Author: amandameneses0101@gmail.com

Posted on

Looking for adventure? 10 Reasons to take a Road Trip !!!

IMG_2847

I remember it like it was yesterday … the first flight we took as a family of four.

It was a 5 hour flight from the east coast to Utah to visit some family and explore the west. The kids were 4 1/2 yrs and 15 months. I wanted to save money so I didn’t buy a seat for the 15 month old. We booked a late flight and kept him awake all day with the hope that he’d sleep on the plane. Despite every good effort, the child who had just recently weaned and found his legs only wanted to run around and when we couldn’t allow him to do that, he was inconsolable. After that trip I decided that we would not be flying again for a very, very long time.  That combined with a desire to see the world and a lack of funds to travel internationally, fueled the idea of “Road tripping.” And now, we’re obsessed!

To date, we have traveled up and down the east coast, driven from MD to TX and back and explored a good bit of the west. On one of our trips we managed to hit 12 states and on another we explored 4 major national parks. When people hear of our trips and adventures and they learn that we drove it all, they’re usually aghast. “You drove all that way!?” “How long did it take you?” “Don’t the kids drive you crazy?” “Omg! What do you do with all that time in the car?!”

So this post is to answer those questions and share with you ….

10 Reasons why Road Tripping is the thing to do!

  1. It’s cheaper! Check the gas prices and do the math … if you have more than two people in your traveling party, it’s almost always cheaper to drive your own car. Saving money on plane tickets and car rentals allows more money to go towards other things – like cool excursions.
  2. My children won’t disrupt anyone else. Can they still be whiney and annoying sometimes? Sure! They’re kids! But they’re mine and I love them unconditionally. If they kick the back of the seat, whine, or are too wiggley … strangers who have no obligation to my children and who paid good money for their seat aren’t bothered. This eliminates a ton of stress on me, as their mother.
  3. It’s more comfortable. We have it down to a science! The kids pick what movies they want to pack. We have wireless headphones so that they can watch a movie while we listen to our music. There’s a cooler packed in between their seats filled with juice boxes, snacks and sandwiches. They each bring their pillow and pack a “carry-on” which is filled with fun activities for the car – a new activity book, travel-sized games, their toys, ear-buds, tablets, etc. You simply can’t carry all those things on a plane. Nor can you put your seat all the way back or lay down across the seats.
  4. It allows for more flexibility. You have your own vehicle and your own schedule. You can choose to stick to your pre-determined stops or be spontaneous without the worry of a flight to catch or a shuttle schedule to check.
  5. It encourages you to explore more places off the beaten path. Airports tend to be the hub of cities and businesses and are full of tourist traps and chain-restaurants. Once you are in the center of those hubs, the motivation to move outside of that area may be lessened because of traffic and time and sheer inconvenience. But if you’re planning a road trip, you simply plan your route based on where you want to go, not just where there’s an airport. We decide how far we want to drive each day and then we look in that vicinity to see where we want to stop and what opportunities there are in that area. Every day we have a new adventure planned. Try it! I promise you’ll find yourself at more parks and cozy little restaurants then you would if your plane dropped you off in the middle of a city. And my experience has proven these places to be our most memorable gems.
  6. It allows for more family bonding. Spending hours in close quarters affords us the opportunity to know one another more deeply and it forces us to find enjoyment in one another when the tendency may be to retreat and be alone. With no pressures of time or being in public, discussions take place that otherwise wouldn’t. Car games to pass the time encourage team work and shared thoughts. We’re in it together and the trip isn’t enjoyable for anyone if someone is acting up – so there’s a motivation to be pleasant and to be a team player. Do we sometimes get on each other’s nerves? Sure, that’s what the independent activities are for. But when those get old, we come back together again. Kids love playing games with their parents and the time in the car gives us a break from life’s busyness. And with a laptop I can get some work, writing and photo editing done while we travel instead of trying to do it at our destinations or when we get back home.
  7. It teaches children the virtue of patience. In a world of instant gratification, road-tripping shows them that the sweetest things in life are worth working and waiting for. A 5 hr road trip for my kids is a piece-of-cake because they know what a 17 hr drive is like. And I’m convinced that the work and wait it takes to travel to various places makes them appreciate our destinations even more.
  8. It reinforces geography and teaches map reading skills. This dying art is alive and well when the Meneses family takes a vacation. Using both digital GPS as well as a simple paper version of the states we are traveling through, we chart our path of adventure; and as a result, learn where these cities and states are in-relation to one another and how long it takes to travel between them. And … it’s another car activity to keep our minds busy!
  9. It creates cultural awareness. Exploring different locales within the same trip allows us to see first-hand the common threads and the vast differences that lie just a day’s car-ride apart. It’s a 10 hr drive from the moonshine-filled, lush Great Smoky Mountains of the twangy Tennessee countryside to the jazz-filled streets of New Orleans. Another 8 hr drive and you leave this architectural gem, infused with Gullah and French influence, and the swampy wetlands of Louisiana turn into the dry, brown desserts and the cowboy culture of Texas. Be it food, way of speaking, common mode of transportation, placement of modern-day conveniences, homeless population, level of crime, or merely the overall lifestyle of the people who call these places “home”, my children can see that there’s goodness to be found everywhere. Our hometown isn’t superior because it’s familiar and there’s more than one way to live.
  10. Planning ahead saves time and money and allows for a more stress-free vacation. Road tripping does require more planning than a one-stop vacation … but it saves you more time and stress once your vacation begins. Friends and family love to tease me about my typed itineraries. But when vacation comes, I literally punch the address into the GPS and off we go! I don’t have to worry about where we are going to eat or if  a certain place is open on Sundays. I’ve already done all that. And if we want to cut something out or stay longer, we can! But we’re not wasting time walking in circles or googling “things to do”. Trip Advisor and Map Quest will become your best friends (they’re free). There’s no moping around the hotel room, “What are we going to do today?” nonsense. And as I said before, you get more experiences and have more flexibility by driving your own car. 

 

Start out small and give it a try! Your first road trip doesn’t have to be across the country. It doesn’t require a ton of money or a travel agent. The planning can be done a little-at-a- time and the hotels booked and paid for one-by-one, in advance, so that when the vacation comes, your expenses are minimal. And, like anything, the more you do it, the better you will get at it!

My family is half-way to our goal of experiencing all 50 states. I am convinced that there is no better way to explore the vast and varied experiences of this country than hitting the open road. There are so many cultural experiences and adventures right here in the US. The sites you will see, the road-side stands selling local fare-boiled peanuts or fresh produce, and the places you will find just can’t be replicated when you’re in the air. My favorite memories have come from these trips. I have snorkeled amazing reefs in the Florida Keys, rode a mule down into a canyon, floated alongside manatees, jumped from cliffs in Texas, ridden on a train through the West Virginia countryside and danced in the streets of New Orleans with my 9-year-old …. and none of those things would’ve happened if we hadn’t taken a road trip.

Don’t get me wrong …. I want to travel internationally and sometimes a plane ride is only practical … but while the kids are still young, while I have 4 tickets to buy – not just 2 and while there is still so much of this country that we haven’t seen, road tripping has allowed us to check-off bucket list items without going into debt and has shown us the many hidden treasures that can be found when you take the long road.

Adventure can be for everyone! Go find it!

Posted on

The Yellow School Bus

It’s that time of year again! The lazy days of summer are coming to a close and a new school year is about to begin. It’s another year of learning, another year of adventures and another year older. The pencils have been sharpened, the notebooks labeled and the new lunch boxes are ready to go! My days will once again be mine … but my evenings just got much busier.

As a mother of two ADD kids, I do my best to be positive about school and I try hard to keep learning exciting for them. I still love to learn. In my professional life, I take every opportunity I can to understand something better and every family vacation is sure to include some aspect of science and history. I want my children to have the same love of learning that I do.

But my confession is that I dread the start of school as much as my children do. I like to sleep-in. I hate rushing back from my afternoon activities at 3pm for pick-up (no bus service for us). The after-school sports and activities are cumbersome. And the 3-4 hours of assisted homework and assignments are the price we pay for our children’s learning challenges, as take-home work is a necessary part of knowledge retention, I’m sure. But it’s not fun … it’s painful actually. I much prefer learning in the form of snorkeling a reef, hiking a military fort and shouting out state capitals in the car. Don’t get me wrong, the peaceful and open day-times are wonderful …. but they don’t make-up for the non-stop run-around in the afternoons and the tear-filled evenings.

Many days I dream to say “We survived academia!” I long for the moment when their education has paid off and when my evenings are no longer filled with “I don’t want to”, “I don’t understand”, “That’s not how my teacher does it” and “I hate school”… I look forward to the days when their learning is an independent experience … and I’m not the evil cohort who is forcing them into this torturous practice.

But I know that along with that peace and independence will come an empty house, less hugs and a “letting go” that I’m not ready for.

Just like my children, I too, am on a journey and with each passing year I have something more to learn. I need more patience. They need more independence. Together, we need to continue fighting through and building our bond – because one day, they will call me with a challenge far greater than “Mom, my science project is due tomorrow.” And they will rely on my knowledge and experience to get them through … and I will wish that life was once again simpler for them. But I will thank the lucky stars that it was me that they called first.

So for every parent who is going to cry when they put their babes on the school bus … for every parent who at some point this school year will get a phone call from administration reporting that their child has done something that they as a parent never dreamed their kid would do …. for all the parents of children who don’t enjoy school …. for the homework no one understands and the science projects that you learn about the day before they are due … I give you the slightly sweet yet potent:

Yellow School Bus

  • 1/2 cup gin
  • 1/2 cup white rum
  • 1/2 cup vodka
  • 1/2 cup triple sec
  • 1/4 cup amaretto
  • 1/4 cup 151 proof rum
  • 1/4 cup sweetened lime juice
  • 4 cups pineapple juice
  • 2 cups grapefruit juice

Mix all the liquors, then add the juices. Serve cold or over ice.

img_4026-1img_4027-1img_4028-1

May your tears be fewer, your stress be lowered and may school be just a little more palatable for ALL parties involved!

This recipe makes a carafe that will last you all week, saving you time later. And just like a school bus, it’s full of lots of different characters! There’s enough alcohol that its sure to be effective. And because there’s pineapple and grapefruit juice in it … you can start at 9 am and nobody’s gonna judge 😉 LOL

Happy First Day of School! Good luck!

Posted on

Combating Racism: A response to the Charlottesville attacks

holding hands

I've been out-of-town for the past couple weeks and so when the Charlottesville rallies and the responsive actions of the nation occurred, I was for the most part "unplugged" (aside from catching a few headlines and Facebook statuses here and there). I needed this vacation immensely and my efforts to relax and disconnect were absolutely intentional and necessary. So, with late and limited knowledge and the desire to remain relaxed while contemplative and meaningful, it has taken me some time to compile a response.

After scouring multiple news sources, I have learned that the images I saw involved a group of several hundred people, mostly men, who gathered in Charlottesville, VA to protest the removal of a Confederate Statue – which was scheduled to be moved and sold after a city council vote determined this would be the course of action. They named this rally "Unite the Right". Despite the fact that Charlottesville is a very liberal town, multiple white supremacist groups (Neo-Nazis, KKK, etc.) from around the country were attracted to the area by the news of the impending statue removal and have used it as a gathering place. Over the past several months, they have on several occasions, convened there and at least one other time held a torch-lit rally with little-to-no repercussions. When counter-protestors (many from the near-by university) arrived and gathered, the number of torches grew and the number of injured and dead climbed. Amongst the various messages, the white supremacist groups, now collectively being dubbed the "Alt Right" were photographed performing the Hitler salute and waving Nazi flags.

Following the events that occurred in Charlottesville, several cities, including Baltimore, made the decision (through due process) to remove confederate statues from the city. The law does not require a vote from its residents in order to do this and given the attention the Charlottesville vote had and the unfolding that resulted from that attention, I think the Mayor made a wise decision for the safety of its residents, to remove the statues quickly and quietly overnight so as to discourage further rallies and potential violence. Baltimore after all, didn't handle the Freddie Gray rallies very well. And still in the name of history, in the name of fairness, the debate continues and our country remains divided.

And divided as this country may be, the problems here aren't new ones and the solutions I believe are simpler than we realize.

The kind of hatred and racism displayed in Charlottesville isn't new. It's not because of a certain president (though his attempts to rebuke the "Alt-right" groups that support him were pathetic) and it's not because a certain political party holds the majority. The inhumanity of our past has trickled down for centuries in the form of oppression, prejudice, and bigotry. Much the way drops of rain fall out of the sky and then work their way through the layers of earth, this hatred has continued to percolate the minds of one generation onto the next. And before we can begin to stop this flow and prevent further inhumanity, we must first acknowledge it's existence. Fortunately, thanks to cultural exposure and education, oppressive and racist ideologies such as white supremacy are less and less popular and acceptable with each coming generation. And yet, here we are two weeks post Charlottesville and it's obvious that there's still a lot of work to do.

I remember when I first learned about the KKK, civil rights and the Nazi regime. A child in a classroom, I was horrified when I learned what injustices and sheer evil had been done to our citizens of color and the jewish people, not to mention the other minority groups who were persecuted. As we stared at the horrifying images of nooses hung from trees, gas chambers and countless unmarked graves, I peered around the classroom sheepishly at my friends and classmates who came from such heritage. My heart ached for them, their history, their ancestors and I wondered how they were feeling – sitting in our predominately white classroom. I was only a child and still I felt the shame for the way some human beings, predominantly human beings of my color, treated others and I wanted to fix it.

If you had asked me at that time what 2017 would look like, I would've told you we'd be flying in space ships and wearing rocket booster shoes. I would've thought we'd have a colony on Mars by now. Everything in my mind's eye saw progression, a world of unity working together to not just coexist but to thrive. I never would have believed that in this year there would be a mob of angry men carrying lighted torches and claiming their superiority over others based on the color of their skin. Seeing the images of Charlottesville made me feel like I had woken-up in a fucked-up version of 'Back to the Future' and Doc Brown had mistakenly sent us back two hundred years instead of forward. And in my mind I could hear the sassy voice of my friend/coworker, "What year is this?"

Obviously the images there were disturbing and disgusting. Any decent human being with even a fraction of a heart can see just how wrong it was. So to focus on that aspect of the attacks would merely be stating the obvious.

I want to focus on the solution. Once we acknowledge the problem, the semantics of "Who-did-what?" are less of a priority. What group gathered where, who was holding a torch and who was holding a bat really doesn't matter. The problem is that there is racial tension in this country and there are groups of people who believe they are superior and want to eliminate other races. That has to change. And in order to move towards the path of healing and recovery we must make a conscious effort to reach out to the other side. It is only after we bring together the edges of our wound that it can start to heal and mend. Concern, understanding, passion and a desire to repair can guide our hearts the way a surgeon's hands guide his sutures. And pure human love and kindness are the perfect salve. We must work together and we must work hard to protect our future generations from the perpetual ooze of hatred and sickening ideology that is festering in this painful wound and further contaminating our society.

But how? How do we start? Where do we start?

On a quest for answers, my heart searched for words of goodness. And my ideals were confirmed.

Gandhi: "Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent then the one derived from fear of punishment."

"I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people."

"A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history."

Haile Selassie: "Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted, the indifference of those who should have known better, the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most, that has made it possible for evil to triumph".

<

p style=”padding-left: 30px;”>Albert Einstein: "Peace cannot be kept by force, it can only be achieved by understanding."

And then of course, there's the ever infamous and ever inspiring "I have a dream" speech by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. As I reread it, I in some ways was again inspired by his powerful and influential words. Yet, there was another part of me that felt the speech was in some ways antiquated now ….. or at least it should be. The "For whites only" signs are gone and yet the subtle signs seen when a cab driver drives past a black family or when a police officer racially profiles someone….. or when white men march with torches …. proves that we haven't come as far as we should have.

"I have a dream … that little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers……"

Seriously? We're not there yet?  As a country, why aren't we there yet? Why do races who work and live side by side still feel uncomfortable with one another? Sure, in the scope of world history, it hasn't really been that long since white men owned black men in this country. But still … we need to work harder to overcome this.

 

So, here is my response to the Charlottesville and racial issues in this country. My response is in the form of a challenge. And it's for every person regardless of their color. My challenge is for you to step outside of your social circle. Find a person in your neighborhood, work, school who comes from a different place and who wears a different color on their skin. Initiate a conversation. Ask them questions. Build a relationship. And I don't want to hear "I have black friends." Find a new one. And enter that relationship with the purpose of trying to understand them and enjoy them, not just mingle with them and certainly not to judge or change them.

We all carry biases. We've all heard the stereotypes. We all have questions in regards to other people's cultures. And the best way to get answers, the best way to understand, the best way to tackle the stereotypes and understand where their origins lie is to explore them, not ignore them. Have you ever wondered why so many black people do something? Or are afraid of something? Ever wondered why white people have a certain tendency towards something? Stop hiding your curiosities. Stop joking about it amongst your safe circle of like-colored friends. Establish a trusting relationship with members of another race and you can begin to get your questions answered. It's hard to hate, it's hard to fear, what you understand.

Now. Once you have this relationship, once trust has been established and a solid effort has been made to nurture that relationship, take that relationship another step. Invite that friend into your home. Sit them at your table. Cook for them your best dish. Share with them stories of your upbringing and your family. Share a meal with them. Few gestures indicate kindness, generosity and love towards another human being more than inviting someone to break bread with you. There is a humility and vulnerability that comes with welcoming someone into your dwelling and sitting them at your table to share the foods and culture of your upbringing. And my hope is that as this relationship continues to blossom, your dinners will one day include more family members so that they too can learn.

We have statistics to show us the numbers of hate crimes that continue to occur, the crime ratios based on race, the number of interracial marriages, the racial breakdown of our communities and universities … but no where can I find a study that shows the number of people who have in the last year (or even lifetime for that matter), invited someone of a different race to share a meal with them. And my bet is that if we did conduct such a study, we'd be ashamed of the results. The segregation signs are down and yet we continue to separate ourselves – in the night clubs, in our neighborhoods, in our work place break-rooms. And my bet is that as we begin to hear other people's stories and ideas and feelings and we share our own in return, that we will begin to understand one another. That understanding will yield comfort and togetherness and ultimately loyalty. As Albert Einstein so geniusly stated, understanding is what will bring us to peace, not force.

Imagine if everyone in this country picked just one person of another race and made it their goal to understand and enjoy them - Just one more person to learn from, one more person to share with, one more person to love. Imagine how the world would change if we could get our questions answered, if we could reduce our discomfort and our fear and expand our world views and perspectives. We can't wait for someone else to reach out. We can't wait to be invited. We have to take that leap. We have to be the one that reaches across the aisle. We have to be the one that tries. Learning to understand another human being, seeing them as a soul instead of a number or a color …. that's something no political party can fund, no history book can teach and no statue can build. That I believe is what will heal our country and make our children's world a brighter …. or shall I say, more colorful one.

Posted on

Do as I say … not as I do ….

chalk board pic for blog

"Do as I say, not as I do"….

Not sure who came up with that one-liner but clearly, it's bullshit. You don't have to be a child psychologist to know that children learn most from what they observe in adult behavior and much less in what they are instructed to do. If you tell your kids not to curse, but everyday you fill their ears with obscenities … odds are they will grow up talking like sailors. If you tell your kids to eat their veggies but you yourself always pass the salad and live off of carbs and protein … I promise, you will have a hard time getting your kids to comply with eating the green stuff. It's simple.

Statistics have shown very clearly that our children tend to copy the behaviors we display. According to many studies … teens whose parents are current smokers are substantially more at risk to become regular smokers at an early age or to experiment early on with cigarettes than kids with nonsmoking parents. Studies on alcohol abuse carry similar results. Study after study confirms the propensity for cycles of abuse. Be it verbal, emotional, physical or sexual … those who are abused tend to abuse others. And anyone who has survived this in their youth needs to seek professional help to learn how to break those cycles. Hating what your parents did to you typically doesn't create the skill that is needed to initiate positive change. You need help to learn how to behave differently.

These findings are no surprise to anyone. But what about the more subtle habits and behaviors we display? How do they affect our children? What messages do our word choices and body language and home environment teach our children? If we roll our eyes and dismiss our children, will they feel important and validated? (Ugh … that one is hard with teenagers … but one I am working hard to fix!) If we mock them or criticise them for their display of emotions – be it crying or feeling angry, will they grow to be emotionally vulnerable adults or will they shut down and become hardened? Can we teach them that feelings are real and emotions are vital and still teach them self-control?

What if we replied to the complaining child "I understand that this is frustrating, nonetheless, this is my decision." – rather than "I said shut your mouth" or, in the other direction, "Fine, go do what you want … I'm tired of your complaining." What do those words and actions teach our children? And in reference to the constant rec sport debate …. No, not everyone needs a trophy, but we can praise them for playing their best and teach them to shake hands with the other team. This "snowflake" generation is a direct response to a hardened generation and the right way, as always, is somewhere in between. We don't need to coddle our children, but we do need to respect them. Not everything needs to be sugar-coated but it doesn't have to be a smack in the face either.

Through either action or inaction, our habits, mannerisms and body language speak volumes. Through our words too, we teach our children when we talk to them, about them and around them. Our word choice, voice inflection and tone send messages much louder than the actual speech we may be giving.

It's no secret now that what we say to our children shapes what they think of themselves. Calling them "dumbasses" or "sluts" doesn't typically yield intelligent and self-respecting individuals. But fewer people discuss how our words and behaviors in regards to other people shape what our children think of themselves. God knows I am far from a perfect mother, but my hope for myself and others is that as we reflect on our own childhood, we learn to be better parents and role models every day.

I can still remember times that my mother criticised other girls behind their backs and how I, despite her best intentions, turned that criticism inwards. She wasn't talking to or about me, but I saw myself in those other girls. When we criticise the way other people act or dress or behave in an unkind way – we teach our children not only to exclude or to judge other people, but we create insecurities in our children. We send them the message that we look down on certain types of people.

And the truth is, we don't get to choose who our children become. We can help shape their character, but who they are is deep within them and we can't change that. You can make them go to medical school but you can't make them enjoy being a physician. You can tell them to get married but you can't make that marriage work. A "my way or the highway" mentality doesn't usually work unless you have super passive kids and super passive kids never grow up to change the world. But nurturing our children and gently guiding them allows them to build strong roots and to grow.

Remember that flamboyant guy you imitated? … Maybe your son is grappling with his own sexuality. Making fun of that man could end-up delaying your son's ability to come out for years. Don't approve of homosexuality? Well … our nations history shows us that ridiculing it, didn't stop it. People simply stayed "in the closet" and families were hurt because of it. Would you rather your son feel hurt and rejected and carry on a secret lifestyle or would you rather show him respect and tolerance and give him a safe place to call home?

Remember that girl who dresses sexy, who you referred to as "the little hooker"? Your daughter will one day want to look and feel sexy. Do you want her identifying herself as a "hooker" when she does? Or is there a way to channel your reasonable concern and focus on safety and self-respect rather than character, to encourage her to make positive choices in the future?

Remember how you rolled your eyes or giggled at that kid who was dressed "weird". Maybe your kid liked the way he looked and your reaction sent the message that he can't reeaally be himself. Are you sending the message that your kids can only be themselves if it meets your liking?

Remember how you talked about someone or teased them for crying/being fat/not doing something right? Your child was watching … and will likely copy your behavior and do the same to others. …. Even worse, they will choose a mate who behaves like you … and their spouse will be making fun of them for crying, for gaining weight, for not doing something right. Think you're immune?… Then you're about to get served a big 'ol dose of humble pie. Parenting is good for that. Teaching your child that they "Can be anything they want to be!" means nothing if your criticism of others and body language says otherwise.

As a mother, I have had my moments. Sometimes it's hard to teach my teenager that the way they or their classmates are acting is less than ideal without using the words "obnoxious", "ridiculous", "annoying", "attention-seeking", "dumb"…. but I've discovered that "bothersome", "unnecessary", "unkind", "unsafe", and "disrespectful" also convey the message I am trying to send without the dismissive and hurtful tone. It's equally hard not to roll my eyes when they are being dramatic but I'm perfectly okay with "You're going to need to take it down a notch."

Being a parent requires us to always be "on" and I am a work in progress. I wear my emotions on my sleeves and my thoughts seems to drool right out the side of my mouth. But I'm trying. I don't want to cause my children the hurt that I experienced as a child. I don't want them to pretend to be something that they aren't in order to meet my approval and I also don't want them to pull away and rebel because my expectations were too aloof and my rules were too rigid. And yet, I want them to be safe and I want to create the best human beings that I can.

My god, it's hard! Parenting is rarely the beautiful thing I once thought it would be. In fact, it's quite ugly most of the time. But my hope is that my results will one day reflect my efforts. Plenty of times I screw up and say the wrong thing and hurt my children without intending to do so. I am human. I swear like my father and I worry like my mother. I can't change everything or break every generational cycle. But my hope is that the more aware I am of myself and my tendencies, the more I will improve. And if I use the mistakes of my parents as inspiration to do better instead of excuses to repeat them or a reason to be angry, than goodness came from a dark place. And unlike parenting, that is always a beautiful thing.

Posted on

Teaching our Children: Christian Lessons Carried on by a Self-proclaimed Non-believer

holding hands pic

If you follow my blog, you already know that not every behavior my parents modeled for me was a positive one. I challenge you to find one set of parents that did. Despite the dysfunctions that plagued our family, there were also positive aspects to be had. And I fear, I don't often focus on these positives enough.

A large part of my childhood revolved around our church community. And many of the lessons I was taught stemmed from a fairly fundamental view of Christianity. Dr.Dobson was a favorite in our home. If you follow my posts, you already know that religion is no longer something I subscribe to. I think a lot of unhealthy habits and behaviors can easily grow from fundamentalism including exclusion, judgmentalism, revenge ("an eye for an eye"), and even violence and abuse -("spare the rod and spoil the child").

But I think it's only fair to give credit where credit is due. While I have many gripes about my childhood and even more about religion, there were many things that my parents did well. And they used Christianity as the basis for much of it. In a spirit of taking the good with the bad…

Here are some lessons taught by Christians … and carried on by this Non-believer:

 

We always ate dinner together at the table. Meal time was community time. It encouraged family togetherness and conversation and it created an awareness of each other's lives. It's harder to be self-centered and disconnected when you share a meal with someone and are aware of their days' struggles.

It's a practice that I've carried-on in my family today. One of the reasons I continue to work night shift is that it allows us to continue to eat dinner together. Many days it's the only time we all have together. Not hungry? Too bad … you sit at the table anyway. For that 30 minutes we commune as a family. And I've found that often times, that sulking teenager soon has something to share about their day that we wouldn't have otherwise heard.

Thirteen years of dinners we have had together and now the kids are dumb-founded if someone is missing from the table one night. While their growing independence may create a desire to pull away from this tradition, the sense of normalcy surrounding this routine is one I hope they continue to appreciate.

My parents taught me to be a friend to the less fortunate and to appreciate people for their genuineness, not their popularity. My father, in particular, had an affinity for the unusual and less popular kids and he taught me to not only discover their worth, but to celebrate their treasured uniqueness. Most of my childhood, I was friends with the dorks and still am …. dorks usually grow-up to be way cooler than the cheerleaders anyway 😉 Ok ok who's judging now … point taken.

They taught me charity. I remember my mother holding the hand of a homeless man in church once. When everyone else stepped away because he smelled bad, she stepped in. She always volunteered for the projects for the poor. Through her, we learned that there were many people much poorer than we were and that their misfortune was usually due to a history or unfortunate life events and not through some direct fault of their own.

Consequently, I've raised children who sympathize with the less fortunate. They carry extra snacks with them, to pass out to the homeless, every time we go into the city and donating clothes and bagged lunches are monthly practices for us.

They taught us to appreciate the things we had and to take good care of them. It was a lesson in respect for the work it took to buy the things we had. Nothing came free and every gift, no matter how small was to be cherished. I still have quite a few items from my childhood, in good working condition, that I have been able to share with my children. In a world of disposability, I cherish this lesson and continue to teach the same to my children.

Focus on the Family is a Christian ministry that focuses on helping families thrive. Family Game Night was one of the suggestions my Dad took from this and he practiced it regularly with us kids. Being able to escape from the current stressors and focus on something less serious, to spend time together just having fun was crucial to our survival. Some of my favorite memories came from those family game nights and it brought-out a youthfulness in my father that I rarely saw. My mother didn't usually participate on these nights and instead used it as an opportunity to have some "quiet time". As a mother, I now understand that need and have used my disappointment of her absence as a child as an opportunity to understand and improve.

Game night is a common practice in my household and while it is sometimes a challenge to pull my teens/tweens away from the screens, once the game is underway, it is almost always a great success! I love that Game night gives my kids another opportunity to see me as a fun-loving person and not just a parent all the time.

 

Leaving my childhood, there were a lot of things my parents told me to do/not do … and many of them I chose not to subscribe to …. including religion.  Although, my father and sister have also since left the faith. But regardless of where I now stand and what my current beliefs are, I did manage to carry-on many positive practices that were rooted in the church and practiced by my then-completely religious family. And while I still found myself holding on to some bias and judgment and a restricted view of the world, I'm learning to overcome that.

We all have unhealthy examples set for us and the sources or reasons behind them vary. But by hearing people's stories, seeking out different perspectives and being willing to accept that lessons can be learned from so many different places, I have learned how to shed a lot of that bias and yet still hold on to the goodness that came from a religious household.

The same way I learned from my parents to befriend the unusual, to play with my children and be to silly, to appreciate the community of a family meal, to be charitable to those in need and to appreciate the things I have … my children can learn from me. And my hope is that they learn their lessons not just from me, from any source they can.

The world is full of lessons we can learn and opportunities to improve …. regardless of where they come from. If I can learn from the addict, the prisoner and the fallen, then I can learn from the Christian. I am thankful for many of the lessons my parents and my church taught me. I am thankful that they taught me to fight for and believe in my family. I am thankful that given their limited resources, they sure as hell did try to create an intact and happy family. The church and it's teachings are full of good lessons to learn from, even if you don't buy into the whole package, even if you're a non-believer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Watermelon Crush … get Greedy with Summer!

August is upon us!!! My beloved summer is more than half over…. No!!!! (Kicking and screaming) !!!! Why must the summers always go so fast! Well you know what they say about ‘all good things’…. I really need to see about moving somewhere more tropical!

While I can’t change my current state of residency (just yet) and I certainly can’t change the global calendar, I can make the best use of every last day of summer. I can soak in every last drop of warmth and sunshine that I can get myself outside for. I can appreciate the ease that comes with each passing day that I’m not assisting someone with their homework. I can count my blessings for the days that hold no piles of school uniforms to wash. And I can revel in each moment that my wardrobe is smaller and lighter than in any other season.

Soon flip-flops and tank tops will be exchanged for bulky coats and thick boots. And the fresh fruits and veggies we find a-plenty will begin to be replaced by frozen or canned varieties. Schools will resume and the busyness of fall and winter schedules will rob us of our leisurely afternoons on the porch when we can afford to just chit-chat and sip a refreshing beverage with our neighbors.

In the spirit of making the most of the time we have, I suggest you look-up your local county fair schedule, fire up the grill, hop in the pool and indulge yourself in all the yummy summer varietals you can. Before it’s all gone, I hope you get greedy with summer 🙂

And what says summer more than watermelon?!

I tried this cocktail first at an Out-of-the-Darkness charity event and I loved it! This super-easy and yummy cocktail has only 3 ingredients and is the perfect choice for a backyard BBQ or just a day at home with the fam. The kids and non-drinkers can easily make this a mocktail by leaving out the vodka and the whole crowd can enjoy eating the watermelon that’s left over, you’ll have plenty!

Watermelon Crushes

  • Sprite or lemon lime soda
  • Watermelon vodka
  • Watermelon

Fill glass about half way with chunks of watermelon. Muddle the pieces in the glass. Watermelon should now fill about 1/3 the glass.

Add 1/3 cup watermelon vodka.

Top with ice and Sprite.

Done! Easy peasy watermelon squeezy! Enjoy! And happy summer to you all!

Posted on

Learning to love like a Christian and live like an Atheist

cross picFor those that don't know me, I grew up in a devout Catholic home and attended Catholic schools for 12 years. I am now a Humanist/Agnostic but I often use the word "atheist" because I don't care to play semantics and it gets the point across faster. This post isn't meant to incite an argument or to offend anyone. Nor is it an invitation for you to convince me that I'm wrong or invite me to your church because your church isn't like the ones I describe. If religion works for you, enjoy it! Just don't judge me because it no longer works for me. Here are my thoughts and experiences. I hope you find them reason to love more.

"Thou shalt not….."……I memorized them all….all ten. And then there were the beatitudes and the prayers and the rituals of the mass. I've read both the Bible and Catholic Catechism in their entirety. There were family rules and school rules and outside rules. I learned how to altar serve, how to lector, how to be a liturgical dancer and how to earn the Christian Achievment award every year. In many people's eyes, I was the model citizen, the model Catholic, the model child.

People often times ask me why I left the church, "What happened?" Some assume I left because I didn't want to follow their rules any more. Others assume I acquired some unbearable level of shame and that I felt unworthy of returning. Neither of these things are true. The reasons I left are many, though they mainly stem from difficulties I found in church doctrine. My brain and science as I understand it just don't jive with the stories and rules taught by any religion that I have studied. And yes, I've studied quite a few!

But the reason I've separated myself so much from all organized religion and Christianity in particular, is that what I wanted for my life and from my church community more than anything, was to be loved and I wanted to love others in return. I felt like Christianity sold me on an ideal that it didn't deliver and I'm working hard to shed my disappointment from this.

"They will know that we are Christians by our love."… that's true … isn't it?!

I wanted more than anything for this to be true. The bible taught me about a man who didn't judge, who didn't hurt, who had no sin … and yet in my experience, fewer places are filled with as much judgment and as much hurt as the walls people flock to for salvation. Inside the institution I so dedicatedly belonged to, I found myself submersed in a sea of people all pointing their fingers, all criticising and judging one another. Either 'her make-up was too dark', or he 'didn't contribute enough' or she simply wasn't following 'God's ways'. Often the biggest sponsors, the loudest mouths, the most visible faces, were the ones living double lives and I just couldn't take it. They would stand on their pulpit and condemn while in their basement they held boxes upon boxes of sins and secrets. The sins I can forgive, the condemnation of others I can't. Don't get me wrong … the soup kitchens, the clothing drives, the pregnancy centers are all worthy causes. The church has saved many lives. And for some, the structure and community that it offers is irreplaceable. For those, I would never take it away. But there is still so much work to be done within the body of the church; and for me, I have done better without it.

My church taught me to love IT and it taught me to do things to gain God's praise …. but it really didn't teach me to love others, or myself. I wanted God to be happy. I wanted my parents and teachers to be happy and I got so caught up in what the rules were that I failed to truly love. And I'm not alone in this, I'm just more honest than most. For years, I followed this lifestyle, fooling myself that I was happy, that I did love everyone. But there was a storm inside of me …. an unrest. I didn't realize, while I was in the midst of it, just how hard it was for me to love without restraint. There were so many rules that excluded others- homosexuals, atheists, those engaging in premarital sex, divorcees, liberals. And as I left the nest and explored the world as an independent adult, I began to discover that some of the best humans I'd ever met just so happened to live alternative lifestyles, held different beliefs and subscribed to different politics than the ones I was raised to believe were the "one and true". The people I was raised to look down on, to judge, were kinder and more honest humans than the people who sat next to me in church every Sunday.

I had no idea how unhappy and weighted down I was with the judgment of others, until I escaped it.

Maybe it wasn't the church … maybe it was my background … where my parents came from. Maybe it was the church members who were attracted to me because of my role-model status, who were fundamental in their beliefs. Maybe it was me. A degree of self-centeredness and a lack of perspective is common in childhood, I believe. I suppose it's also common for it to carry into adulthood for a time. Maybe my loss of religion and gain of love for humanity was just 'maturity' and my faith was just a coincidental and unfortunate casualty.

Wherever their origin, those judgments clung to me and hung from my neck like weights. Until, through my own adult journey, I learned to disrobe them. You ask me why? Why I left?… Why I changed?… Why I still get angry at the church sometimes? Because the moment  I became aware of my own judgement towards others, I felt the burden I was carrying and it became unbearable. It cut into my neck and I struggled tirelessly to rid myself of it. Every day I looked for a new perspective, a new understanding, a new love. I was tired of hating my fellow man because he didn't follow the rules I was taught. I was tired of being a part of a community that spent more time telling people what they should and should not do than simply loving them.

And I was tired of being loved conditionally. I was a "good girl". I wore my medallions and walked to church … before school even! I studied my faith every day for 12 years and I subscribed to what I knew was "holy". Their words instructed me to be honest, to respect, to obey and to be faithful. I knew what they wanted to see and I gave it to them. I thrived on positive reinforcement and I longed for structure. And I did it, knowing that if I didn't, they'd dismiss me like all the rest. I did it, because I wanted to be loved and I wanted to feel worthy. My home life was nothing for people to be proud of … nor were my academics … I was an average student; But my dedication to my faith made people proud. And I loved that.

As I began to venture outside of the church community, I expected the world to eat me alive. Afterall, that's what I was taught would happen; instead, they accepted me. Outside the walls of the sanctuary, I learned that I was loved and I was worthy, regardless of the medallions and the commandments and the mass schedule. Wearing short shorts, using swear words, having a sex life … didn't take away from the fact that I was kind and generous and honest. My worth wasn't based on those things anymore. Outside the church community, I could help people and still be "me". And I could do so without the sideways glances and the whispers and the disappointment. And believe you me, those whispers are deafening when its you that they talk about.

Without a church, I learned how to love like a Christian and live as an Atheist.

I am lighter now and yet I still carry a heaviness in my heart because so many still don't understand their hypocrisy. They don't understand the unspoken lessons they carved into my soul and the journey I took to erase them. What I would like them to know, what I'd like them to see, is that its the way they treat everyone else that speaks volumes. It doesn't take a saint to love babies and it's only human to feel compassion for the homeless and the destitute. But what about the un-holy, the un-faithful, the falling but not quite hitting rock bottom yet? Do you work as hard to catch someone when they're slipping as you do after they've hit rock bottom. It's not hard to help someone when they've got nowhere else to turn … but what about when they have a choice? Will you love them just the same if they fail to subscribe to your teachings?

What I want the church to know is that its walls are filled with little girls and boys who are watching. I was once that little girl and I learned the most by watching. Every time someone shook their head at that "other girl", I learned how to pass judgement on her. With every patronizing giggle, I was taught to feel insecure and inadequate. When they were "embarrassed for her" and "felt sorry for her mother", I knew they'd one day be embarrassed of me and I felt sorry for myself. When they said they were "proud" that I "wasn't like her", I saw myself in her. They ministered to the poor and yet they abandoned the girl next-door. Silently, not so silently they taught me. They said they were "proud" of me … but the conditioning had already been set, my sense of self-worth already tarnished. "Be yourself" they said …"but not like that". "I've never judged you", they said, but I'd watched them judge the world and I was afraid they wouldn't love who I really was.

They told me that if I laid with a man who had failed to put a ring on my hand, it only meant that he would leave me. Girls that did that were trashy whores. Only men worthy of waiting with me, were worthy of marrying me. It was a valid possibility, but when pounded and pounded with no other alternative it seemed to be an absolute truth. So when I did lay with a man prior to marriage, my expectations were set. And when he did leave, I felt nothing. They told me so. To avoid the hurt, I learned to be defiant and then to be numbed.  I didn't know then, that the man who would fulfill all my dreams, would be a sinner just like me …. and that he wouldn't leave, but instead beg to stay.

They taught me that while abortion was a grave sin, sex before marriage was also a unnegotiable one. And so without instruction or even self-awareness, I learned as a child to look for a ring when I saw a gravid belly. When the un-wed in our community ended up pregnant, we were embarrassed for them … less concerned because of the difficulties their future would hold in education or love or finance, but embarrassed because it was evident that they had sinned. That evidence which stuck out in front of them, a round belly, for the whole world to see and pity, held a miracle … but people only saw that when they stood outside the abortion clinic. Despite leaving the church several years before, when my own bare hands held my own swollen belly,  I felt ashamed. And it left me pretending to be something that I wasn't – either unashamed or betrothed.

With the storm brewing inside of me, I felt like a wild animal who was tethered. Pulling, pulling, I broke free and when I did, I ran, never to go back to that place again. I don't want to be a Christian anymore – but I want to love like one is supposed to. It is my journey to understand not to judge. To listen and to forgive, not to justify. To see and to help, not to turn my head. To lend a hand with no expectations of changing ones beliefs. The world as a whole is a much larger picture than one altar. And I am better person because I cut the ties that taught me to judge and learned to love without rules.

This atheist is going to show to world how to love …. like a Christian should. And if I do, if I can learn to love all people without restraint, including the Christian, than their god tells me, they will see who I am. And I guess that's all I really wanted …. to be seen and loved for who I really am and for others to love in return.

 

 

Posted on

Cold Soup

soup smaller

A head on collision with a 100 mph impact, divorce, tragic death, health issues that leave life-long scars, low economic status, cycles of abuse and dysfunction, victimization due to both environment and intentional assault…

What do these events do to a person? Who does one become? Tell me, how is one changed by them? Because they will change you. Forever.

Well, of course one could become cynical and bitter, lose their sense of self and sense of hope. They could develop tunnel-vision – an over-compensation of one’s traumatic life experiences that lead a person to see only one outcome for a particular experience and therefore make over- generalizations and judgements of others. They could continue their dysfunctional cycles because that is what they were shown, what they were taught. We see it all the time… you can picture the people and hear their words now. “It’s not my fault…”, “That’s the way I was raised….”, “It’s because when I was a kid…”
dot…dot…dot…

Or, one could in the face adversity and trauma, turn away, run, crawl and hide from life experiences and possibilities – in an effort to avoid being hurt again. That is a very real and natural, self-preserving trauma reaction, that without intervention could lead to a loss of one’s will to live. And challenging life experiences could be used to justify those actions and attitudes. It’s understandable. Life can be cruel and at times there seems to be no sign of improvement in sight.

This insight shouldn’t be used as an excuse to judge others for their life choices but an opportunity to hold our own selves accountable. No one experiences life the same or has the same genetic make-up. And therefore, don’t bother drawing comparisons.

We all have scars. We all have left-overs … remnants from our past that bubble-up or sneak-in… giving those who happen to be watching close a peep-hole view of the world we came from, behind the doors we thought we had closed behind us. No one comes away from a battle unscathed and we ALL have a story.

 

The point is, what you do with your story.

 

I remember a time when I walked into a patient’s room and she and her husband were eating soup, cold, out of a can.… cream based soup at that! Horrified, I said “Oh no, we have a microwave!” “We know”… they said, “its fine, we’re used to eating it like this.”

Now, those who know me, know I am direct but curious and never approach with the intent of making a judgment but instead, of gaining insight. And … I have the biggest mouth in the universe. So, I inquired, “What makes one start eating soup out of a can, cold? I’m just curious … and why would you choose that when you have a microwave available?”

The husband’s demeanor changed immediately. A smugness and attitude crept in. “We didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Sometimes this is what we could afford and we just got used to eating our food cold.” And then he made some vague reference to his days spent in college dorms and eating cheap food.

I knew in that moment, he saw the little blond registered nurse standing in front of him and he thought we came from very different places. I’m sure he thought I grew up in high society – with my highlights and big vocabulary and BSN. Fact is, when I was growing up, we couldn’t afford canned soup. My mom fed our family of 6 for days with a ham bone and a bag of dried beans …. probably from the church pantry. But it was heated and eaten at the table with dishes – the same set of dishes for 20 years that some relative handed down to us, because that was cheaper than paper plates. And we hand-washed them because we had no dish-washer. And I never had the privilege of living in a dorm. I paid for my college degree myself and commuted back and forth in between my four jobs in order to do so.

I knew exactly what it was like to ‘go without’… but that was no excuse for not striving for better. Eating cold soup straight from the can is lazy. And lazy has not a thing to do with economics. That’s what I wanted to say… I wanted to tell him not to use poverty and background as an excuse for continued choices and behaviors …. but I couldn’t.

Instead I very calmly and quietly said, “Yeah … me too … I grew up without money too. It was hard. At least we always had a fire source though and I didn’t have to eat food cold.” He was speechless and I just left the room.

Maybe some people like canned-soup cold and maybe they don’t want to dirty dishes. That wasn’t the point of that story. Had that man stated those reasons for his choices, I wouldn’t have had a judgment or an argument to make. He likes it, period! And that’s fine. Your past will always tint your future, but don’t use it as an excuse to keep buying the same color. Yesterday, you could have gone the extra mile to heat your food, with or without a microwave. Today, you have a microwave.

 

Cynical. Cyclical. Defeated. A victim ……… OR ……… Learned. Experienced. Diverse. Hard-working. Resilient. Fortuned with varied experiences. Gained perspective. A survivor. A conqueror.

The choice is yours.

What do challenging experiences lead to? How are you changed by them?

I can only tell you what I’ve tried to do. And I am flawed. My personality is a strong one and it’s not for everybody. Those experiences I listed up top in my intro…the ones that change people…they happened to me…and not just once. Many of them happened enough times or for enough time that they left scars. I don’t let my scars define me but I don’t cover them up either. They are a beautiful part of me and how I have evolved. I acknowledge them. I ponder them. I work on them – to keep them soft and pliable, not hard and rigid. They are reminders of a past and experiences that I learned from.

What will you do?

Will you run away? Or will you fight? Will you hide? Or will you seek an opportunity for success? Will you use fear as an excuse or a goal to overcome? Will your lack of perspective be a crutch or a reason to go explore?

What have my experiences taught ME?

They’ve taught me that tomorrow is promised to no one. That everyone has a story, and if you sit long enough with someone – they’ll tell you. That you never really know ‘what you would do’, until you’re there. They’ve shown me that kindness and goodness show up in the most unlikely of places. And that those two things, matter more than just about anything. I’ve learned that anger is a normal and an often immediate response but it can be controlled. And time and introspection is the best healer. I know that I can’t change my past … but I can accept it and learn from it … and further, I can learn to appreciate it for what good it has given me. Because there is some amount of good in everything.

And I am still learning, that like my past … I can’t change people and people don’t owe me anything. But, I can choose to learn from them, and to accept them as they are and I can relish in whatever goodness they have to offer. My life is a gift to me and I have one shot at it. So I’m choosing not to be a victim but a conqueror, an adventurer, a seeker, a student.

Many years after my youth, I own my own home … and it doesn’t have a dishwasher. Instead, I married a man who doesn’t mind hand washing in the least. Occasionally I do buy paper plates for convenience. And I never eat cold soup unless its gazpacho. And I eat it in a chilled bowl with fresh avocado on top because damn it, it’s delicious. And life should be filled with as many moments of deliciousness as we can fit in …. not laziness … just deliciousness.

Posted on

Come y Calla

saucepan pic

 

“¡Come! ¡Y Calla!” … It’s what we call dinner when we don’t know what to call it!

My husband, a refugee of sorts, who grew up in Chilé and left during the dictatorship of Pinochet was familiar with the concept of “making do”. His childhood taught him to follow this notion in all things. Stray socks from the neighborhood kids and some twine became a soccer ball. Scrap materials became household fixes. Shoes were repaired not replaced. You never bought seeds to grow more food … you saved and grew your own from the food that you just ate.

And dinner, was whatever grandma could put together.

If at the table, staring down at your plate, you found the dish to be one you couldn’t recognize and you dared ask her what it was … she would inevitably always respond – “Come y Calla”.

It translates from Spanish to “Shut-up and Eat”.

So of course the day would come in our little American family of 4 that money would be tight and groceries low and I would have to come up with something. Staring at this chunk of ham, this half bag of frozen corn, a stray onion down in the bin, part of a wilted green pepper and a loaf of bread … I wondered, what in the hell I was going to make for dinner.

Blessed with internet access, a creative mind and a raging appetite “Creamed Ham and Corn over Toast” was born in the Meneses household. And when the kids … just babes then, looked down at their plate with some slop over toast, they inevitably asked “What’s this?” And before I could apologize or ask for forgiveness or better yet, come up with a name … my husband piped up- “It’s called Come y Calla”. “Mmmmm…”, my wee-sized daughter remarked as she took her first bite, “… this Come-Calla is good!”

And so “Come Y Calla” transposed another generation. Since that day, Come y Calla has taken on many forms when pantry oddities, refrigerator and freezer scraps were turned into meals.

When all you have is a bag of onions and stale bread and cheese, check the spice cabinet – if you’ve got beef bouillon – you’ve got French Onion Soup for dinner. Save your carcasses from a ham, turkey or chicken dinner … boil those suckers and make soup. An orange in the fruit bowl, a head of lettuce and those hard noodle things that come with Chinese carry-out make a ‘good enough’ asian salad – especially if you have orange marmalade in the fridge to throw together with vinegar, some spices and olive oil for a vinaigrette. Panzanella salad is a great way to use up that french bread loaf that got stale and is now hard as a brick – combined with tomatoes, mozzarella and whatever other veggies need to be used up in the fridge. And zucchini fritters or zucchini bread are great ways to use up those giant, tough- skinned zucchini you grew in the garden because you didn’t harvest often enough.

Learning to “make-do” is a life-long skill that carries life-long pay backs. Saving money and resources is an obvious benefit, but taking on creative challenges, expanding your food horizons and boosting your confidence in cooking are the much more delicious by-products of thrifty food creations. And what if it’s a flop? Who cares….it was left overs…you’ve probably had worse meals that you’ve PAID for. And if nothing else, it’s a story to laugh about later.

Now more advanced in their ages, the kids have started to question the dinner title when “Come y Calla” comes around again. “This is Come y Calla?….. I thought Come y Calla was something else.” We play along and then my husband and I exchange a secretive wink. They don’t know what it translates to. One day they will and they’ll probably feel some injustice has been done to them. But after they get over it… I hope they see that Mommy did her best. And that some of the best meals we had were surprises that came from the days when we had the least.

Below are a few of my “Come y Calla” recipes … ones that ended up a hit and I jotted down. But don’t go shopping. The point of “Come y Calla” is to find your own hidden treasures waiting to be created. And when you manage to create a good one … you’ll be more proud of that dish than you are of the gourmet meal you spent a fortune to create. Because you saved your family money AND created goodness from scraps. Not to mention … perfecting this skill will make you a valuable asset in the zombie apocalypse 😉

If you’re looking for additional inspiration, Rachel Ray has some fun “Bottom of the Jar” ideas to use up the last morsels of condiments in the fridge. There are also some fun websites that allow you to plug-in the foods you have on hand and use a database to search for recipes using these ingredients. These websites can also help you to discover good swap-outs if you don’t have a particular ingredient on-hand but want to go forward with the recipe anyway.

Here are several of the top “search by ingredients”/recipe creation websites:

http://www.supercook.com/#/recipes

http://www.recipematcher.com
http://www.recipepuppy.com
http://www.cookthing.com
http://myfridgefood.com

Amanda’s Come y Calla recipes:

Creamed Ham and Corn

Ingredients:

1 cup of cubed ham
1/2 small onion, diced
1/4 green pepper diced
2 handfuls of frozen corn
2 TBS flour
1-2 cups milk

3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped

garlic powder, chicken bouillon, Worcestershire sauce, black pepper for seasoning

-Sauté cubed ham and veggies in butter until the veggies soften and the onion is lightly browned.
-Season sautéed ham and veggies with a dash of garlic powder, 1/2 tsp chicken bouillon, 1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, and crushed black pepper.
-Add 2 TBS flour to milk. Whisk.
-Pour milk and flour into ham and veggies mixtures. Stir until it thickens.
-Add the chopped hard-boiled eggs and mix into ham and veggie mixture.

Serve over toast or biscuits

Shrimp and Grits

Ingredients:

1 cup dry grits
2 cups milk
1 cup shredded cheese-whatever you have
1 bell pepper, chopped
1/2 medium onion, chopped or sliced
2 cloves garlic sliced
1 large sausage-preferably uncooked and pulled out of casing or crumbled
1 lb uncooked shrimp
seasonings: 1 tsp chicken bouillon, black pepper, garlic powder, swirl of olive oil, sprinkle of old bay, drizzle of hot sauce, splash of beer
eggs if you have them

In a pot, boil 2 cups of milk and 2 cups of water with chicken bouillon. Add grits. Stir occasionally. Add black pepper and garlic powder. Once grits are soft and cooked, stir in shredded cheese. Remove from heat.
In a saucepan, add olive oil, bell pepper, onion, garlic and sausage. Sauté, crumbling sausage and mixing with veggies as you go. Add shrimp. Cook just until pink.
Stir in Old Bay, hot sauce, beer if you have it and cook just a few more minutes.
Spoon the sausage, pepper, onion, shrimp mixture over the cheese grits and serve with fried or poached eggs.

 

Stay Happy, Stay Healthy!

Posted on

Mango Mojitos…add an element of fun to your every day!

Mary Poppins, my favorite character of all time says, “With every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. Find the fun … and snap … the job’s a game.” This saying is painted on a sign that sits on my desk.

When the kids started fighting and I looked around to see myself surrounded by a messy house and laundry mountains that reached my waist … I was faced with two choices … I could lose my shit, scream at everybody and make everyone’s day hell with a list of chores that they’d hate and I’d hate following-up on –or– I could find a way to salvage the day. I decided to go for the later. I sent one child outside to run a couple of laps around the yard and told him to pick me a couple of sprigs of mint while he was out there. I told my other child that she had 30 more minutes of free time and then we were going to start family laundry time. Advanced warning on chores always works better than “right now!”

Despite a couple of eye rolls, miraculously, it worked! While the littlest one ran around, I ran to the fruit bowl and the bar and began chopping mangos. By the time he returned with my mint, I was ready to complete my cocktail. They finished their free-time while I sat outside and had a mini-vacay, soaking in the fresh air and the sun while I sipped rum infused mango and mint. I felt like I was on a tropical island instead of in the suburbs. It was delicious!

Because motherhood can’t be all play …. I poured a second one to accompany my laundry-folding extravaganza. By then, the kids knew the expectation. We took over the living room with a laundry sorting game and they used team work to carry each load downstairs. Teaching them how to sort not just colors but also fabric weights and showing them how enormously annoying it is to inside-out everyone’s dirty socks are also life lessons, LOL. I let them go back outside while the first two loads washed and dried and then we put on a movie while we folded and rotated the remaining loads. They sipped smoothies while I sipped mojitos. We finished all of the laundry and no one managed to die 🙂 They carried all their laundry to their rooms on their way to bed.

Some days parenting is just surviving …. but other days, if we’re lucky and we play our cards right …. it’s a task well done, it’s a game well-played and it’s a cocktail mixed just right!

Mango Mojitos

Ingredients:

  • 1 whole fresh mango
  • 2 limes
  • 3 sprigs mint
  • 1 TBS agave
  • 3 oz white rum
  • seltzer water

IMG_3785

 

  • Peal and chop mango into a tall container or blender

IMG_3787

  • Squeeze two limes into the chopped mango
  • Add the leaves of two mint sprigs 
  • Add 1 TBS agave
  • Blend with an immersion blender or traditional blender

Blend well for a smooth drink with minced mint or blend lightly to be left with chunks of mango and a few mint leaves to chew on. Your choice, your life, Live it!

IMG_3788

  • Mix 3 oz white rum into the mango, mint, lime purée
  • Divide the purée into two tall glasses and top with seltzer

IMG_3789

  • Add ice and garnish with a sprig of mint
  • Enjoy!