job by not eating the cake.
snack: applesauce & almonds
dinner: butternut squash soup & rice cakes w/ apple butter
snack: apple & some pistachio nuts

Day 13
breakfast: oatmeal, banana & hemp seeds (yawn)
lunch: a McDonald's Happy Meal - in honour of McHappy Day to benefit local charities.... BUT I had chicken nuggets (batter peeled off lovingly by moi), apple slices & water. So, technically, it was a half-cheat
snack: 1 rice cake w/ apple butter
snack: 1 apple & a handful of pistachios
dinner: chili c/o my mamma-in-law & a nice big salad
snack... to be determined... maybe another rice cake....and definitely an herbal tea

Detox Days 10 & 11

2010-05-03T19:28:00.002-04:00

I couldn't blog about it yesterday - I simply couldn't. I had window-washing arm fatigue. Oh, it was horrible. I wasn't even sure I'd be able to chop up veggies for my salad, but I persevered.

Not sure where all the energy came from, but I went to town with my spring cleaning yesterday. I hadn't realize that could be possible without the aid of a cappuccino. Live and learn, eh!

Our family was paid a surprise visit from my in laws yesterday. They were kind enough to offer us an ice cream excursion. Don't think I didn't consider it, because I did. Not only did I consider it, but I had actually made a conscious decision to CHEAT by indulging in a kiddie cone at Paloma Gelateria & Cafe. I had even decided that I would get Donatella (that's the Nutealla flavoured goodness that is pure evil....oxymorons rock!).

When we arrived at Paloma, the detox diva in me couldn't do it. Nope. I didn't do it. I sat there, waiting patiently for everyone to finish their gelato (as my eyes nearly popped out of my head & I salivated like a tiger in a butcher shop). Then I went home & had my rice cake & apple butter snack with a lovely chamomile lavender tea. How'd ya like them apples?

Day 10
breakfast - funky cereal w/ banana & almond milk
lunch- brown rice pasta w/ grilled chicken breast
snack - mango
snack - pistachio nuts & an apple
dinner - salad w/ tuna
snack - rice cakes w/ apple butter

Day 11
breakfast - oatmeal w/ bananas
lunch - Mediterranean quinoa salad
snack - apple sauce & almonds
dinner - curried butternut squash soup & 2 rice cakes w/ apple butter
I'll have another snack later on... maybe some grapes & nuts. Not grapenuts (hahahahahahahahaha) ehem.

Detox Day 9

2010-05-01T23:08:00.003-04:00

If ever there was a day when I was entitled to cheat my detox into oblivion, it was today. From a wild goose chase for Miss 6's ballet slippers (which have disappeared into thin air, along with her brand new sun hat) to madness at the mall, it was hellish to say the very least.

What is wrong with people in shopping malls? When you park your vehicle, do you leave your brain behind as well??? Bloody hell! Watch where you're going, for starters. If you're walking northbound, then don't be looking eastward - LOOK NORTHWARD! I can't tell you how irritating it is for me to have to move out of your way because you're too busy looking at a puppy dog quilt while charging full speed ahead.... Now you understand why I was so tempted to cheat. I needed an iced, tall, soy, chai tea latte BADLY. But. I didn't do it. Nope. It nearly slayed me, but I held fast.

However.... Giada's cookbook proved to be a different story. I couldn't resist making her Prosciutto Mozzarella Pinwheels for dinner tonight (for my family!). Quinoa Mediterranean salad was on the menu for me. Now, forgive me for being a mere mortal, but I made those friggin' pinwheels & there was no way in hell that I wasn't going to have a bite. In all fairness, I needed to be assured of the fact that I was serving up something edible to my family. That's my job (uh huh). Turns out the pinwheels were divine. Two bites was more than enough to get my guilt meter started up, so it was back to quinoa pronto.

Breakfast: oatmeal & banana
Lunch: brown rice pasta w/ grilled chicken breast
snack: 2 rice cakes w/ apple butter
snack: a couple of slices of turkey breast & a bunch (not massive) of grapes
cheat: 2 bites of the pinwheel (mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmnomnom)
dinner: Mediterranean quinoa salad (w/ tomatoes, cucumber, onion, goat cheese, evoo & oregano)

I'm so bad...detox day 8

2010-05-01T10:08:00.003-04:00

I've been sick sick sick since Monday. Anytime I've ever tried to start a cleanse, I end up getting really sick & my efforts are thwarted by illness. This time, it's full speed ahead. I'm sick (ha ha) of the sabotage. However, it did cause me to give in a little today. Bear in mind that I was feeling completely run down - not an ounce of energy & calling in sick to work was NOT an option....

Breakfast: oatmeal w/ banana & hemp seeds
Snack: Fruit: (a mix of cantaloupe, pineapple, strawberries)
Lunch: Oh my God ... I really did..... a small bagel w/ cream cheese. For heaven's sake, there was a tray of them in our lunch room. I couldn't help it. Plus, I had some veggies & hummus.
Snack: Rice cakes w/ almond butter & apple butter
Dinner: A big green salad loaded w/ veggies & a grilled chicken breast
Snack: a handful of almonds & applesauce
And lots & lots & lots of herbal teas

It's been one week.... detox day 7

2010-04-29T20:41:00.002-04:00

Wow! I feel like Rocky's theme music should be following me around wherever I go. I've made it to the one-week mark in one piece, though my sanity is in question.

Today proved to be the ultimate test. I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to head into a little boutique shop that sells everything & anything to do with the art of espresso making. I know. Insane, right? Riiiiiiight. But we needed to buy an espresso maker for our branch's give-away. We've put together a contest & the grand prize is a Saeco Via Veneto machine, a Cuisinart stainless steel grinder, a set of espresso cups & a big ol' bag o' coffee beans. It was my idea.... In fact, I would highly recommend you apply for an HSBC Mastercard with NO annual fee & a plethora of perks (like my pitch?) to be able to enter a ballot for the prize. Ehm...anyway, this was my idea prior to starting my cleanse. I should have known that the proprietor would have offered me a cup. The scent seemed to be pumped through the shop - kind of like Cinnabons in the mall. I was in agony. But I survived.

Breakfast: 2 rice cakes topped w/ almond butter & banana
Lunch: brown rice pasta w/ tomato sauce (leftover from last night)
Snack: berry apple sauce
Snack 2: peppers, carrots & hummus
Dinner: Chicken, potato & salad
Mini snack: a handful of grapes & a few almonds

Detox Day 6...a.k.a. 9 days to go

2010-04-28T20:46:00.003-04:00

If one more person asks me what's wrong, I'm going to clock 'em! And that's not the drink talking...unless you classify "the drink" as chamomile tea or water. *sigh*

Yes, I'm on my 6th day of the cleanse. In the past six days, I've had more than my fair share of people questioning me about my sanity as they cannot fathom WHY I would want to torture myself. Is it really such a sacrifice? I'm starting to feel like a monk in a hairshirt.

I also find it amusing how people have suddenly become so generous with their offering of goodies - or maybe I just wasn't noticing (read: appreciative of it) before. Just this week, the following made appearances in my workplace: 1 Bart Simpson chocolate, 1 Spider man chocolate, 1 batch of chocolate chunk cookies, free coffee (holla!) 2 days in a row (!!!), Dairy Queen Blizzards for all (hurray!), Ranch flavoured Sunchips (in their super-cool compostable bag). To all of these wonderful things, I politely declined with a "No, thanks...SABOTEURS!!!"

Righteousness & a will of steel does have it's benefits, though. My skin is positively radiant (...that's an Aveeno product, isn't it? Perhaps I should try it). I feel "lighter", though I haven't weighed myself, so I'm not sure if it's actual weight off or just a lightness of being. And finally, I haven't croaked without coffee. Incredible, no?

Breakfast: oatmeal w/ banana & hemp seeds
Snack: applesauce
Lunch: rice cakes w/ hummus & avocado slices
Snack: celery w/ hummus
Another snack: rice cake w/ apple butter
Dinner: brown rice pasta w/ tomato sauce & a honkin' big green salad
Snack: A bunch of strawberries & a handful of almonds

Cheater Cheater!!! Detox day 5

2010-04-27T20:03:00.002-04:00

Last night, I thought I was going to croak. I was ready to start penning my good-byes to everyone. One minute I was hot. The next minute, I was cold. And no, I am not peri-menopausal! My bones ached & I had chills. It felt as though I was coming down with a whopper of a flu. This morning, I was doing a tad better, but still functioning at only about 60%. I felt crappier than crap. Mr. Hubby attributed it to the detox & suggested I eat a Nutella sandwich. Thanks for the support, eh!

I'm not sure if this is what detox does. Am I supposed to feel like the walking dead?

So far, I've heard from my mom-in-law that caffeine withdrawal can cause depression. Well, I haven't been contemplating taking my life, but I certainly haven't been my chipper self. Then, at work today, my co-workers staged a half-assed intervention underlying the thought: "this detox seems to be making you all mush & down - maybe you should quit it & eat 'normal' food".

Nay, I say. Nay! Nay!

And then, we went to that Swiss chicken place. That's when it happened. 'Twas but a dollop of sour cream. I caved. Pooh to me!

But you know what? I don't care. I suffered last night & today. Bloody aches & pains. I deserved the sour cream. It's not like I did the sour cream, a pinot grigio & fries. Nay! Nay, I say. I merely gave into the sumptuous creaminess of my baked potato topper. But I won't let it ruin what I've accomplished so far. Nay!

Breakfast: oatmeal, banana & hemp seeds (thanks Cat)
Lunch: rice cakes topped with hummus & avocado, a ton of fresh veggies too
Snack : rice cakes topped with apple butter (yes, the rice cakes are convenient)
Snack 2 : an apple - albeit a mushy apple (so very disappointing)
Dinner: Cheater's Delight... Chicken breast, baked potato...and....(cue the music)...big, bad sour cream
The day's not over. I may have some grapes. We'll see.

Detox Day 4

2010-04-26T23:24:00.003-04:00

I didn't want to write this evening. I really really didn't. I'm completely and utterly spent. The last thing I want to do is rehash how difficult it was to sniff at the endless cups of coffee passing me by throughout my workday.

Sure, my coworkers were great about feigning their disgust as the downed their mocha java delights, but I knew it was rocking their world. I resisted & drank a couple of cups of herbal tea.

They say I'm supposed to start feeling better, but I'm not sure that's necessarily true. I'm still feeling rather peevish, though the caffeine withdrawal has eased up a bit (thanks to the kind supplement advice from Ivanka & Mirella). I've doubled my B & C vitamin intake... take THAT, caffeine monster (whom I love a bit too much).

Spreading maple syrup on my kids' pancakes nearly sent me for a loop. It took the power of an army of angels for me not to lick my fingers greedily when a drop of the sweet stuff went astray. Oh what it took! Only 11 days to go...

Breakfast: oatmeal w/ bananas (yes, it's becoming boring, but it's quick & easy)
Lunch: quinoa salad w/ tuna
snack 1: veggies & hummus
snack 2: an apple & almonds
Dinner: (please don't judge...I was tired after making the family dinner) 1 bowl of that funky allowable cereal made from whatchamacallit grains & strawberries w/ almond milk
To drink today: a ton of water, chamomile tea, green tea

detox day 3

2010-04-25T18:58:00.002-04:00

I don't even have the energy to come up with a title today! This is day three, and from what I've been told, it's living up to the expectation of it being one of the worst days. My energy is low low low. I'm a cranky crankster. The gleaming DeLonghi espresso maker on my counter isn't making things any easier. I suppose it would have been an intelligent move to shift the DeLonghi elsewhere. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

This whole ordeal probably wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to worry about cooking for my family. Essentially, my ire boils down to having to prepare 6 meals a day as opposed to 3.

Mr. 4 is actually rather intrigued by mommy's new way of eating & will gladly try whatever I'm eating. Sometimes he'll ask for more, but mostly he'll opt for the "normal meal". As for hubby & Miss 6, let's not even go there. They weren't even willing to taste 1 "O" from my funky cereal cheerios. Mr.4 quite liked them. And yes, they aren't half bad.

Food wise, today was easier on me. I don't find myself very hungry. It appears that what I'm eating is sufficient. Plus, I'm sure all the water I'm downing is making it difficult for any hunger signals to reach my brain. I can't even begin to tell you how much Cottonelle I've used - TMI, I know.

Tomorrow might prove to be a challenge; I've got to take this detox on the road. I don't know if I can handle a workday without coffee. We'll see.

Breakfast: oatmeal & banana - earl grey green tea
Snack: grapes & a handful of almonds
Lunch: brown rice pasta w/ homemade tomato sauce & a sprinkle of goat cheese
Snack: tomatoes, cucumber & humus
super quick snack...olives stuffed with garlic (ooooh sooooo goooood)
Dinner: Leftover from last night - potato, salmon & green salad

This is good for me, right?

2010-04-24T21:39:00.002-04:00

I awoke on day 2 of my cleanse feeling more sluggish & cranky than anything else. The pain behind my left eye was there to bid me top'o' the morn. I finally caved & took 2 ultra - strength Tylenols. Within half an hour, I was feeling a bit more like myself. I'll admit that it did cross my mind to make myself a quick cup of espresso - minus the sugar, of course. I held strong, however, and sipped my green tea instead.

My Saturday morning latte didn't happen. That kind of hurt. By now, it's become a ritual. I drop off Miss 6 to ballet & make a beeline for Centro Cafe. There's a short, dark-haired lady with glasses & a lovely smile. She makes the most divine lattes. She was there this morning & was stunned by the fact that I was only purchasing some a Vienna Loaf for the family. I'm pretty impressed with my resolve.

Dairy Queen also didn't lead me astray today. Let the kids have their chocolate dipped... I did just fine with a handful of almonds. Yup, I loooove almonds. Almonds or ice cream? Almonds all the way! Three cheers for almonds! Okay, enough with the overcompensating. I wanted the ice cream. I had almonds. And that's that.

I'm definitely feeling more cranky on this day 2 of detox. I'm sluggish, agitated...not quite myself. Let's hope for a better tomorrow.

Breakfast:
More of that funky grain cereal thing with almond milk

Lunch:
Greek quinoa salad

Snack:
peppers w/ hummus

a handful of almonds

grapes

Dinner:
potatoes & salmon w/ salad

Snack:
mango

To drink: 1 cup earl grey green tea, 2 cups chamomile-lavender tea & a ton of water

And so it begins...

2010-04-23T17:27:00.004-04:00

Skipping my morning coffee didn't seem like such a big deal today - that is, until the migraine hit on the left side of my head. That's when I realized how dependent I've become on that hit of liquid gold each & every morning. Instead, today, I made do with a minty green tea. It was nice, but didn't quite cut it.

A few times thoughout the course of the day, I came close to slipping up. But then, I'd catch myself & I'd feel pretty darned good about it. Kind of self-righteous. Kind of like, "Look at how good I am. I'm not going through the Timmies drive-thru for a medium double-double." I was armed with a bottle of water. Yes, I did well.

And then, I was caught off-guard. The visit to my mom & dad's house was unexpected. So was their insistance that we all have ice cream. Real cream ice cream. Double churned. With specks of vanilla. Good lord! This was a a very real threat to my will-power. So there I sat, watching them happily lap up their ice cream cones. As for me? I munched on some walnuts my mom had & a small bunch of grapes. Was I happy about it? HELL NO! But I did it...and I'm proud-ish.

Off I went to our local Longos with the kids in tow. Goodies abounded! The nice lady offering cheese (which I couldn't sample because it was regular cow's milk cheese). Our cousin called us over from behind the deli counter with some samples of mortadella. Oh, the kids were in their glory! I was in agony. But I kept telling myself that this cleanse is good for me. Really, it is. It's GREAT FOR ME!!!! YESSSSSS....FANTASTIC. FAN-FRICKIN-TASTIC! (ehem)

The day's not quite over yet, but I think I've done well so far:

Breakfast:
Green tea with blue agave nectar
some weird cereal - I forget the name of the grain, but it's allowed, with almond milk (yeah, no dairy except goat's milk cheese)

Lunch: A salad with all kinds of veggies, topped with tuna

Snack: peppers w/ hummus

enforced snack at my parents' place: 5 walnuts & some grapes

Dinner: grilled chicken breast, rapini, cauliflower, broccoli & carrots

Dessert: an oreo cookie Blizzard

Okay, I'm joking about the dessert part....The reality of it is this: the migraine became so severe that all I could do to keep from trying to pry my left eye out with a kitchen utensil was go to sleep. And that's exactly what I did. I slept from 7:30pm until now (mindigh-ish). But I think I'm ready to go to sleep again.
Detox rocks! Wooo hooooo!

The good, the bad and the detox

2010-04-22T18:19:00.003-04:00

I'm holding myself accountable here. It's been a long time coming, and finally I am ready to detoxify my body. No excuses! It's time for some internal spring cleaning. I'm pulling out all my arsenal: quinao, kamut, brown rice, fresh fruits & veggies (with some exclusions that really don't make sense to me, but I'll do my best to follow). Out with the bad stuff (though it's really oh so good). Yes, dear reader, I am going to lay it all out in it's inevitable ugliness.

Most difficult will be giving up my caffeine habit over the course of the next 15 days. Granted, I'm not as bad as I used to be. Back when grunge & plaid shirts were du jour, I could easily knock back 7-10 cups of caffeinated beverage per day. Lately, I've been indulging in a meager 1-4 cups daily. Not bad, right? So eliminating it should be rather simple, right? I'm not so sure. I'll report back on day 1 tomorrow.

Wish me luck. I need it.

Here we go....

An H1N1 Halloween

2009-10-31T14:14:00.002-04:00

Here's a summary of a great article by Mary K. Nolan that was published in today's Hamilton Spectator:

Some moms and dads may question the wisdom of allowing their kids to mingle at Halloween parties or go door-to-door when the flu virus is already getting around quite effectively on its own.

Germy doorbells and communal candy bowls seem like ideal vehicles for helping it along.

Here's some advice:

* When kids come to the door, don't let them fish around in the candy bowl for their goodies, drop treats in the kids' bags individually.

* Wash store-bought masks before allowing kids to wear them. You never know who has tried them on ... or what germs they had.

* Homeowners should wipe down their doorbell, knocker or knobs throughout the evening; kids should wear gloves with their costumes, use hand sanitizer between homes and keep their hands away from their faces.

* Sick children should stay home no matter how much they beg; sick parents shouldn't hand out treats.

* Don't eat any candy that isn't wrapped, for more reasons than H1N1.

* No bobbing for apples, if anybody actually does that anymore.

* And no "a bite for you, a bite for me" sharing of candies.

* When they get home, kids should decide what they want to eat, unwrap it without touching the edible part, wash their hands and then dig in.

* Wash hands.

* Wash hands.

* Wash hands.

Have a happy & healthy Halloween.

Ate crow & it wasn't very tasty

2009-10-25T09:47:00.002-04:00

I didn't realize it then, but when my nonna or mom would slave over a meal, the last thing I should have done was turn up my nose at it. This hurt look would cross their face & inevitably, there'd be talk along the lines of: "We had half an onion, half a potato & 3 beans...and that would last us THE ENTIRE DAY! We didn't have cannelloni. You kids today don't know what it is to be hungry!" And I'd listen to them drone on & on & on while I prepared myself a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Apparently, making PB&J after rejecting a home cooked meal is the quintessential insult. Then, I'd happily eat my sandwich while the remains of my meal - a labour of love - made it's way into a Tupperware container.

Fast forward 25 years or so... I poured all my heart and soul into an Irish stew last night. In addition to that, I baked fresh Irish soda bread with caraway seeds & all. This was served up while I beamed over the fact that I was serving my family a healthy & hearty supper. That's when they shot the arrow through my heart: "This looks like pooh. It's pooh stew. We won't eat pooh." *gasp* After a few gulps of Guinness & a slow count to 10 so I wouldn't say anything rash, I scraped up the remains of their meal into a Tupperware container while my husband told them, "When you're older, you'll appreciate these things that mommy makes for you."

This morning, I awoke bright & early thinking I'd bake some fresh muffins for breakfast. Oatmeal, eggs, sugar, flour...the whole shebang. They smelled divine. I felt like June Cleaver. Surely, no one could reject oatmeal chocolate chip muffins & some hot cocoa. It's the breakfast of angels. Right? RIGHT?!?! Wrong!!!! A few halfhearted nibbles & the pushing away of the plate was enough to reduce me to tears. To add insult to injury, I heard "We'd like some pane e nutella." A NUTELLA SANDWICH OVER MY HOMEMADE MUFFINS?!?! And so, my tirade began. "You have no idea how hard mommy has to work to make these things. You don't' appreciate anything I do for you, do you?! Maybe I shouldn't make anything for you anymore! You could eat Kraft dinner for ever & ever. How would you like that? Eh? Would that be nice?" Oh....yes...I sounded just like my mom & nonna, after a babel fish translation.

And so, 25+ years on... I regret ever having turned up my nose at the cannelloni, eggplant parmigiana, slow cooked sugo, polpettone & everything else that I wish my nonna would make if she were still alive today. Thankfully, I am redeeming myself with my mom. Anytime we have a meal at my parents' house, I savour every morsel. I appreciate the labour of love that is a home cooked meal.

School daze....how did I get here???

2009-09-07T14:42:00.005-04:00

The kids are excited. Clothing & shoes are labelled. Backpacks are packed. Lunch bags are ready. If everything is ready....then why am I not? I'm not ready for this. The start of this school year is weighing on me; making it feel like the start of a definitive new chapter in my life.

As much as last year was a biggie with daughter starting junior kindergarten, I found solace in the fact that son was still home with me. This feeling kept me going - until the other day. That's when the "OH NOOOOOOO! THEY'RE BOTH GOING TO SCHOOL THIS YEAR!" hit me hard.

These are my babies. It wasn't that long ago that I rocked them to sleep & sang them lullabies. Now, instead of rocking them to sleep, I allow a couple of "cuddle nights" per month. This is when I welcome them into bed so we can have a sleepover in mommy & daddy's room. Truth be told, it's more for my benefit than theirs...but they don't need to know that, do they?

There's a part of me that wants to keep them by my side forever & ever & ever. I'm a self-proclaimed sMOTHERer, but I'm trying to keep that instinct in check. The fact that son will have the same teacher that daughter had last year makes it a tad easier for me to let go, as it were. This teacher is a God-send! If you've ever tried to imagine the perfect teacher, this lady fits the bill: patient, understanding, welcoming, nurturing. Basically, she's everything that a nervous parent (who me???) needs when initiating their child into the education system.

And so, it is with optimism & a heavy heart that I will walk both my children to school tomorrow. I have my big, dark sunglasses for my solo-trek home. I may have to have a chocolate bar or a glass of wine...or, heck...maybe both! I will bake the "happy 1st day of school" cake for my children (an initiative I started last year). I will accept that my babies are growing up. And I will be okay.

Happy 1st day of school!

Snail tale

2009-07-25T22:11:00.002-04:00

The teeny weeny snail is responsible for a flood of memories. We were out for an evening walk & it had been raining all afternoon. The snails were out in full force, so it was our mission to try to avoid crunching them. My son couldn't understand why we shouldn't step on them because "they make a cracklish noise". Truth is, I have a soft spot for snails. They helped me to get revenge on a childhood friend.

My grandfather & I had an after-the-rain ritual of going out to a spot by the railroad to pick baskets full of snails. I'd line the baskets with damp leaves & grass, then transplant them to their new home. They'd hang around for a while, but eventually, after I'd been called in for dinner, the snails would have a pow-wow & make plans for evacuation. Obviously, by then time I'd be done dinner & make my way to the basket to check on them, they'd have made their way elsewhere. On the day I needed them to stick around (no pun intended), they understood their assignment & hung about until it was complete.

Tony C needed to be taught a lesson. See, his mother had purchased a pea-green 1980 Honda Hatchback. About a month later, my mom had purchased a horrible two-toned, brown & beige Pontiac Acadian. Tony accused my mom of copying his mom. I accused Tony's mom of being a slowpoke driver. Tony then said he wouldn't play with me anymore. Hmmph! Enter the snails.... To make my point about his mom being a slowpoke (and by no means did I think this was true - it was the only insult I could come up with at the tender age of 7), I decided to cover the C-family's Honda Civic in snails.

I got the reaction I wanted. I also got the responsibility of having to remove my passive pals from the family vehicle after word got out that I was the mastermind behind the stunt. Ashton Kutcher's got nothing on me.

Sleepy-time Sissy Steph

2009-05-18T21:46:00.002-04:00

A sissy is a person regarded as weak or cowardly. That just about sums up my disposition when it comes to sleep habits in my family.

As I type this, I currently have both my children in their respective rooms...sobbing...respectively. Why? Because I'm a sleepy-time sissy.

When they were teeny tiny babies, both posed problems with respect to sleep. One was colicky, while the other had GERD. In order to get some much-needed shut-eye, I'd let them sleep with me. As John Lennon once said, "Whatever gets you through the night"...and that quickly became my motto.

Fast forward to now & I think I've been way too lax. Getting the kids to sleep in their own beds is a constant battle of wills. Lately, their wills appear to be much stronger than my own. I've accommodated their whims: they lie down with me in my bed, I shuttle myself between all beds, they lie down on the sofa when it's not a school night until they conk out, etc. But tonight, I'm gonna win this. I don't care if I have to pop extra-ultra-mega-strength ibuprofen! I'm reclaiming my bed! And I'm not going to drag my sorry butt out of my toasty-warm haven at 3:34am when either child starts whining about needing me to lie down with them because they're having a dream about SpongeBob SquarePants (though I must confess to finding him rather creepy as well). Nope! I'm staying in my room. They'll have to cry it out. That's all there is to it. Finito.

Am I being mean? I feel mean. I'm not mean, am I?

They're still crying... In the amount of time it's taken me to type these paragraphs, they're still crying.

I'm not going to break my resolve. Mind you, it may be a different story if this continues on for another 2 hours. Well see...

Mamma Steph's Saturday-Night Pizzeria

2009-05-02T19:49:00.006-04:00

I blogged about crying over a piece of dough around Easter last year. It's happened again. I sobbed. Tears of joy streaming down my face. Joy abounds!

In the past few weeks, we've had earthquakes levelling towns in Abruzzo, the swine flu pandemic, a small earthquake in L.A., wildfires spreading in Halifax, and a few attempts by yours truly at homemade pizza dough which resulted in something similar to cardboard. Actually, I'm exaggerating a bit. My attempts tasted more like construction paper, with a hint of salt.

But then came The Sopranos Family Cookbook as compiled by Artie Bucco. Sounds like I'm putting you on, doesn't it? It's actually a decent reference point for traditional Italian cuisine. The zeppole in the Bobby Baccala section were to die for! So after sifting through recipes from Epicurious, Allrecipes, The Food Network & more, I picked up my Sopranos cookbook after quite the hiatus. Here's the recipe for the perfect homemade pizza dough, aka "Ah' Beetz'" adapted from Charmaine Bucco's section entitled, "Cooking for the whole famiglia":

"Ah' Beetz'"

1 envelope dry active yeast (or 2 1/2 tsp)
1 1/3 cups warm water (105 - 115 degrees F)
1 tsp sugar (not listed in the recipe, but my mom told me to do it, so I did!)
3 1/2 - 4 cups all purpose flour (I used 3 1/2)
2 tsp salt
2 tbsp olive oil (again, this wasn't called for in the recipe, but I added it anyway with great results)

In a bowl, stir together water & sugar. Sprinkle the yeast over the water & let it stand for 1 minute, or until the yeast is creamy. Stir until the yeast dissolves.

In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt. Add the yeast mixture & olive oil & stir until soft dough forms. It may not all come together, so I dumped it out onto a board & began kneading it all together. Knead the dough for 10 minutes or so - until becomes smooth & elastic.

Lightly coat a large bowl with olive oil. Place the dough in the bowl, turning it once to oil the top. Cover with a clean, damp dishtowel & place in a warm, draft free place. I like to set the oven the the lowest temp beforehand & then turn it off. This gives the oven enough warmth to allow the dough to rise. Leave it in the oven for 1 - 1/2 hours, until it doubles in volume.

Lightly grease a large pizza pan (I used the jellyroll-style pan). Punch down the dough in the bowl, then transfer to the pizza pan. Stretch out the dough, then loosely cover again with plastic wrap & let it rise for 1/2 an hour - 1 hour so that it becomes puffy.

Top with your favourite toppings. I like mine simple - fresh, homemade tomato sauce, fresh basil leaves, mozzarella di buffala or fior di latte (Santa Lucia brand is fantastic!!!).

Bake in an oven, preheated to 450 degrees C for about 20 minutes.

Enjoy!!!!

Sprinkle the yeast

Growing up too soon

2009-03-24T21:21:00.002-04:00

At 10pm, last night, I picked up a recorded message from my daughter's school principal. The news was bad. Not "Your daughter clocked a kid" kinda bad. This was indescribably bad. A student in the school had died & families were being advised that there would be grief counsellors at the school over the next few days. I told you in was indescribably bad.

I mulled this over in my head for a while. How do I explain what's happened to my children? Will I frighten them if I try to explain this first thing in the morning, before school? I decided to let it play out on its own. I didn't have enough information to deal with the situation properly. Did my daughter know the student? Was it someone in her class? Was it an accident that occurred at school? Was the child ill? So many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, so I let it be. I filed it under my "to dos", to be handled after I had contacted the school for more information.

The receptionist only told me that the young boy was in the 4th grade. It happened at school. A note would be sent home to advise us of when the memorial service would take place. I didn't have the heart to ask any further questions. I'd find a way to explain this with the information I had...once I got home from work.

I asked my daughter how her day went, prepared to discuss the loss of a fellow student, but she beat me to it. "Mommy, it was a sad day today. A boy in my school died. Mrs. Peacock told us & we had a special guest come to tell about the boy who died." Her eyes were wide & full of question. She looked as though she needed to hear that even though this poor child was taken away far too soon, that things would turn out okay. I wasn't quite prepared to tell her that & fluff it over. No, she had been exposed to the fragility of life & there was no going back. I held her close & prepared myself to deal with an onslaught of questions, but there was only silence.

I still remember the first time I was exposed to death. I was the same age as my daughter & my cousin, who was only a year older, had passed away. I remember the tears & uncertainty. That day, I grew up a little. I remember that feeling & wish so much that I could protect my children from it. Sadly, I cannot. All the bubble-wrap in the world won’t protect them from the hurts to come. All the camomile tea in the world won’t sedate me enough to make it through this part of parenthood unscathed.

And through all these emotions & questions, I send my prayers of comfort to a family who lost their little boy...friends who lost a buddy...a school that will always remember the time a shadow befell it, one tragic March day.

Zeppole Time!!!

2009-02-26T12:27:00.003-05:00

These months are renowned for the depressing weather & constant onslaught of snow, snow & more snow. Fortunately, we have the return of "zeppole"! The production of these tasty treats usually starts around the beginning of February & ends around the feast of St. Giuseppe on March 19th. Walk into any Italian bakery & chances are you'll see glorious trays full of zeppole.

The tradition started back in Sicily (or so I've been told). There had been a long & hard drought; farmers were at their wits' end with worry. With nothing more to do than pray, they pleaded to their patron Saint, San Giuseppe, to send them some rain. The prayers did not go unheard for it is said that the rains came along, quite heavily. In thanks, the people prepared a great feast, including zeppole, to honour St. Joseph. To this day, on the feast day - March 19th, zeppole are given as gifts, to be shared among friends & family. There are many markets in Naples that have street vendors frying their zeppole fresh, upon request. Yum!

The zeppole we know today are slightly more refined than those of the Sicilian farmers that prayed for rain. They're made of a bigne' pastry (or choux pastry), often filled with a custard cream or a cannoli filling that includes ricotta. The topping always involves a dusting of confectioner's sugar, a few dollops of cream, and "amarene" (tart, preserved cherries), or maraschinos. The pastries are either fried or baked. Everyone has their own preference. Mine? Custard cream & amarene with some of the amarene syrup! I don't care if it's fried or baked...just give my my zeppole!!!

That brings me to zeppole in the Vaughan region. Believe me when I tell you the trouble isn't in finding the zeppole - it's in selecting the place you trust to churn out the very best.

Where do you get your zeppole???

CityTV did a spot on Sweet Boutique about a year ago, claiming they sell "the best zeppole in the GTA". There are a few other places (some that may surprise you) that churn out some pretty decent zepps. Here's my shortlist:

Aida's Pine Valley Bakeryin Woodbridge
Centro Bakery Deli in Maple
St. Phillips Bakery, with locations in both Maple & Woodbridge
...and I'm going to have to do my zeppole research at Emily's Bakery in Woodbridge. I've never had their zeppole, but they have the most delectable breads in Vaughan, so I'm hoping the pastries fall in the same league.

Happy almost-San Giuseppe day! And if you have a recommendation for an awesome zeppole-experience, I'd love to hear about it.

What's in a name???

2008-12-26T12:06:00.004-05:00

I've been avoiding it for the past six years, but now it's time... I must renew my passport & while I'm at it, might as well take care of a few other documents. It's been playing on my mind ever since the ring made it's way onto my left hand... do I finally adopt my husband's surname or keep my beloved maiden name?

For all intents & purposes, I HAVE adopted my married name - just make things easy. Anywhere I go (my child's school, the doctor's office, the dentist, etc.), I"m referred to by my married name, but I clung on so desperately to my maiden name by keeping it on all my documents...except for one...my driver's licence. I must have been drunk when I went to renew - or in the throws of newly wedded bliss. I brought my marriage certificate & changed it legally to reflect my married status on the spot. But, rethinking the complexity of the official name change, I backed down on everything else.

Perhaps a part of me didn't want to change it. Why? Well, I've had my maiden name all of my life. From the moment my parents brought me home. At the same time, I'd like my kids know that mommy has the same surname as theirs & daddy's...in an official capacity.

You might now be asking, "So where does "Stephanie" come in???"

Enter Mrs. Fitali...St. Maurice, Junior Kindergarten. "STAY-FAY-NEE-UGH, you're name is much too difficult to say, so from now on, you'll be 'Stephanie'. I'm sending a note home to your parents.". And in my then-broken English, I said, "OH-KAI MEESUS FEE-TAH-LEE!"

That certainly didn't deter people from using my original Stefania. In fact, most of my close friends (paesani) will still call me Stefania or Stefa'. Others use Stephanie, but they're in the minority. And the majority will call me Steph (for that matter, Stef would work just fine too!!!).

So I could go back to Stefania, the name originally intended for me when mamma & papa brought me home, while the world still calls me "Steph/Stef" & all would be well in my world...except I still have to figure out my married name/maiden name dilema. Keep in mind, in Italy, women don't change their surnames when they marry... (YES, I'M FULLY AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I DON'T LIVE IN ITALY - I'M JUST SAYING, OKAY?!?!). I do, however, live in Canada & the same rule applies to Quebec. So...

I now face having to either change my driver's licence back to it's former state, or leave it as is & instead, change every other document to my married name. Bear in mind, that means I give up my original birth certificate & get a new one with my maiden name listed only as a nee. AND I'd have to get used to the new OHIP which has to be renewed every so often...whereas my old one is so uncomplicated!

I'm at a crossroads & I don't know which way to go...I'm very much waffling...can you show me the way??? We already had the debate over Christmas lunch & I left with an even bigger headache that what I started with. What would you do....and why???

I will keep you apprised of the situation...stay tuned!

Christmas spirit...of giving

2008-12-18T13:34:00.005-05:00

This time of year bothers me. Yes, I'm a bit of a Scrooge - but I'm a nice Scrooge. I don't dislike Christmas for any reason other than I think it's lost it's true meaning. Instead, it's become a mad dash for FRANTIC mall excursions. Ugh!!!

It took a 4-year old to show me the light...the one that's buried so deep beneath the tinsel & gift wrap that it's become quite dim.

A couple of months ago, my daughter brought home a letter from school outlining plans for a Christmas campaign. In it, parents were encouraged to reward their children with money for chores or good behaviour. At the end of a two week period, the child was to contribute their earnings to the "Gifts of Hope campaign through World Vision". My daughter was thrilled to be able to contribute $25.00. She told me that her class would be able to choose gifts for families in third-world countries - gifts like a cow, goats, clean water or books for school. She thought it was wonderful that she was helping children who weren't as fortunate as she is. My heart nearly burst from all the emotion I felt at that moment.

So this set the ball in motion... & I felt the Ebenezer-like quality slowly drain from my being. My family gathers together during Christmas & we exchange Kris Kringle gifts. We've grown so quickly that buying for all the extended family would literally break the bank. So, children continue to get gifts, but the adults get one Kris Kringle present. This year, I suggested that we forgo the gift exchange in favour of contributing what we would have spent on gifts to charity. Every family-member puts the name of their favourite charity in a hat & whomever's is drawn will receive the donation for that year. All this thanks to an idea from my daughter's school.

At the school assembly for the Christmas Sing-Along, my daughter & one of her fellow students had the privilege of presenting a cheque for just under $4500.00 to a representative from World Vision. She informed us that we had purchased a share in a well, a ger (winter shelter in Mongolia), dairy cows, goats, chickens & we had helped to educate girls in need. What an eye-opener. The things we take for granted...

Economically, things are tough. We hear about it in the news each & every day. Charitable donations have dwindled significantly this year. But really, what will I receive in a Kris Kringle gift that I absolutely need? And do I need this item more than a child needs shelter or water or medicine?

My family & I have learned a valuable lesson this season. Christmas is really & truly about giving - it's just a matter of rethinking the act of gift-giving & reconsidering the form that a gift takes - toy car vs. nourishment essential for survival. Once you've understood this, you've found the true spirit of Christmas.

I wish you & yours a joyful & blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas.

A gay ol' time

2008-11-28T09:35:00.004-05:00

Nothing ever really prepares you for the some of the questions that'll be thrown at you throughout the course of parenting your children. Today, I was confronted with a real doozy. I was asked to explain what "gay" means to my four (almost 5!) & three year olds. Oh dear.

My son & daughter were happily munching away on their blueberry Eggo Waffles when little brother ticked off little sister by informing her that it was his turn to watch Thomas the Tank Engine. She decided to hurl an insult back at him. I know she's not yet armed with an arsenal of witty comebacks like "you're momma dresses you funny". But she pulled one out of her hat & it came out like this: "oh yeah, well you're gay!" Hmmmm. Not good.

She refused to tell me where she picked up this this special little phrase. Certainly not in our home; we have many friends of varied cultural backgrounds & sexual orientation. It didn't come from us. I wanted to know who did it! I have an inkling...that horrible little kid who bit her arm last week. Must have been him. What angers me more is that she's in JK & only socializes with other JK students; one of them thinks it's okay to use the word "gay" in a derogatory manner - and his/her parents don't think it's necessary to correct this behaviour. Where's Nanny 911???

The inevitable happened.... "Mommy, what does gay mean? Why is it bad to tell someone they're gay?" Aw, c'mon!!! I haven't even finished my first coffee of the day yet. I didn't sign up for this. I thought we'd have this conversation toward the middle of elementary school, not now!

I used Ellen. Yes, I used Ellen DeGeneres. It went a little something like this: Well, gay is like saying you're white, black, Italian, Chinese, or straight. Mommy's gonna try to explain: Not all families are the same. Our family has a mommy & daddy as the parents; other families might have only one mommy or one daddy. Then there are other families that have two mommies or two daddies. Or sometimes a man & a woman love each other and don't have kids, right? Other times, two men or two women can love each other too. Then, there are other people who don't want to be with anyone & they like to be by themselves. All this was met with a blank stare. Okay, let's try this. Do you remember the Ellen show that we like to watch together? The one where we all dance around with Ellen? Eager nodding ensued. Okay, good. Well, Ellen is married to a lady instead of a man. And they love each other very much. So Ellen is gay. We like Ellen, don't we? She seems really nice & funny, right? She's normal, isn't she? She's not strange, right? .More nodding So, it's not nice to say to someone "You're gay" just to try to hurt their feelings, because there's nothing wrong with being gay. Okay? She nodded okay...as did my son, though I think this was thoroughly lost on him. They went back to their Eggos & I went to find myself a Valium.

Nothing sweet about it

2008-11-09T20:14:00.004-05:00

Sweet tables. They're a staple at Italian weddings & bridal showers. An event is incomplete without the very presence of a ginormous table covered with sickly sweet goodies, guaranteed to give you a stomach ache.

It used to be that the Italian mammas would spend hours lovingly preparing sweets to bring to the bridal showers of family members or close friends. These delicacies were put out for all to enjoy before lunch was served, and to accompany coffee & dessert after the meal. Nowadays, they're used more as "take-aways".

I arrived at a bridal shower today, eagerly eyeing the tasty concoctions that made up an enormous sweet-table. Unfortunately, said concoctions were all covered with plastic wrap or foil - so I realized I'd have to wait. Eventually, the meal was over & a member of the bridal party informed the ladies in attendance that plastic trays were provided so that everyone could take home SOME treats......AND THEY WERE OFF....such a display of gaucheness! Such a total disregard for the unspoken rules of the sweet-table!

Women nearly trampled each other vying for the prized first-spot at the sweet table. One woman lost her shoe. Another pushed her elderly mother out of the way to get third-place in line. Utter mayhem! I, on the other hand, sat calmly at my table, sipping my espresso & chuckling smugly. I would wait. There was plenty to go around. Right? Right???

Half an hour later, I went to collect my tray... and was able to get my hands on five cookies. FIVE COOKIES! And one of them was broken - or perhaps someone had taken a bite out of it; I'm not certain. Here's where the rules come in:

1. Never butt-in. Wait your turn, or you may have your arm severed by a woman eager to chow down on an amaretto cookie...or two...or more.
2. Do not bring your own Tupperware container - it's just tacky.
3. One tray per person, ladies! No one wants to hear the excuse about you making an additional three trays for your mother, sister-in-law & canary. Stop being greedy - there are other women waiting their turn (and I was one of them!!!)
4. Do not fill your tray to bursting - you MUST be able to close it. Not doing so will result in you looking like a pig.
5. Acknowledge that this is a gift. It is NOT your RIGHT to bring home a tray of cookies, so quit being so indignant about not getting the six almond crescent cookies you were eyeing since before lunch. Tough luck, someone else got them.

In sickness & in hell

2008-10-29T03:45:00.004-04:00

Hell. No better way to describe an emergency room triage after midnight. Hell. On. Earth. It has to be one of the saddest places on the planet.

Being the paranoid mamma I try hard not to be, I couldn't help but drag my daughter to emergency tonight after day 4 of ongoing fever/cough/congestion. Yes, I was told it was a virus & the fever could last up to three days... Well, 24 hours above & beyond were enough for me to grab our coats, a bottle of juice, some storybooks & hot-foot it to the hospital at 11:30pm.

...But first, I had to scrape snow off the car... It's October. This is unnatural. But I digress...

Everyone looks forlorn in the triage. Even the Jonas-Brothers-lookalike-greeter tried hard to look cheerful & welcoming but fell quite short of the mark. Some are truly desperate, while others attempt a sickly expression in the hopes they'll be looked after sooner than later.

My baby was a trouper, though. She even stood super-still during X-rays. It helped that I turned it into a game of "Freeze". When her "special pictures" were done, the technician gave her a an old, curled up sticker. I've never seen a kid so excited about a kitty in a field of daffodils, circa 1976.

So pneumonia was ruled out (thankfully!!!), but bronchitis is no walk in the park. She's doing okay, though. Worst part about all of this? Coming home to find my little boy coughing the same cough & running a temperature.

Here we go again....

Alone again...naturally

2008-10-24T14:04:00.004-04:00

I'm here to offer my respect & marvel at the sheer force of will of single parents far & wide. Never did I stop to ponder how difficult it must be to raise children all on your own. I've always been fortunate enough to have my husband share the responsibility of parenting. Last week, however, I had a taste of what it's like to go solo...and it left a rather bitter taste in my mouth.

How do they do it??? How do they juggle raising children, going to work, and somehow finding time to go to the bathroom?!? I'm sincerely in awe because by day number 5, I had a piercing pain behind my left eyeball & my mouth was filled with 4 cold sores (just my body's reaction to stress). Could I do this again? I suppose I could, but I'd certainly make a few changes.

I'll probably forget that I had reached the point where I was pulling out my hair, so I'm devising a survival guide - if ever my husband has to go on another business trip:

1. Don't be afraid to ask for help - parents, friends, neighbours - just ASK! My problem is that I have this martyr complex. I run myself ragged, then throw a pity party. Not a good idea. Going forward, when necessary, I'll ask for help.

2. Set priorities. It's all good trying to be St. Stephanie, patron saint of supermammas, but it isn't really necessary to make homemade play dough when there are mountains of laundry to be tackled. Pick & choose the most essential items on the "to do" list & go from there.

3. Recharge your battery. Whether it's an hour in the morning, or an hour once the kids are asleep, take some time to decompress. This should not involve watching reality TV or bad dramas (did someone say 90210?!?!). Just sit & relax...preferably with a nice, hot cup of tea or a glass (yes, just one...responsible parenting folks!) of good wine.

That's all I can think of. For now. Any other suggestions for coping would be greatly appreciated. In the meantime, I'll count my blessings that hubby's back & I think, tonight, I'll go for a walk. Alone. Naturally.

Costume Craze

2008-10-15T20:16:00.004-04:00

It's ridiculous, really. The amount of money we spend on our children's Halloween costumes is criminal when you stop to consider that they'll wear them only a handful of times. It's one thing when the child is whining & carrying on to the point where shop clerks are ready to call mall security. It's quite another when the so-called responsible parents are fighting over the last Cinderella costume at the Disney Store.

My question is this: whatever happened to making Halloween costumes? We used to get creative & come up with truly one-of-a-kind get ups that matched no other. Why are we suddenly so keen to spend $50 and up on an outfit that's usually used for a few hours &, more often than not, covered up by a parka (good ol' Ontarian weather at the end of October!)?

It's almost taboo to say mom or dad made your costume, isn't it? But I recall a time when purchasing a costume meant wearing one of those horrid masks that made you sound like Darth Vader & had tiny little cutouts for eyes. And THAT was meant to be upscale Halloween gear!!!

I recall one year...I was seven or eight years old...and I had just recovered from either chicken pox or mumps. Hmmm, or perhaps it was flu. Regardless - I had forgotten all about Halloween. That evening, Tony Cacciola & Nicky Battista showed up at my house, ready to go trick-or-treating. To my utter dismay, I didn't have a costume. Quick as a whip, however, my mother assembled a makeshift costume out of a burlap sac, a length of rope, someone's cane, a fake bird (taken from some God-awful flower arrangement), and tin foil. Right before Tony & Nicky's eyes, I transformed into St. Francis of Assisi. Oh yes, bird perched on my shoulder & staff (well, cane!) in hand. Original? Oh yeah!

Could you imagine some poor kid showing up as St. Francis of Assisi nowadays? Hardly likely. Things are too easy - too convenient. And yet, I can't help but surf the Indigo website & pick up my children's costumes online, only to have them shipped straight to my door. Bad on me.

Happy Halloween everyone.

Germ-o-rama

2008-09-20T21:34:00.004-04:00

'Tis the season, I suppose. With my daughter having started JK this year, I expected the odd virus, but not to this degree! Yes, many a parent had warned me that the first year was filled with plenty of trips to the pediatrician and I half expected it. This, however, is bordering on the ridiculous!

Last week, we recovered from a nasty bout of stomach flu. We didn't take it too well in light of all the media coverage about the listeriosis outbreak. We wracked out brains trying to figure out if we had unsuspectingly eaten something that might have been contaminated. Well, some things you just can't avoid.

Croup, on the other hand, is a whole other story. As I write this while lying next to my two-year-old son, I am seething with anger. I know exactly where he & my daughter contracted their croup...from my daughter's kindergarten class. Yup, from a boy who shall remain nameless. His mother, however...well, if it were up to me, I'd publish her name, number & address for her violation of the unspoken responsible-parenting rule.

I met up with "that woman" on Thursday as we were picking up our children from school & she mentioned that her three children were all battling croup - INCLUDING HER SON WHO HAPPENED TO BE IN MY DAUGHTER'S CLASSROOM!!! But she figured he was active, so sending him to school wasn't a big deal. Hmph! It's a bloody big deal to me! I'm running between both children's rooms to ensure they're breathing okay - running hot showers to steam up the bathroom - dressing up at 3am to get some cool night air - anything but resting. Gah! Her ignorance is appalling!!!

As a result of Mrs. Germspreader's disregard for her son's peers, it turns out we'll be missing my parents' 45th wedding anniversary celebration tomorrow. My nieces & nephews will be present & the last thing I want to do is be responsible for having my children spread their croup-bugs around.

So please please please do not send your children to school if they are ill. I won't begrudge you if you send them off with a runny nose but croup is not okay. It really isn't something you should knowingly spread around.

Listeria Hysteria

2008-08-27T12:41:00.005-04:00

And really, should we be blamed for being hysterically paranoid about the tainted meat recall from Maple Leaf Foods? Since the "scandal" broke out in the news, I have been wracking my brain to recall whether my family has consumed any of the recalled & voluntary recalled products. The only thing I can think of is a pizza luncheon that was part of a summer-fun rewards program at work. Did I eat the pepperoni pizza? Oh dear.

At the slightest hint of nausea last night...and other gastrointestinal symptoms that I won't mention here, I became near hysterical. Faster than lightening, I was on my laptop trying to get more information, but sadly the offerings came up short. With 29 cases being conclusively linked as of today, and an additional 30 under investigation, it's enough to make me swear off even smelling pepperoni for the rest of my life! This sort of reporting, however, is creating a state of panic. The facts need to be put out there: Who is likely to be most affected by listeria, what is the likelihood that treatment will succeed in curing the ailment, what percentage of people who contract listeria recover fully? We're focusing on the most negative statistics, and although we need that information, we also require the more optimistic facts. Please please please put those out there for the nervous nellies like me!

As for the blind trust we've always put into the likes of Maple Leaf Meats/Schneiders, well I'll certainly think twice before buying any of those products again. If you visit the JM Schneider website, you'll see that "J.M. wouldn’t make or sell anything he wouldn’t be proud to serve to his own family. He insisted on using only the finest cuts of meat, trimmed by hand, and natural spices and seasonings. He believed in craftsmanship and followed time-honoured recipes using traditional methods " Hmmmm...it looks like someone wasn't taking ol' man Schneider's insistance very seriously & fell asleep at the wheel. However, I'll take Mr. Schneider's advice & I will purchase only the finest cuts of meat, season them myself & server THOSE to my family. In a pinch, forget that processed stuff...it'll be all-natural peanut-butter-jelly-time.

My sincere condolences to those who have been affected by this horrible situation. I wish the rest of you good health.

Back to school blues

2008-08-21T16:41:00.004-04:00

It's more like "starting school for the first time blues". This is the day I've been dreading for just over four years - the day my baby girl goes to junior kindergarten. My heart breaks just thinking of it! Oh yes, I hear you hollering at me to get a grip & keep it together. Hah! Easier said than done, my friend. How can I possible get a grip when I've always kept my children perfectly coddled in my little cocoon? How in the world am I supposed to drop her off & say goodbye without a wavering voice and eyes brimming with tears? How??? There must be some sort of prescription med out there that'll do the trick. (Note to self: investigate prescription meds for moms of children going to school for first time.)

She's ready to go to school. She's been ready & willing for a while now. I'm the one who's kept her close - allowing her only a ballet class & a community centre art class. Those were tough enough on my fragile nature - allowing my child to attend a class ALONE for a full 45 minutes! They didn't even allow me the courtesy of a peep hole so I could have a gander from time to time at how she was doing.

Oh this is torture! Maybe a nanny-cam....yeah...that might do the trick. Or I could send her to school with a wire-tap. Yeah, I could be onto something there.

I've got to snap out of this. She's doing what so many other children will do, have done, and will continue to do - go to school. And I will learn to deal with it. In the meantime, I'll try to prepare myself so when it's my son's turn next September, I won't be quite so close to a nervous breakdown.

Wish me...uh...her luck.

My not-so-secret Rum Cake recipe

2008-08-14T15:03:00.003-04:00

It's perfect...well, at least according to me & my dad. He's put in an order for rum cake for his 70th birthday. Honoured? Hell yeah, baby! Who knows, I may even open up a rum-cake kiosk. Okay, that's pushing it. So, a promise is a promise. I agreed to post my rum cake recipe when I felt it was good enough to post & here I am. Before I begin, I'd like to preface it by informing you that it's time-consuming & ever-so-slightly nerve wracking. But please don't let that discourage you, for once you sink your teeth into this delicacy, you'll realize the reward was well worth it.

Steph's Rum Cake Extraordinnaire

Part 1 - Sponge Cake (taken from my mom's recipe)
12 large eggs
2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil (I use canola!)
rind of 1 lemon
8 teaspoons baking powder (I know it seems excessive)
2 cup sifted flour

Preheat oven to 350 degrees celcius. Beat together eggs, sugar, oil, lemon rind & 4 teaspoons of baking powder & mix well. By hand, stir in the flour & remaining baking powder. Pour into greased & floured pans (8 or 9") & bake for 45 mins to 1 hour (until a cake tester comes out clean). Allow to cool completely before removing from pans.

Part 2 - The Rum Syrup
1/2 cup rum
1/3 cup water
1/2 cup sugar

Note: If you like things to be a bit more rummy, be more generous with the alcohol.

Mix together all ingredients in small pot & bring to a boil. Stir continuously until all the sugar is disolved. Set aside to cool completely.

Part 3 - "La Crema" aka the pastry cream
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
3 egg yolks
3 tablespoons flour
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups whole milk
1 tablespoon butter
2 oz. baking chocolate (grated)

Note: I make two batches - one with the chocolate & one without because a traditional rum cake has a layer of each. You'll be left with some pastry cream, but scooping it up & indulging is part of the fun!!!

Place sugar, egg yolks, flour & vanilla in saucepan & mix well. In separate saucepan, scald the milk. Very slowly, pour milk over yolk mixture & beat constantly with beater or wire whisk. If making "chocolate crema", add the grated chocolate at this point. Continue cooking on low heat with a wooden spoon until boiling point. Then continue cooking for 3-4 minutes longer. Remove from heat &
stir in butter. Pour into bowl & press plastic wrap over top. Chill for 3-4 hours in refridgerator.

Part 4 - The icing on the cake
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1/4 - 1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Note: I use a whipped cream frosting becuase it's light. Some people prefer to use a gelatin/whipped cream method. My advice is to go with whatever floats your boat.

In small bowl, beat cream, sugar & vanilla with electric beater until stiff peaks form. Makes about 4 cups. Chill until ready to use.

Let's assemble this thing...
Once you've turned the cakes out of their pans, slice each in half so that you have 4 pieces. Place the first slab on a serving platter. Using a skewer or toothpick, poke holes all over the slab of cake, then begin to sprinkle it with the rum mixture. Use a spoon so that you don't oversaturate the cake. Allow it to soak in for a few minutes. Spread the crema over top (if you're using vanilla & chocolate, I use chocoalte on the first layer). Place another slab of cake on top of the crema. Repeat the same process (poke holes, sprinkle with rum), then top with vanilla crema. Repeat process again, so you're alternating the creama. Once you have the last layer on the cake (do not sprinkle the last layer with rum!!!), cover it with the icing. To make the cake truly authentic, you'll want to decorate the sides with slivered almonds or hazelnuts (I much prefer hazelnuts). Let it sit in teh refridgerator for a few hours. If you can make the cake a day in advance, all the better! The flavours will blend & the rum will soak through the cake. You'll be left with a little piece of rum-cake nirvana.

Good luck with the recipe...and enjoy!

Pump up the jam...

2008-07-14T20:29:00.002-04:00

Let me tell you how much I love this time of year... I LOVE IT! I love love love those juicy, fragrant little specimens we've come to know as strawberries. MMmmmmm strawberries - fragole - fresas - erdbeeren - morangos - Doesn't matter how you say it, they're sooooo yummy.

I've always made it a point to go strawberry picking toward the last week of June. Even as a teen, when most were way too cool to pick fruit out in the country, I'd put together a yearly excursion. More often than not, I'd only get one or two true-blue friends who only came along because they didn't want me to feel like a lonely berry-picking loser. I admit it, though - picking berries at 17 is kind of geeky.

Geeky or not, I still maintain the tradition. Now, however, my children outdo my level of excitement. "We're going berry picking" is met with whoops & clapping & jumping. Love it! I asked my parents to join my family this year at Applewood Farms in Stouffville & I can honestly say I felt truly happy. There's nothing like sitting in a strawberry field, surrounded by your family, with your mouth full of those sweet, luscious berries.

With our baskets & bellies full, we made our way home. While everyone snoozed around me, I went on to make jam. Am I nuts? No. I find it so rewarding & relaxing. Plus, there's nothing that comes even close to the quality of my jam on any grocery shelf. I hope I don't sound like a jam & jelly snob, but my preserves rock! Can't wait till peach season. Winona peach fest, here I come!!!

Italian Rum Cake...old skool style!

2008-07-08T20:39:00.005-04:00

How proud am I of my rum cake? From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I still tingle when I think of my rum cake.

When I get an idea stuck in my head, there's no shaking it. My idea was to make an old-school Italian cake. Chalk it up to a nostalgic feeling anytime a celebration rolls around. We had some rum cake at my brother-in-law's graduation. It was okay. So-so. It wasn't mind-blowing. Just "meh". Somehow, rum cake in the 70's & 80's always tasted divine and I decided to make it my mission to recreate the perfect cake.

I didn't appreciate it when I was a 7 yr-old & all the other kids had their cherry Duncan Hines cakes topped with fluffy vanilla frosting & multicoloured sprinkles. It embarrassed me to have agigantic, ethnic delicacy... sprinkled with slivered nuts & spun sugar from Uniti Bakery in Etobicoke (needless to say, Uniti is long gone...so sad). Let's face it, anyone under 15 will not appreciate a cake loaded with rum. But that's the way it was back then for a young Italian kid. Rum cake. Take it or leave it.

How I miss Uniti Bakery rum cake.

So I took bits and pieces of recipes I found on the internet & in my mom's recipe box. See, a rum cake can't be divine unless it is made with the perfect "pan di spagna" (that's a sponge cake) and my mom's pan di spagna is out of this world! There's a story behind it as well...but I'll save that for another time. End result, the cake was delish! Oh so so so good! I had it for breakfast, lunch, dinner & dessert. I'm going to have to refrain from posting the recipe, however. Nope, it's not quite ready yet. I still have to work out a slight kink in the chocolate custard portion of the recipe. I promise to post it later. Cross my heart.

To Sir or Miss with love....

2008-06-26T22:31:00.003-04:00

Those schoolgirl days, of telling tales and biting nails are gone,
But in my mind,
I know they will still live on and on,
But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?
It isn't easy, but I'll try... (Lulu)

It is only fitting to dedicate this blog to teachers, what with today & tomorrow being the last day of school for most students. For some, it means the last step in their formal education. And though there's so much to say about the last day of school, I think it's most important to recognize all the hard work that our educators put into the school year. What better way to do this that to write them a letter. I'll dedicate this letter to all my teachers...so many to mention....but here are a few: Ms. Fitalli (who taught me to speak English!), Ms. Docherty (who taught me that individuality is cool), Ms. Paul (who taught me perseverance), Mrs. Murphy (who taught me about compassion and kindness and instilled in me a love of literature), and all the other teachers who helped to shape me into who I am to day. Here's my letter to you:

Dear Teachers,

I am taking this opportunity to thank you for all that you've done for me. In the past, I came to you when I fell off a snowbank & ended up with a bleeding nose. I came to you when I pretended that my family was moving to Italy so that you'd throw me a class party. I came to you later to confess that I wasn't going to Italy & to apologize for making you throw me a class party. I came to you to let you know that I thought you were being hard on me in class. I sat in detention with you when you told me that I was being disruptive. I came to you to show you my latest attempt at creative writing. And each and every time, you gave me your full attention. Thank you.

I'm not sure you realize what an impact you've had on my life. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but I remember you. I remember you well. I can name all your names, though not your given name. Teachers aren't supposed to have a given name. Even though you insist, twenty years later, that I should call you Ralph, I simply cannot.

Sometimes, I even remember the fragrance you wore... If I'm walking by someone or something & I smell a certain scent, it'll take me back to your classroom. That's how much a part of my life you are.

I knew I could depend on you. Each and everyday, I'd head over to your classroom, and there you'd be - rain or shine. And, being only human, there was the odd day when you wouldn't be there. The class would whoop & clap at the thought of having a poor ol' supply teacher. I feigned delight as well, but it was unsettling not having you there. In other words, I knew I could count on you.

You taught me respect by showing me respect. One of you really went the extra mile by coming to my house to tutor me when I had been ill & hospitalized. You were my eighth grade teacher, and I was in high school. Because I had missed nearly a month of class, I was failing math. When you'd heard though the grapevine that I hadn't been well, you contacted me & my family, offering your help. You did this on your own time - taking time away from your family twice a week until you knew I'd pass my subject and you refused any sort of payment. Wow! You were so proud of me when I passed that class. At the time, I didn't understand why you were making such a big deal. I see now that it gave you a sense of pride and accomplishment. I'm grateful for this. Thank you so much, Mrs. Murphy. I will never forget you.

So, dear teacher, I'm so glad we met. I hope you accept my thanks and sincere gratitude. You're part of a special bunch of people... often berated, but not always appreciated. Ah, but I appreciate you. I really do. And I hope you have a good summer off...you deserve it.

Much love & respect,

Stephanie

Sucks in the City

2008-06-14T09:23:00.003-04:00

How can I possibly express my disappointment? HOW!?!? There we sat - friends from waaaay waaaay back, crying and laughing. We had been planning this "movie event" for a month. My husband was watching our kids. My friends had made arrangements for their children and husbands. WE WERE READY FOR SEX IN THE CITY! Wooooo hooooooo!

Sex And The City is more a bonding experience between friends than it is a movie going experience. Most women would agree with this statement. So there we sat, having the ultimate bonding & movie experience that can be shared between close female friends. Bellinis were most definitely to follow. I mean, come on! How could we not go for a drink that ends with "ini" after watching Sex In The City?

With only ten minutes left in the movie, we were still laughing and drying our eyes. The questions were plenty....mainly....WHAT HAPPENS TO ALL OF THEM?!?! The anticipation was more than I could bare. It was electric. Mara, Vicky, Vivian & I looked at each other expectantly - "does it end well????" - and then IT happened:

"Ladies & gentlemen, due to turbulent weather (yep, the boner used the word "turbulent" as though he were an airline pilot!), we are experiencing a power outage. Please remain in your seats until we are able to resume your film."

Ummmmmm okay. No problem. Thank GOD they'll resume our movie. I mean, it would be BRUTAL if they sent us home with a big, fat question mark, right? But holy-moly, this movie is just aaaaawesome! Oooooh I'm soooo glad I'm here with my great friends. This rocks! Wait wait wait....theatre-man is about to make another announcement:

"Ladies & gentlemen, this is the fire safety director (hey, why didn't he say that the first time when he sounded like a pilot?!). You are all asked to evacuate the building. We we are experiencing fire & safety issues (oh, so he suddenly became the director of these issues. I see!). Please exit your theatre & proceed to the exit door."

HUH?! WHAT?! So....that's it??? WHAT HAPPENS!?!? Bloody Queensway cinema! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!!!

Something old, something new....

2008-06-03T19:17:00.003-04:00

It's not every day that your children tell you they want to marry you once they grow up. It's sweet & unsettling all at the same time.

As we drove to the grocery store for sushi (yes, my children eat California rolls - no avocado for the girl - extra avocado for the boy!), my daughter professed her love for me & my husband, assuring us that she will marry us once she's older. My son, not one to be left out, piped in with a big "ME TOO, MOMMY! I MARRY YOU & DADDY TOO, OKAY?". Hmmmmm....

Don't get me wrong, I have toyed around with the idea of secretly crashing potential honeymoons & dividing my time between my children's homes when I'm old & gray. I'm not sure the "significant others" would be so keen on the idea. For that matter, I'm not sure how my children will take the news that "MAMMA'S MOVIN' IN, KIDDIES! YEEEE-HAAAAW!".

I suppose it's normal, though (no, not my need to leach on to my children for ever & ever amen). I remember wanting to marry my parents when I was little. At that tender age, all you know is the unconditional love of your mommy & daddy. Can it possibly get any better than that? I mean, even when my son proclaims with pouty lip, "I not you friend, mommy - no look at me an' no talk to me, okay?", I still attempt to envelope him in my arms & smother him with kisses. Unconditional love. It's no wonder they want to marry us....it's the kind of love we strive for in every relationship we have. Pure. Sweet. Love.

Maybe I will marry them...by having them build an in-law suite for me. (tee hee)

MammaSteph in Wonderland...

2008-05-31T21:04:00.004-04:00

It's that time of year again! Time to battle the crowds, wait in endless line-ups, pay five dollars for a bottle of water, and try darn hard to scrub Scooby Doo off my hand before heading in to work the next day. Yes, my friends, Wonderland is officially open for business.

I love love love Wonderland. I've been through those gates countless times, and yet, I still get a rush when I get past security & into the park. Perhaps it's just the amusement park atmosphere in general...or the mere fact that, when all's said & done, I'm a big kid at heart.

Only one thing thew me off on our latest visit. And let this be a lesson to anyone who reads this: There are times when the right thing to do is offer to pay for drycleaning. Here's an example of when you should do this:

Hubby, kids & I were waiting in line for the Taxi Jam ride (a roller-coaster for kiddies...but soooo much fun for adults too!). As often happens in long line-ups, we developed a camraderie with our fellow riders. Niceties were exchanged along with a few laughs....and then IT happened. At first, I didn't know what that splattering sound was, but once the shrieks of disgust followed, I soon realized that a young child had lost his lunch...ALL OVER THREE PEOPLE IN LINE. Yes, eeew! Double-ewwww. The eeewiest thing about it, however, is that fact that the parents of the upchucker didn't even have the decency to turn to the victims of splatter to apologize. Huh?!?!! Apologize, for crying out loud! One lady had to remove her sweater - totally unwearable - and probably had to cut her trip short. It was, afterall, a chilly night. I suggested she visit a giftshop to purchase a hoodie. But don't you think it would have been nice of the parents of the child to offer a ten or a twenty for cleaning or to put toward purchasing a sweater? Okay, granted not everyone can just throw twenties around. Understood. But, at the very least, turn these innocent bystanders & offer a sincere apology. Ugh! That behaviour, more than the regurgitation-fest, was the most disgusting part of the whole incident.

Obliteration of the blackboard...

2008-05-17T15:03:00.003-04:00

It's back-to-school for me. Oh, not as a full-time student, no no no. I've taken it upon myself to "étudier le français". It's a weekly three-hour lesson, and I must say, I'm pretty excited about it.

School isn't what it used to be, however. Keep in mind that I haven't been in school for over 14 years (yikes!). Back in the old days, we couldn't register online because the Internet wasn't so widely used. Now that you've got some background, I'll proceed to explain just how I ended up with oeuf on my visage.

Mme Bellair told us outright that we'd have homework each week. Fine, no problem. She also mentioned that such homework would be posted on the BLACKBOARD for all of us to review. Fine, no problem. She then proceeded to continue with the lesson. Fine, no problem.

I sat there, with my notebook & pen (though it felt more like I was holding a stone tablet & chisel...HELLO OLD LADY!) & waited for her to put the homework up on the board. With only twenty minutes remaining in the class, I finally piped up to figure out when this assignment would be outlined on the blackboard. She kindly explained that I should "check back tomorrow, Stephanie". Hmmmmm....Not fine, big problem....I only attend classes on Wednesday. "Uh, Mme Bellair, how am I supposed to check back tomorrow if I'm not at school on Thursday? Can't you just put it up there now?"

Ready for the oeuf? Here it comes...

"Mais non, Stephanie! You LOG ON to your BLACKBOARD ONLINE and I'll post all assignments there. You DO know how to use the Internet, don't you?" EHEM...MAIS OUI!

So there you have it.... Now where oh where did I put my reading glasses and dentures?

Mother's Day Mania

2008-05-09T12:58:00.003-04:00

Don't get me wrong; I like Mother's Day just as much as the next mom. It's just that thinking of the day itself gives me a migraine. And indigestion. And sometimes I break out into a rash. Other than that, I love Mother's Day. Truly.

Perhaps we make too much of a day created by the lovely folks at Hallmark & Carlton. We've come to expect so much. Okay, I'll eliminate the "we" & turn it into an "I". Not fair for me to speak on your behalf, is it? Sorry.

I've come to expect too much. Those damn commercials with happy moms (who apparently wake up with make-up perfectly intact & not a hair out of place!) being brought breakfast in bed or rushing to get ready for their dinner reservations while putting on their new diamond earrings (a gift for only the most deserving of moms, I might add) won't go away! Why oh why do I fall pray to the wizards of advertising? I'm not a shallow person...not always.

The reality of Mother's Day for me is zooming from place to place, trying to accomplish the mother's day visits owed to our own moms (the deserve it, after all), while trying to to be too disruptive of my children's schedules (meals need to be ingested & naps taken) & perhaps trying to get in some time for myself as well. I'm a mom too, you know!

This manic feeling isn't exclusive only to Mother's Day. I should be fair here. I also tend to develop an ulcer around Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas & Easter. Days that conjure up images of laughter, food & comfort tend to give me a severe pain on the left side of my head & stabbing pangs in my stomach as though I'm being impaled.

That being said, maybe it'll be different this year. Never say never, right? Manic or simply serene, I wish all mammas a blissfully happy (or bearable) Mother's Day. After all, you deserve it!

Is it really the "better way"???

2008-04-26T12:49:00.003-04:00

The news upset me this morning. Just yesterday, I hopped on the TTC to get to a meeting downtown. You'd think I might have been able to foresee today's crushing strike just by looking at the driver's face. I'm trying to think back to how he smiled at me when I asked for a transfer. Was it a sincere "here you go" kinda smile? Or was it more a "you don't know what's gonna hit your tomorrow" smile? Hmmm...I'm not sure.

I'm not a regular rider. I live in York Region, so if I'm going to be taking public transit, it'll be a VIVA Bus. TTC is wanting to make sure that they're the highest paid transit facility. One of their biggest beefs is that Mississauga transit pays more. SO GO WORK FOR MISSISSAUGA TRANSIT...GET OFF YER BUTTS & GET BACK TO WORK!!! Sorry, lost my cool for a second. But I'm mad! Take some of the $2.75 I had to use for fare & divide it amongst yourselves & shut up about it already! That's right...it's nearly three dollars to ride the rocket nowadays. Bah!

I'm angry because this affects my grandfather in a most crippling way. He'll be 94 years old this May. One of the things that keeps him young is getting on the TTC Mondays through Saturdays & heading down to the St. Clair area to meet up with his pals for some bocce & card games. He doesn't drive & has relied on public transportation all his life. Guess he's out of luck...along with the rest of the city!

One thing's for sure: In the midst of this transit crisis, I sure am glad I live & work in York Region.

My mom & dad....they're the cat's pyjamas!

2008-04-17T19:18:00.006-04:00

I can't tell you how proud I am! My mom & dad are heading over to their local OSPCA (Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) to adopt a cat tomorrow. See the cutie in the pic? Her name is Angel & if all goes well, she'll join our extended family. I suppose it's not such a big deal to some, but you have to understand the background with my parents.

My mom & dad are Italian immigrants from a teeny weeny little town in Italy where the sheep outnumber the people. Pets were really never kept, so when I brought home a kitten in my teen years, it was simply NOT okay. Slowly but surely, however, mom & dad appreciated having a pet around.

It's been a few years since they've heard the pitter patter of little paws in their house, so they asked me to find out if there was any way for them to become the proud owners of a kitty cat without having to go through a pet store (especially with all those stories about about how they're bred & kept!). I turned to our own kitten's vet who referred us to the OSPCA.

By adopting an animal from the SPCA, everybody wins. Those animals desperately need a loving home, so why not provide one? From a financial standpoint, you actually do your wallet a favour by adopting from the SPCA, though that shouldn't really be your primary concern here. Your pet will have up to date immunizations & will be either spayed or neutered, and all for the small price of $115.00! I have a kitten that was adopted as a result of a friend of a friend's pet having a litter of kittens. My "free" kitten ended up costing me close to $500.00. Mind you, I would have paid 10 times that for my adorable little Chancho!

So my parents are doing me proud: They're opening their minds to a concept that was totally foreign to them only a short while ago. They'll be providing a nurturing environment for a needy cat...wow! You've come a long way, baby!

Ma petite Sophie

2008-04-02T20:56:00.004-04:00

I've fallen head over heels for a giraffe. What has become of my life?!?! A RUBBER GIRAFFE, I TELL YOU!

I've had my eye on Sophie for over a year now when I spotted her on the Cheeky Monkey website. And what's not to like? Amidst the frenzy about buying products that are lead-free, non-toxic, bisphenol-A-free, made only by Oompa-Loompas (okay, I added that one in for effect), Sophie is as pure as the driven snow. She made her debut in 1961, made of natural rubber (phtalate-free) & non-toxic paint. Oh, and the creme de la creme is that she's made in France. How very shi-shi, n'est pas?

By the time I developed a serious crush on that gorgeous rubber giraffe, both my children had screamed & chewed their way through the worst of their teething. There was really no justifiable reason for me to bring Sophie home without prompting more than a few raised eyebrows.... So I've admired her from afar.

Today, I finally found a reason to use my MasterCard to bring Sophie into my life, if only for a brief moment. Sophie will bring my good friend's daughter endless hours of comfort and joy. I can't wait to give it to her! She'll love it! I love it! Hmmmm.... Maybe she'd get just as much comfort & enjoyment from a bottle of gripe water. I might have to reconsider gifting ma chere Sophie.

MammaSteph's Easter braided bready egg thing that's sort of sweet but not really...

2008-03-17T21:11:00.009-04:00

Have you ever seen a woman cry over a pile of dough? I mean real dough...not the paper stuff we use to make purchases. Yesterday I cried. I cried over a pile of dough. I was so happy to see my dough had doubled in size and I cried!

My one failed attempt at making Easter bread almost caused me to throw in the towel...and the flour, eggs, milk, etc. Instead of using the dry active yeast (the stinky brown one), I decided to try the fancy Italian yeast that smells like vanilla & cherubs. It flopped. Literally. Not only did my dough not rise, it actually shrunk. Thank God for the green bin.

I had set my sights on making my very own braided Easter ring this year. In our family, we call it "la treccia di Pasqua" (the Easter braid). It's dotted with hand-dyed eggs & it's the piece de resistence at any Easter gathering. My grandmother used to make her traditional Easter bread every year; we call it "cuculozz'", but I haven't been able to find anything remotely similar on the net. I know my great-aunt has the recipe, so I must make an effort to obtain it sometime soon. My mom, on the other hand, specializes in a savoury Easter bread from south-central Italy known as sciadone (or fiadone) . So the time had come for me to master my very own Easter bread. I had to get this right!

I followed Nonna Lina's recipe to the "T". For the record, my nonnas' names were Angelina & Maria-Antonia. I don't know Nonna Lina. My theory is that it's some 18 year old kid in Idaho who's stealing little, old, Italian ladies' recipes & claiming them as his own. But that's just a theory. I also believe the Kennedy magic bullet theory was fabricated by the CIA. Read Garrison's On the Trail of the Assassins... but I digress.... (don't even get me started on all the conspiracy theories that are out there - Elvis is alive & Paul McCartney is really an impostor. I'm a sucker for that stuff!). Getting to the point of all my rambling: Nonna Lina knows her Easter bread. The recipe was a success (as you can see by my photo).

So, as my Easter gift to you, I'm including the recipe for all who want to try their hand at my foolproof "treccia di Pasqua". Here goes:

Treccia di Pasqua

5 eggs
1/4 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 package active dry yeast (don't use the instant stuff...only the stinky Fleischman's will do!)
3 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup milk
2 tablespoons butter
2 eggs, room temperature
1 tsp anise extract
egg wash (1 egg & 2 tbsp milk)
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1 tablespoon whole milk
1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 tablespoons multicolored sprinkles

Color the 5 eggs with egg dye. In a large mixing bowl, blend the white sugar, salt, and yeast well with 1 cup of the flour.
In a saucepan, combine 2/3 cup milk and butter, heating slowly until liquid is warm and butter is melted. Pour the milk into the dry ingredients and beat 125 strokes with a wooden spoon. Add eggs, anise extract and 1/2 cup flour or enough to make a thick batter. Beat vigorously for 2 minutes. Stir in enough flour to make a ball of dough that draws away from the sides of the bowl.
Turn out onto a floured board and knead for about 10 minutes, working in additional flour to overcome stickiness. Place the dough in a greased bowl, turning to grease the top. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and put in a warm, draft-free place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. (I stuck mine in the oven)
Punch down the dough and return it to a lightly floured board. Divide the dough in half.
Roll each piece into a 24-inch rope. Loosely twist the two ropes together and form a ring on a greased baking sheet. Pinch the ends together well. Brush the dough with the egg wash. Push aside the twist to make a place for each egg. Push eggs down carefully as far as possible, but don't let them touch the cookie sheet (or they'll explode...DON'T ASK ME HOW I KNOW!!!). Cover the bread with wax paper and let rise in a warm, draft-free place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
Bake the bread in a preheated 350 degree F oven for about 35 minutes. If you knock on the bread, it should sound sort of hollow. Place on a wire rack to cool.
Once the bread is cool, drizzle the icing on top between the eggs, and decorate with colored sprinkles. To make icing: mix together confectioners' sugar, 1 tablespoon whole milk, and vanilla.

THEN STUFF YOURSELF SILLY!!!

Hello again!

2008-03-11T18:51:00.003-04:00

It's been far too long! I feel as though I've dropped off the face of the earth....life has taken over.

How do women do it? How do they manage to maintain that delicate balance between work & life? I haven't figured it out yet. It's been five months since I started back to work and I'm still trying to get into the groove (how very 1984!).

Rush rush rush is all I do. Rush out the door to get to work - rush home to get dinner ready - rush to the store because I forgot to buy the kitty litter - rush to the library to find I've got a seven-dollar late fee on Madonna's "The English Roses" (do you see a theme here?). Argh!!!

Thank heavens the children have adapted to mommy going to work three days a week. In fact, I think they look forward to mommy's "work days". Ask my son why his mommy goes to work & he'll reply "to buy money for me". I think he's trying to piece together the fact that I work for a bank & buy things with the money I earn, hence the buying money bit. My daughter sees it as an opportunity to get mommy to pick things up on her way home...."Mommy, maybe you can pick up some marshmallows so we can make cocoa and watch 'merican idol together, okay?". How can I refuse? By the way, David Archuleta aaaaaaall the way. How cute is he?!? Am I the only one who wants to adopt him?!

I'd love to chat a while longer, but the dishes await. So shall I combat the sink first, or perhaps Mt. Saint Laundry!

Moving out!

2007-10-24T15:12:00.000-04:00

The transition back to work has been a tad bumpy for the entire family (as you can tell by my absenteeism). One of the major issues has been the early wake-up call. I set my alarm for 5:45 - 6am (usually necessitating some pounding of the snooze button!). My husband can sleep through a tornado, so that's not the problem. My son, however, isn't so keen on the 6am alarm; herein lies the problem. Shall I take this opportunity to divulge my deepest, darkest secret? I'm a co-sleeper. Shhhhh...don't tell!

For almost four years, we've shared our bed with at least one of our children. Our daughter co-slept with us until she moved into her own room at 21 months. The move was prompted by the birth of our son. Don't think we didn't try to accommodate both children at first. The project failed with our son waking every hour on the hour for feeding, and our daughter walking around in a sleep-deprived daze. Out went the girl & in came the boy! Our son, who will be 2 years old in a few weeks, had been sharing our bed up until this past weekend. It was necessary for him to move out so that he could get an extra hour or two of dream time. We found him to be cranky when he woke earlier due to my new routine. Add to that the fact that everyone is adjusting to not having mommy around at all times, and you've got one ticked-off toddler.

I didn't want him to move out, honest! I'd still have both kids in our room if I didn't have to get up so early in the morning. The great (sad) part is that both children adjusted so well to being in their own room. My husband doesn't mind having more room either. I think I'm the only one suffering! I'm missing having my children cuddled up against me in the morning (sniff sniff).

I know co-sleeping is a huge issue of debate; I've heard from both sides. Certain people would scold me about raising overly-needy children while others thought what we did was sweet. I didn't find it sweet at all! In my mind, at least in the beginning, it was more a survival tactic. He slept - we slept...simple as that. Well, it appears now that everyone is sleeping, that is, except for me. I've spent the past few nights in a very light sleep pattern, awakening at every sound. I'm sure I'll get over it....in a few years...perhaps.

What happened?!?!

2007-09-26T22:13:00.000-04:00

I've barely got a moment to get a cup of tea & make my way back to the classroom while trying to avoid stepping a goose-poop... Then I spot them - a gaggle of geese waiting to attack me (or perhaps they just wanted my All Bran bar!). What has become of my life?!?

I'll tell you what's become of it: I've joined the ranks of many women; I am, once again, a working mom. Yay me...I think.

This is my first week, so it's almost trivial for me to say that I'm overwhelmed. That's the understatement of the year! In between sorting my children out from babysitting care of their "nonna" (God bless our moms!), getting laundry done, making enough chili to freeze for two years, baking zucchini bread (to munch on when I'm super-stressed), and trying to fit in some cardio (yeah right!), I barely recognize the life that was once mine.

So true when people tell you to cherish every moment. I'm missing it now - those days when I felt like I'd need a wig due to all the hair-pulling I was inflicting on myself - how I wish I had them back. I tell myself, however, that I will get back to that in a short while. See, I'm only full-time during a three-week training, after which I will work only three days per week. This is a luxury that makes me truly grateful.

On a side-note, my daughter really pulled through for me with our potty-training dilemma. I wanted to get her going in order to ease things for the grandmas who are kindly taking over kiddie-duty while mommy's at work (I know, I am extremely lucky & I know it!!!). I failed to realize that I needed to go easy on my baby... But she was the bigger person between the two of us, and she gave mommy a huge back-to-work present. Thanks Cheech! Mommy's proud... Now back to studying for my training-test tomorrow (yikes!)...

I'm unravelling fast!!!

2007-09-17T18:24:00.000-04:00

It is currently 6:50pm on Monday evening & my naturally high-strung nature is getting the better of me. You see, my daughter has been sitting on the potty for nearly two hours. No, your eyes do not deceive you. She really has been sitting there for TWO SOLID HOURS!!! It's a battle of wills now. She's holding it in...refusing to give me the satisfaction of merely going to the potty, doing her thing, flushing, washing her hands & carrying on with the day.

For the past three days, I'm guessing we've spent 27 out of 72 hours in the bathroom. Can you understand what I mean when I tell you that I'm spent/done/knackered/ready to throw in the towel?!?

Add to that the grief that my son is giving me. Poor kid is teething, but he's making me miserable right along with him.

Plus...my mom went through a procedure that knocked the wind out of her sails (subsequently knocking the wind out of mine & everyone else's!).

Oh...and my husband has been working non-stop for the past three days due to some transportation conference supporting women's shopping habits or something of the sort....

Hang on while I make myself a chamomile tea....

Can you spare a few more minutes? Good! So I've finished preparing a dinner that no one is particularly interested in eating. On the menu tonight: butterfly pasta (farfalline), prepared two ways - with a cheese sauce for my daughter & with a meat sauce for my son. Me? I've had an All Bran bar & half a yogurt. I ate my pathetic little dinner while standing over the stove stirring the farfalline. Said farfalline are now sitting on a table, stone cold! As a matter of fact, I think I see our cat, Chancho, munching on the creamy cheese pasta as I blather on in the pity party that you've had the misfortune of stumbling upon.

Earlier on today, I prepared homemade chicken nuggets for lunch. But wait - after preparing the nuggets (with their crunchy coating), I proceeded to PEEL the coating off the nuggets. Why not just grill some chicken, you might ask? Why, it wouldn't be the same! No no no. They MUST see their mother painstakingly dip the chicken tenders in egg, then coat them in seasoned breadcrumbs. WHY? Because it amuses them...And I KNOW for a fact that they're conspiring against me. A three year old and a one year old (nearly four & two, I might add!).

Okay, I'm having a rough couple of days & I think my blood pressure is on the rise, so I'll quit while I'm ahead.

I'm at the end of my rope. See that? That's the end of my rope over there!!!

Next Monday will be the first day of "back to work" & I'm afraid that I will have exhausted all my energy by then. Mind you, compared to this past weekend, I'm sure it'll feel like I'm at Club Med!

Karate Kid

2007-09-12T14:48:00.000-04:00

I feel traumatized! All of this because of a playground bully....and she was only 2 years-old!!!

I'm looking into turning my children into full-fledged "Karate Kids"! My daughter will start preschool in January, so I have a few months to prep her. My son will follow suit next year. Neither of my kids are overly aggressive, rather they are quite the opposite. Oh sure, they'll fight with eachother, but they've never raised a hand to another child. We've taught them that hitting/pinching/punching/biting/etc is NOT okay, and they seem to have accepted that.

Fast forward to today, and I wish I would have taught them karate! They were both victims of a 2-year-old bully. SHE DREW BLOOD...LITERALLY! Now I'm sure her intention wasn't to lacerate their flesh, but that's exactly what she did. Both my children have claw marks on their cheeks which I tenderly cleansed & rubbed with an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. So who's fault was it?

1. The mother's fault? Well, she was truly mortified by the whole ordeal, apologizing profusely & administering lectures & time-outs to her daughter.
2. The monsterous child's fault? Hmmmm...she's only 2. Plus, she didn't have fiery demonic eyes which screamed "Spawn of Satan".
3. My childrens' fault? Should they have defended themselves better? But they're so gentle by nature.
4. My fault? I've never really taught them to fight back. I always try to instill a sense of compassion, forgiveness & understanding.

So here I am, trying to figure this all out. How will I handle this when my children are off to school? Most likely with antacids for the ulcers I'm likely to develop...no doubt!

I suppose my first step will be to treat them both to some s'mores after their nap, after which I'll take them to their first karate lesson!

When I'm 64

2007-08-16T14:49:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about the relationship that my children have with their grandparents. While watching my son play with his great-grandfather (my "nonno"), I realized that they are dealing with a whole different set of dynamics. It took me a while to understand this, and only after analyzing my own relationship with my grandparents did I realize the importance of "letting it be".

As a mom (and an admitted control freak), I naturally feel the need to be in on everything. I caught myself squawking when my 93-year-old grandfather pulled out two of those chocolate-covered digestive biscuits for the children...only to remember that, once upon a time, he used to do that with me. Nonno had a nasty/fantastic habit of bringing me a Coffee Crisp every Friday afternoon after his bocce game. Is chocolate the best thing for young children? Probably not. What is good for them, however, is the sweet (no pun intended here) memory they will associate with those biscuits once they're older & wiser. I, for one, can't walk by a candy-bar display without smiling when I spot the Coffee Crisp. Never did a chocolate bar taste sweeter than when my grandfather pulled it out of his blazer-pocket, holding it out in my direction.

Grandparents offer an unconditional love that they couldn't afford their own children because they were too busy disciplining, potty training, forcing veggies down their throats, and everything else a frazzled parent must do. In a way, I envy the relationship that my children have with all four grandparents and their great-grandfather. On the other hand, I am so very grateful that they have the privilege of spending quality time with all their "nonni and bisnonno".

If I close my eyes, I can still imagine the feeling of walking to the park with the sun shining down on my beaming face...the smell of grass...and the feeling of having the loving hand of my grandmother wrapped around my right hand, and my grandfather's wrapped around my left. I hope and pray that many years from now, my children know how much love surrounded them. So I'll "let it be"... relinquish that control... After all, these grandparents did raise a few children themselves, did the not?

Potty Pains

2007-08-04T11:47:00.000-04:00

This is going to be a huge pity potty...ehem...party. I'm the guest of honour! Let me start off with a big ol' "WHYYYYY MEEEEEE"?!?!? There, got that out of my system.

There's an enormous amount of pressure placed on parents when it comes to potty training- toilet learning-bodily evacuations- I don't really care what you call it; I just want to be done with it!!! People are beginning to train their INFANTS at 6 or 7 months of age. Wow, do I have some catching up to do, or what?!?! I'm tired of the faux-sympathetic looks when other parents learn of the fact that my 3 1/2 year old daughter outright refuses to go to the bathroom on her own.

A bright, outgoing child...we thought potty training would be a breeze. Boy, were we ever wrong! Nothing could be further from the truth. Take today, for instance: it's noon and she's already wet 4 pair of Dora the Explorer underpants. Not so good. As a result of this apparent failure (on our part, of course), I can't help but cringe at those imaginary fingers pointing at us. Worse yet are those imaginary voices bellowing laughter and jeers.

She is an extremely intelligent little girl, and I'm not saying this because she's my daughter. People comment on it all the time. By the time she was only 12 months old, she was already speaking in complete sentences and counting to 50. By 18 months, she had memorized all the words to the book Miss Spider's Tea Party!!! So, I rationalize and think to myself, "Perhaps she's too intellectually advanced to be potty trained like the average toddler". Yes, that usually makes me feel better....that is....until the 2-year-old next door yells to her mommy that she needs to "wee wee" and heads straight for the bathroom. Sigh!

My daughter began negotiating the potty training process at the age of two. Here's a synopsis of one of our many and varied scenarios: We had agreed that our daughter would go potty "when the snow falls". At the first sight of snowfall, she agreed to go to the bathroom.

Me: It's time to go potty
Her: Yep, the snow's here - let's go.

.....she tinkled...we flushed...hands were washed...off to play....

20 minutes later....

Me: It's time to go potty again
Her: Nope. I said I would when the snow falls
Me: Right, so let's go...quick, before you wet yourself
Her: Nuh-uh. The snow's not falling now; it's on the ground. I said only when it FALLS...SEE?

So, you understand my predicament. I've tried it all: Treats, stickers, having her run around without pull-ups or underpants, sitting for an hour in the bathroom while reading potty-related stories, and pleading. Yes, I've reduced myself to pleading. While all the experts tell me not to push this whole process, I can't help but envision having to hand my daughter a fresh Princess Pull-Up on the day of her driver's-ed exam. Perish the thought!

If anyone has any tips or advice, I'd be forever grateful! In the meantime, I will continue with this battle of wills - until one of us breaks.

Alone again...naturallyyyyyy

2007-07-18T14:07:00.000-04:00

It happens sooner or later for all parents - the equally anticipated and dreaded weekend away....without the wee ones. I had no inkling about all the emotions attached with something as simple as heading over to Niagara On The Lake for a one-night-stay. Sounds easy, right? Not quite.

The prep involved with a weekend away is, in itself, exhausting. Preparing my overnight bag...the children's' overnight bags...diapers...acetaminophen...special snacks...ugh!!! Add to that the constant worry about how the children will handle being away from mommy and daddy for two days... a recipe for a quick trip to the walk-in clinic just an hour before departure!

I worried for a week leading up to this "getaway". I worried to the point where I made myself ill (currently taking erythromycin for an apparent throat infection, along with pantaloc for reflux!!!). Was there really a need for all this tension and aggravation? In a word, no.

Children are much more adaptable than we (I!!!) give them credit for. We dropped our babies off with my parents, and (according to my mother...who would NEVER lie) there were positively perfect little angels the entire time. Our son, who habitually wakes at least once a night, slept through the night IN A CRIB (note: we usually have to drag in into bed with us for a semi-sound sleep)! My daughter remembered her "pleases" and "thank yous". All in all, a good time was had by all.

Believe it or not, I even allowed myself to relax a bit. I only called home three times (the minimum allowance, I would say). These were in no-way paranoia phone calls! One was made upon arrival to the inn (for emergency numbers and room information). The second call was made before bedtime (to wish everyone a good night & send subliminal "sleep well" messages to the children). The third call was made the following morning (more to ease my guilty conscience, in case my parents had the "night from hell").

After the arduous task of physically and emotionally preparing for this overnight stay, I think I'm in need of a getaway...again....now....right now!!!

What's new pussycat???

2007-07-03T14:55:00.000-04:00

What was I thinking?!? Am I certifiably insane? Please, don't answer that...

I've always thought that having a pet is a fantastic idea. It teaches children responsibility and fosters in them a sense of caring and compassion toward creatures great and small. Studies have also shown that having a pet around helps prolong a person's life. How 'bout that?! Well, I beg to differ.... for our pet nearly sent me into cardiac arrest!

Our family decided to adopt a tiny kitten, black as night. Chancho is a rambunctious little feline. This kitten loves to chase, gives playful bites, and loves to be cuddled. Perfect, right?

That perfection came to a halt just three days ago. Chancho was playing with a blanket we had left on the floor. As he played, my nineteen-month old son thought it would be funny to try sitting on the kitten. NOT a good idea. Chancho turned on my son, and left three-centimeter-long claw marks on his right arm. My son cried, I cried, and Chancho ran to hide under the sofa.

I quickly looked up the phone number to the York Region SPCA number. Fortunately for Chancho, they were closed. It bought him some time.

You see, a mother's instinct is always to protect her children, so my gut reaction was to give the kitten away. After much thought, and a few failed attempts at pawning poor Chancho off to family or friends, we opted to keep the kitten.

Chancho was only doing what any animal...or human would do - protecting itself! Aside from that one time, the claws never come out. Chancho is a gentle and affectionate kitty.

My advice to any parents who are looking to adopt a pet: It's a great idea, but be very aware! Ensure that you keep an eye on your children while they play with the pet at ALL TIMES! Teach your children the difference between playing nice & playing rough. Ensure that your pet receives all proper inoculations, spaying, neutering, and, if you want to go this route, de-clawing.

I'm glad we've decided to keep Chancho. My children adore this little kitten, and it appears that Chancho has developed a soft-spot for them as well. As for the incident between boy & cat, all is well. They're friends again.

Shop till you drop...

2007-06-12T14:24:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, the phrase pointed to an abundantly successful marathon shopping spree. Nowadays, "shop till you drop" often describes a shopping trip wherein I haul my two toddlers along in our double-stroller, sweat myself into a frenzy while trying to cram three hours worth of shopping & browsing into thirty minutes.

Motherhood is rich with rewards, but the one thing I was never warned of was the fact that shopping would never be the same. For example, I never counted on becoming so familiar with wheelchair accessible change rooms. I mean, in the past, there was never any need for me to enter one. That was then. Now, shop clerks have little choice but to automatically show me into one of those spacious cubicles in order to accommodate my children in their enormous stroller. Once inside, I pull out the lollipops & the race is on.

Before the finger wagging begins, let me explain the lollipops. Though I realize that they provide no nutritional value whatsoever, while inviting nasty bacteria causing cavities, they are my saving grace in the change room. Lollipops buy me close to twenty minutes of nearly uninterrupted shopping time. Plus, my children are great brushers - twice a day, using the 45-second tooth brushing rule. But I digress...

Today, my son's sucker of choice was apple-green, while my daughter gave preference to cherry-red. With no time to waste, I began whipping clothing off the hangers with lightening speed. I usually get through the change room experience without a hitch, but today proved to be a tad more challenging. You see, my daughter has recently learned about "boobies", and she can't help but point them out at every turn. As I pulled a tank top over my head, my child decides to inform the entire change room population that "look look, mommy's boobies are outside the shirt". Ehem. To add insult to injury, when an innocent shopper attempted to make her way into our already occupied wheelchair accessible change room, my ever-helpful daughter alerts her to our presence, "EXCUSE ME BUT THIS IS OUR PLACE...AND MOMMY'S BOOBIES ARE OUT...OKAY???". Okay. Ehem.

I bought the tank top and left.

Does the tank top fit properly? I'm not quite certain. Instead of focusing on fit & style, I was more focused on shushing my daughter, keeping my son from sticking his green sucker on the change room mirror, breaking up a hair-pulling/nose-punching fight between my two children, and exiting the department store before someone called security on us.

Shop till you drop...truer than ever!!!

The circle...

2007-05-29T14:57:00.000-04:00

Every so often, it happens - and boy oh boy does it ever sting! I'm talking about life...when it hits you...

The children & I have a decent morning routine going: after breakfast we head out for a half hour walk, stop off at a nearby park, then make the trek back home. All of this is made easier thanks to my Graco tandem stroller. It's a place to store a backpack filled with treats & juice, hold my cellphone, some sweaters, wipes, and (of course)transport the wee ones.

Eliana & Massimo sit in their stroller, happy as can be, watching the world go by while snacking on goldfish crackers. As for me, I consider it one of the more pleasant forms of cardio, rarely giving much thought to the act of pushing my kiddies around...that is...until today.

We made our way toward the library, and in the distance I could see a woman pushing an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. As we approached them, she shifted to the side in order to make room on the sidewalk. Once we were face to face, my daughter, ever the friendly chatterbox, bellowed out her morning greeting, "HELLO, I AM GOING TO THE PARK!". The gentleman, slightly hunched & with a soft,wrinkled smile said, "AREN'T YOU LUCKY!" She then asked him where he was off to... and he informed us that his daughter was taking him out for a stroll as well. His eyes scanned the scene & I'm almost certain that I saw a glimpse of nostalgia in his watery gaze.

That's when it happened: Life - it hit me in the face.

You see it, don't you? I'm pushing my children around in a stroller - and this gentleman is being pushed around in his "stroller" by his own child. This routine act of taking my children out for a walk - to the park - to the library - to a pond to feed the ducklings - it's part of a circle... Perhaps, one day, the roles will shift & we will have reached the other side of the circle, and they will be taking me out for a stroll - to the park - to the library - to the pond to feed the ducklings. Wow!

I can only hope that in the distant future, my babies have some memory of the stroll, that breezy spring morning in May, when I stopped to pick a stem of lilacs for my little girl & a maple leaf for my baby boy. And perhaps they will have a sense of the immeasurable amount of love I had in my heart for them at that very moment. Then, when I'm older, greyer, slightly hunched over with a soft, wrinkled smile, perhaps the memory of that May morning will entice them to head out for another stroll with me.

I've become "one of them"

2007-05-18T14:12:00.001-04:00

It happened when I uttered the phrase "Back when I was that age". GASP! A sure sign that I crossed a line...jumped ship & joined the "adult team". Next thing you know, I'll be muttering about how I walked for miles and miles during a blizzard, in stocking-feet, without ever complaining. Yes, I've become "one of them". All it took was an incident at a nearby secondary school, that's it. One teeny-weeny little encounter and I sailed on over to the other side. Easy breezy.

There are a handful of teens with enormous chips on their shoulders (no, not Doritos or anything of the sort...we're talking major, heavy-duty A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E!), who delight in making it nearly impossible for a pedestrian to comfortably utilize the sidewalk in front of their school. They drop their backpacks there. They sit in clusters and smoke till their fingers turn yellow, teeth turn brown and lungs turn black. They push each other around. They lie down on the sidewalk and bemoan the fact that "everyone sucks except us". They "rule the school". Today, however, they crossed the wrong mamma!

"Goth Girl" started it, not me! There she was, lying across the sidewalk as though she were sprawled out on her bed at home. Her chubby body, clad in black, making it very difficult for me to maneuver my hard-to-maneuver-at-the-best-of-times-double-stroller-from-hell. Her spiky black hair, with red chunky highlights looked almost as ferocious as her pinched-up scowl when I asked her in my nicest voice, "Could you please move so we can pass?". What came next was slightly unexpected - a big huff & the always annoying eye-roll. Hmmmm.... "Excuse me, we really need to get by". So, she moved while muttering a bunch of expletives....bleepin' bleep...move your bleepin' bleep & go home with your bleepin' brats...bleeper. WELL!

What "Goth Girl & her band of evil elves" didn't expect was retaliation. Hand on my hip, and in my best teacher-impersonation I came back with: "I could care less what you do or don't do. Fling yourselves off a bridge, for all I care - but when I come by with a stroller and ask you to move, YOU'D BETTER MOVE, GOT IT?!".

Still fuming when we arrived home, especially after my daughter asked me what a "bleeping bleep" was (sigh!), I picked up the phone to call the school. Yes indeed, I told on them...na-na-na-na-na. I called the vice-principal, and lashed in to him: "I'M A TAX-PAYING CITIZEN...AND YOU'RE STUDENTS HAVE NO RESPECT...AND I SHOULD CALL THE MAURY POVICH SHOW TO GET THEM ALL ENROLLED IN TEEN BOOT CAMP...AND...". Well, no need to continue because he couldn't have agreed with me more. In fact, he asked me to call the police because he was getting tired of having to do it himself. So, basically, he's telling me that not even HE has the authority to straighten these brats out.

Here I go.... Are you ready? It's coming....Final warning... Back when I was that age, I wouldn't have DREAMED of treating an adult with such disrespect! That's not to say that I didn't occasionally challenge authority, but never ever did I go out of my way to make someone uncomfortable for no good reason. What happened between then and now? Society? Media? Huge corporations putting nasty stuff in the soda pop? This is insane!!! I was having a bit of a crisis when my kids stepped in...

"Guys? Are you guys going to let a mommy with a baby-carriage pass without hassle when you're in high school?" I got what I needed from them, an "O-tay" from my son, and a "sure mommy" from my daughter. Okay, so I may have crossed over to the "other side", but I take comfort in knowing there's still a glimmer of hope.

Sleeping Like a Baby

2007-05-09T01:55:00.000-04:00

I should be getting ready for bed, but I'm not. Why? Because it's pointless, really. Why in the world would I get ready for bed, fall into a deep sleep, knowing full well that I'm going to awaken to blood-curling wails and cries for "moooooommmmmyyyyyy"?.

Where did I go wrong? How did I fail so miserably? Did I read the wrong books? Take the wrong advice? I ask these questions because this situation is wrong - and detrimental to my health! I haven't had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep in over three years. Something MUST be done.

A mamma in a sleep-deprived state is bound to make mistakes. Did I err in bringing my daughter to bed with us back in January of 2004? Perhaps. At the time, I felt that it was a win-win situation: she slept - we slept. Perfect!.....Well, not quite. While Eliana did make the transition from our bed to her own bed at the tender age of twenty-one months, it wasn't & isn't exactly a smooth one. The hurdles revealed themselves following the birth of her baby brother, Massimo. All of a sudden, the child who dozed off effortlessly began posing problems aplenty!

Enter Massimo - a tiny, colicky "gerdling" (suffering from infant reflux). He sobbed his little heart out unless he slept ON my chest, in an upright position. That's when I began looking less like myself and more like Morticia Adams.

It had been suggested that I investigate "Ferberizing" my children. Been there - done that - bought the t-shirt! I lasted two nights before I picked my heart up off the floor and crazy-glued it back together. I admit it: I am a wuss!

I tried Elizabeth Pantley's"no cry sleep solution", and I must admit that there was very little crying. I must also add that there was very little sleeping...NEXT???

Well, there's the option that we seem to have adopted: Co-sleeping. Dr. Sears is the one of North America's biggest advocates of bringing baby into your bed. His "scientific research" proves that co-sleeping reduces the risk of SIDS, helps babies to thrive, enhances intellectual and emotional development...and can solve all the world's problems (okay, I threw the last one in myself!). For what it's worth, none of the "scientific research" prompted me to resort to sharing my bed with hubby + baby. No, it was strictly a survival tactic. I needed to sleep.

So why am I lamenting all over again? Well, my son has taken to thrusting his diapered bottom in my face at various points throughout the night. I often find myself being smothered by a miniature behind, covered in an Elmo pyjama. If that isn't enough to make you curl up into a fetal position and pray for Zzzzzzs, my daughter has taken to crying out at 4am every-single-night, until either my husband or I join her in her room. HELP!!!

I'm back to square one. I'm pooped and in desperate need of a solution - PRONTO! Until then, I can only daydream (since I rarely enter into REM) of a time when I can sleep a fitful sleep, and wake feeling revived and refreshed. Dare to dream....ummm...daydream.

Tale of a broken-hearted mamma

2007-05-03T16:14:00.000-04:00

I was under the impression that a child would only turn on you upon blowing out the candles at their thirteenth birthday party. My daughter is ten years off the mark! Why did we have to reach this milestone so early? I am truly unprepared.

As she sat chomping on her toast, slathered with jam (just the way she likes it), my sweet, innocent daughter looks up at me with doe eyes and proclaims, "Mommy, I love you...but I think I like Nonna Isa better". Oh. My. Gosh.

Nonna Isa is my mother-in-law - a wonderful woman - but at that very moment, she was my nemesis. How could a child who was almost totally and completely dependent on me love someone she saw only once a week, at most? My pondering lead to an automatic response: "Nonna Isa is the one I love better because she gives me presents." Hmph!

I wanted to stomp and throw a hissy-fit, but I felt that would only reinforce my daughter's preference for her grandmother. Instead, I proceeded to explain that love did not equate with the number of gifts one bestows upon you. Love is about how one cares for you... Love is sitting up all night when your little one is wheezing and has too many "yuckies in the nose" to breathe. Love is rubbing your child's tummy because it feels "too filled up". Love is reading "Goodnight Moon" four times, then just one more time because your baby "likes it too much". Love is about the pain you feel when your child falls and is taken to the hospital for their "really bad boo-boo". I tried to sum it up as best I could. At once, I could see her features softening with a look of mutual understanding.

That's when she demanded, "So will you buy me a Barbie bicyle so I can love you more than Nonna Isa?"

Sigh.

This mamma's going green

2007-04-19T16:17:00.000-04:00

To some, Earth Day (April 22nd) is just another token holiday on our calendar. To others, Earth Day makes us reflect as we barrel down the highway in our SUV, chomping on a Big Mac, then flinging the wrapper out the window. This year, I've decided to take it one step further. I'm attempting to educate people so that planet & people-friendly choices can be made.

As a mother of two young children, I have become much more motivated to "go green". We all take for granted the convenience items that have become part and parcel of our daily lives. Did I ever stop to think, however, that those Pampers Swaddlers and lavender-scented wipes I use on my babies' precious bottoms contain chlorine? You see, once upon a time, chlorine was used as a poisonous gas...to kill people...in WWI. Today, we're using it to clean people. Odd, isn't it? And, don't get me started on all the toxins in our homes: synthetic pesticides, formaldehyde, fertilizers, growth hormones, volatile organic compounds...want me to go on? Didn't think so. So what can we do about it?

CLEAN GREEN

Years and years ago, my grandmother and mother would clean exclusively with white vinegar. I can still remember that distinct smell on Friday nights...also known as cleaning night... or, as I jokingly referred to it, salad night! They had the right idea, though. They used all-natural products to clean our home, thereby reducing our exposure to any harmful toxins. Nowadays, our cleaning baskets are stockpiled with Lysol, Vim, Comet, etc. I have opted out of mass-market cleaners. One major reason for this decision is the fact that I am very uncomfortable with a government that doesn't regulate the safety of chemicals used in the products that line the shelves at Fortinos. Vinegar, lemon & baking soda suit me just fine (and they're a lot easier on the pocketbook!). Oh, I do use dish soap, but it's non toxic: Nature Clean or Method.

BUY GREEN

I've made a conscious decision to buy organic (when possible & necessary), or I make the effort to buy local. If it has skin on it when I eat it, it's organic: apples, pears, grapes, potatoes, etc. My kids loooooove grapes, apples & strawberries, so why in the world would I want to fill my adorable, little munchkins with pesticides? Whenever possible, however, I buy locally. First off, the apples at Pine Farms in King City taste much better than any other apple I've ever eaten. Plus, by supporting local farmers, I am aiding in the protection of green space, helping to sustain viable farming communities, and I provide more sound nutrition for my family.

BE GREEN

Anytime I breathe in, I'm filling my lungs & body with chemicals...why add to it? I've made a conscious effort to use all-natural products with regard to personal-hygiene as well. Yup, we're all sulphate and paraben-free. The children smell of Gaia bath products or Burt's Bees. And the old folks? We use Jason products, Kiss My Face, or Avalon Organics. We've never smelled better!!! Plus, I take comfort in knowing that I am not slathering myself & my children with unnecessary chemicals. It's a win-win situation.

Please don't misinterpret my message here. I am by no means telling you to ride around on a trike, wear negative heel earth shoes, eat tofu & spelt all day... Heck, I drive around in a Ford Explorer (though I walk when possible, or use the Corolla if I'm on my own). My message is one of making a collective difference. If we collectively make a few good, sound choices, we can actually make a huge difference in our health and the health of our planet. On Earth Day (April 22nd), turn lights off when you leave the room...switch to compact flourescent bulbs...turn off the tap when brushing your teeth...pick up your trash...start small, but make a big impact.

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

I talk the talk & walk the walk!

2007-04-16T14:52:00.000-04:00

I awoke Sunday morning (April 15th) to a cold & damp welcome from the weatherman. I was hoping for sunny skies, but a walker's gotta walk...2 degrees celcius & drizzle. Yay me!

I arrived at Fr. Ermano Catholic School in Woodbridge at 9:35am for Super Cities Walk for MSthe & things were already in full swing. The number of people at the "Vaughan Walk" was astonishing. I'm not even going to guess how many of us took part in the fundraising event.

People didn't seem to be as phased by the whole scene as me. I looked around & couldn't help but notice everyone's "sign" - where you indicate who you're walking for. In my case, it was for "All Canadians with MS". But as I circled around the room, I read the names of those who live with the disease; some even partook in the day's events. People of all ages coming together...even "nonni" - little, old people...bless their hearts. And, although I had a brush with MS, today made the disease so much more "real". There has to be a cure out there somewhere...

As a 10km walker, I was asked to follow the green signs & at 10:04am, that's exactly what I did. Less than five minutes into the walk, however, I was stopped by a middle-aged Italian man who was sipping his espresso & smoking a cigarette outside a bakery/deli. In his thick Italian accent, he asked me to explain why all these people were walking around with signs on their backs/fronts. Being a lone-walker (no team...no company) he either felt I was more approachable, or he took pity on my sorry butt! I proceeded to explain as best I could, without getting too technical. Immediately, he asked if I wanted money (LOL), so I mentioned that a donation would be graciously accepted... The guy zips into the bakery & comes back out with two twenties. Well I'll be!!! I attempted to get his info for tax receipt purposes, but he waved it off & said, "My name is Tony...the rest no matter...I hope they find that cure". In total, I submitted $850.00 - a far cry from my original goal of $500.00!

The route wasn't exactly scenic - they took us through the streets of Woodbridge. I had the opportunity to walk by many enormous, palatial homes...most equipped with three-car-garages, gargoyles, ferocious lions, ancient greek goddesses & the occasional Madonna. I kept myself occupied & tried not to focus too much on the increasing pain in my left leg by listening to songs by The Killers, Tom Jones, Mika, Barry Manillow, The Village People, Bowie, Celentano, Ricchi e Poveri...lol....and I had to repeat Elvis' "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love" a couple of times (it makes me laugh). :)

At exactly 11:30am, I reached the finish line... so, taking into account the 5 minutes I spent gathering up that unexpected $40.00 donation, I made decent time - 1 hour & 21 minutes. Might I have done better? Perhaps... In the days prior to my spinal fracture...and before all my neurological crap started. Then again, I don't think I did too badly.

The sign at the finish line thanks us.... Ironically, I'm the one that's thankful... I'm thankful that I was able to walk the walk, when I know there are so many who can't. These events are great because we get the opportunity to contribute & at the same time, our eyes are opened to the things we should be most grateful for - things we take for granted on a daily basis.

So, folks...to all those who contributed in the form of a donation...or a kind word, I thank you dearly. Your support meant a lot; it kept me going when my lungs were about to give out (damn asthma) & when my leg cramp almost caused me to drop to my knees in front of one of those scary lions.

Thank you. Truly.

Live and let DYE

2007-04-13T20:52:00.000-04:00

It started off harmlessly enough... A bit of good-natured teasing on my brother's part. He couldn't help but point out the obvious amount of grey that's taken up permanent residence amid my black/brown do. My sister, brother-in-law....and all others present decided to take a closer look.

Here's where my happy Easter became not-so-happy...

The not-so-subtle suggestion was made that I colour my hair. Apparently, my face is too youthful looking to be sporting grey around the perimeter. I came back with a feeble comment about a number of beautiful/successful/influential women who sport a silver/white coiffe. Someone shot back that "it's fine if you're sixty, but not in your mid-thirties." OUCH!

From the time I was a teen, I made the decision to embrace the natural process of aging. I've seen enough women fight it...and fail miserably (Joan Rivers, Melanie Griffith & Goldie Hawn...to mention but a few). I decided that I would challenge aging, but befriend it at the same time. Little did I realize the fight would involve a third party - our youth-obsessed culture.

If you google "hollywood actresses grey hair", you'll come up with Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada"...and Taylor Hicks! I was extremely disappointed by the lack of silver-haired sirens in Hollyweird. Nada...nothing...just a few honourable mentions: Jamie Lee Curtis decided to go "au naturel" at the last Academy Awards ceremony. And that's about it. Whoopdidoo! Coincidentally, there's hardly a shortage of mention for the grey-haired hunks of Hollywood: George Clooney, Richard Gere, Anderson Cooper, Michael Douglas (even though his face looks like a roadmap through the Rockies!!!)...etc. etc. etc.

So what's a lass like me to do? I represent a minority; only twenty-five percent of the female population show signs of grey between the ages of 25-34. Damn Murphy's Law!!! So, in representing a minority...I've got to get this right. To dye or not to dye? That is the question...

I don't mind my grey as much as others might. For me, they're like battle-scars...and I wear them proudly. My greys speak volumes about me, my biology and my history. Why would I want to hide that?

This reminds me of my "birth-mark-moment" on my wedding day. See, I've got this birthmark, shaped like Argentina & the colour of a light strawberry sorbet, smack dab between my throat & chest. It is anything BUT faint...and when I'm angry or nervous, it's like a beacon in the night! My eager hair & make-up lady politely suggested I cover it up...so that it wasn't so obvious in pictures. Hmmmm.... So I'm supposed to cover up this birthmark...because...ummm... I can't even finish this thought; it just doesn't make sense to me! My birthmark, like my grey, is part of what makes me unique. And, as long as I'm comfortable with it, I'll go with it....

This is not to say that I'll never cover up the grey. In fact, I've got a bottle of Herbatint in 3N (natural dark chestnut) sitting upstair, on the bathroom counter. It's been there for five days & I glance at it from time to time. I'm not sure I'll use it...I came pretty close the other day...but I might wait a bit longer. I've got to figure this out first.

A little "soul food"...

2007-04-13T20:38:00.000-04:00

The kids were intent on playing in the kitchen this morning while I made my tomato sauce (I'll post the recipe later). I could see they were keeping a close watch on me while they built their fortress out of Mega-Blocks. And, on any other day, I'd consider the whole tomato sauce-task necessary & tedious. Today, however, a memory popped into my head which made me stop & reflect on what I was doing - sharing a moment.

I can still smell the sweet aroma of my Nonna Angelina's top-notch meat sauce. I can't tell you what she added; if you asked her, she'd tell you "a pinch of this & a fist-full of that". She cooked it as she felt it - no measurements, just intuition & feeling. When I'd come home from school, that sauce was guaranteed to be simmering away in that gigantic "pasta sauce pot". The handle was slightly askew, but old habits die hard. So, I'd come home from school (grade school, highschool, university) & there was nonna, stirring her trademark "sugo".

After my grandmother passed away in '94, the tradition was taken up by my mom & moved over to weekly-sauce making on Saturday morning. The aroma was slightly different, but equally sweet - somethings change, but the soul of the food stays the same...as does that pasta sauce pot!

So, I'm watching my kids...who are watching me stir the tomato sauce & I have a revelation: Food isn't just about nourishing our bodies - Food nourishes our soul. It isn't exclusively about calories, fat & fibre - it's also about love, frienship, and wonderful memories. Quite the lesson, don't you think? From now on, I'll focus on cooking with "heart", adding a pinch of this...and a fistfull of that....And here's my recipe for Steph's spectacular tomato sauce:

1/4 cup of good quality olive oil
1 sweet onion, finely chopped
5 cloves of garlic, crushed & coarsely chopped
2 boxes (750ml each) of Pomi chopped tomatoes (I substitute one with a jar of my in-laws' homemade "pomodoro", made fresh every end-of-summer)
1 small can of Pecchino tomato paste
1 scant tablespoon of sugar (to remove the acidity)
Salt to taste
1 bunch of fresh basil

Heat the olive oil in a large pot. Add the onions & garlic & sautee' over med-high heat for 8 minutes or so, until transparent. Add the can of tomato paste & stir well. Add the chopped tomatoes & stir. At this point, I like to use my little blender-thingy to remove any large chunks of onion or tomato. Since I use the homemade tomato stuff, I add that...stir it all up. Toss in the sugar & mix. Then, season with salt... 1 tsp might do it. Now, bring the sauce to a boil. Once it boils, reduce the heat to a simmer & let it cook (stirring once in a while) for about 45 minutes. In the last ten minutes, add the basil leaves. Voila'... it's done...ready to serve (and freeze too...it'll keep in the freezer for a month).