Author: amandameneses0101@gmail.com

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It’s Strawberry Season! Let’s drink!

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Motherhood and Nursing alike call us to be many things. We are called to be patient and loving care-givers, be it for a skinned-knee or a laboring woman. We are called to be resilient, in the face of the worst tantrum or nastiest patient despite our sleep deprivation and empty belly. We are urged to use creativity, for those ridiculous school projects or an unconventional way to hang an IV bag without a pole.  We are the hardest workers, building and saving lives and yet we are asked to be financially responsible and cut costs wherever we can. So, for you all you parents and nurses and anyone who needs a little sweet amongst the saltiness …. Take advantage of the sweet fruit that is cheap and in season. Make yourself a drink and leave out the booze if you’re a cheap date or pour it extra heavy if it’s just one of those days … nobody’s here to judge! All of these recipes leave room to play and I think I’ve covered just about every major alcohol type except whiskey. So, there’s something for everyone!

Here are the favorite strawberry drink recipes of mine and my friends and family!  (plus a few goodies I researched) :

My go-to summer drink: Gin and Tonic with fresh strawberries

  • Tonic water and Gin mixed to taste with a slice of lime and fresh sliced strawberries over ice….if Gin is too grown-up for you, sub out Vodka 😉

From my sweet English friend Therese: An English summer spritzer

  • Mix Pimm’s and Sprite to taste with sliced cucumber and strawberries

From Kathy, a veteran nurse and mother: Strawberry Shortcake

  • Frozen strawberries, vanilla ice cream, amaretto, ice cubes. Blend ( don’t measure, recipe to taste and drink like a milk shake ).

From Gretchen, my super hip Nurse/Mom-friend: Strawberry Mojitos

  • In a glass, muddle 3 strawberries, 1 TBS of simple syrup and a few mint leaves
  • Add a shot of white rum, then ice, then top with seltzer water to taste

From Colleen, my doggie rescue go-to: Strawberry-infused Tequila

  • Using a small-medium sized glass bowl or a glass carafe, fill the bowl half-way with whole, fresh strawberries then cover with tequila.
  • Cover bowl and place in fridge for 4 or more days.
  • After the four+ days drain off the tequila. You now have strawberry-infused tequila which you can drink alone or mix with lemonade and garnish with fresh fruit.
  • And if you were me, you’d also eat the drunken strawberries 🙂

From my hot Chilean husband: Borgona (Chilean style sangria)

  • Chop 1-2 cups of fresh strawberries and sprinkle with 1-2 TBS sugar, let sit 20 min
  • Once strawberries have sat and absorbed the sugar, add 1 bottle of either white or red wine in a pitcher or glass carafe, add more sugar to taste
  • Chill and serve when cold. Will keep several days in the fridge.

From some internet searches and my own inspiration: Strawberry Moscow Mules

  • In a pot, simmer 1/3 cup sugar and 1/3 cup water until sugar dissolves
  • To the simmering pot, add 1 cup of chopped fresh strawberries and mash with a fork while simmering another 10 min.
  • Remove pot from heat and cool
  • Squeeze 1 lime into the cooled strawberry mixture
  • Take 1/2 cup of this mixture and add vodka and ginger beer to taste; serve with ice
  • *another version includes adding basil to the heated strawberry mixture

Inspired by Crazy for crust: Strawberry Shortcake Mimosas

  • In a glass, add a spoonful of chopped strawberries, a scoop of strawberry ice cream or sorbet, a shot of vanilla vodka and top with Prosecco (sweet sparkling wine) or Champaign to taste

From myincrediblerecipes.com: Strawberry Moonshine

  • In a pot, heat 4 cups of sugar with 12 cups of water until sugar is dissolved, remove from heat and cool
  • Add 1 1/2 cups of pureed strawberries and 4 cups of fresh lemon juice to the cooled sugar-water. Then add 5 cups of Everclear
  • Mix and pour into mason jars, let sit in refrigerator for 2 weeks
  • Can drink as-is or mix into lemonade etc.
  • Note: Everclear is grain alcohol and carries a very high alcohol content

From dessertfortwo.com: Strawberry Rose Gin Fizz

  • Sprinkle a handful of strawberries with sugar, let sit for 10 min then mash
  • Shake the sweetened strawberries, 4 shots of gin, 1 tsp of rose water and a pinch of salt with ice
  • Pour into 2 glasses and top with seltzer. Serve with a slice of lime.

 

Enjoy!

Because life is short, work is hard … and strawberries aren’t always in season!

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Kids and Pets

Growing up, we really didn’t have any business owning a bunch of animals. My parents had enough expenses trying to maintain a household with four kids. The household chores too, were heavy enough without creatures to add to the mix. And with six people living in a small four bedroom home, we had plenty of human interaction to keep anyone from getting lonely or bored. As a rule, I do believe human interaction should be enough. We shouldn’t need animals to learn certain lessons or to possess certain personality traits. If we find ourselves in a place where we are lacking in these areas, we should probably be more proactive in finding more and better human interaction. So, when we as children wanted to have animals it would have been completely understandable and acceptable for my parents to deny us them.

And yet when my siblings and I found the orphaned kittens under my Grandmother’s shed, my Mother let us bring two of them home. She took them to the vet and had them treated for their numerous parasites and “Frisky” and “Elizabeth” were loved until their death. When an Avon customer of my Mom’s needed to re-home 3 hamsters….we took them. “Shark”, and his two mistresses created more hamsters…and we loved them too…until we found them homes and learned to keep Shark in a separate cage. Lizards, frogs, a gerbil, more rescued street cats, some pretty cool fish, a snake, a guinea pig and an eventual a dog…were all loved pets in the household. Now that I look back on it…most of our childhood pets were rescues too. I guess that’s where I learned to rescue……(funny how reflection leads to discovery).

Now, as an adult, I can honestly look back and think we could’ve done a better job. The rodents cages always stunk and the cats always ended up with fleas. How? I have no idea…they were inside cats. But I suppose they didn’t have “Frontline” back then. Vet bills were the last things my parents needed when they were trying to pay for 4 kids clothes and food….but they always paid them. And we always loved those animals. My Mom tried to stay on us about the litter and bedding changes and my Dad did his best to accommodate our requests for this animals or that….but they would’ve been in their right to say “No” more often. I’m glad they didn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I in no way condone anything less than superior care of animals. They are living creatures and they deserve the best that we can give. We, as adults, must know our abilities and limits and decide accordingly, what we are capable of handling. And still, I’m glad my parents said “yes” so often; because having animals taught us a lot.

Animals taught us responsibility. Caring for the animals was always on the chore list. Each of us always had an animal that we were responsible for feeding or a cage that we were required to clean. Our animals relied on us to provide for them and we were expected to follow through.

They taught us compassion and empathy. When our rescues were in need of a home, we observed a sacrifice to make room, to find money, to make it happen so that the animals weren’t put down. When they were sick or had surgery we understood that they were hurting and we knew to be extra tender with them. And when it was time to say our good-byes, it was always done with sincerity and respect. And each little critter received a respectful burial.

They taught us patience and tolerance. Sometimes animals bite. Sometimes, animals don’t listen to our command. Often times, animals make messes. Despite these behaviors, we were taught to always be kind. While dogs can be trained, you can’t control an animal’s every-move anymore than you can control humans. We learned to meet them where they were. New animals needed time and space to acclimate.Teasing or torturing animals in any way was never acceptable in our house.

They taught us diversity. Wherever they fell in the animal kingdom…each creature had its own needs. Reptiles, mammals, fish, furry or scaly, snuggly or quick…we were taught to care for everybody that came into our home, whatever those needs might be. We were taught not to tap on the glass of an aquarium-the sound is deafening to fish and stressful for them. We learned that lizards and frogs don’t enjoy being held by human hands and were best observed from the other side of the tank. Hamsters and gerbils need frequent, gentle handling to remain docile. Snakes need heat, a secure enclosure and a place to hide. Cats need space and dogs need exercise. Whatever the animal was, we learned that they had different needs.

They taught us to love. We were taught that every life mattered. Everyone deserved to be loved and respected. We learned to see the beauty in the face of a reptile just as much as the face of a cat or dog. And a powerful thing happens when you teach a child that both a mouse and a snake are worthy of love. You teach them that all life matters and yet you instill an honesty about the cycle of life and a respect for the life that was sacrificed for the other life to continue. When a child feels the pangs of a life that is lost but understands that that life is allowing another life to continue…that’s a universal lesson being taught.

They gave us love. Growing up is hard. Sometimes, even those closest to us let us down. But if we treat our pets right, they will always love us unconditionally. I remember many days grabbing a cat and unloading my daily woes into their fur, wet with my tears. I talked to the hamsters and gerbils too. And no one will ever love you like a dog will.

They taught us perspective. The cats approached us on their terms and usually maintained an arm’s-length distance…. cautious lovers, I call them. The dogs could never get enough love and were always in our face, they thrived on attention. The reptiles provided the opportunity for quiet reflection. Watching their every move from the other side of the glass one could imagine what it must be like to be them. They appreciated their solidarity. The hamsters always huddled together, they valued community. Each animal gave us a different perspective on what it must be like to be them. No one was quite the same and yet they all had biological reasons why they behaved the way they did. And regardless of their needs and wants, we loved them all the same.

  • Interestingly, scientists, psychologists and researchers also seem to feel that animals      hold the potential for positive outcomes in children and people as a whole and it has been studied quite a bit. It’s no surprise that animal friendly sites such a ‘Pet Partners’ would have research to back their claims; but even Parenting and Time magazine have published several articles (URLs listed at end of article) discussing the effects of animals on children. They too, cite numerous accounts and studies which have found a positive correlation when children are taught to care for and are exposed in a positive way to animals. These benefits have been cited as providing a “buffer against loneliness” and encouraging cooperative behaviors, learned sharing, an increased awareness of non-verbal communication, encouraging social interaction with others through the shared experience of owning a pet and empathy. –

So while animals are in no way necessary and human interaction should be “enough”, animals still hold the potential to help us learn character traits that aid us in our interactions with humans. If we can learn to have empathy for a homeless or ailing pet than we can learn to have empathy for humans who are in need. If we can learn as a child, the various needs of different pets, then we should be able to understand that people have different needs too. No one fits into the same box. No one grows the same way. No one requires the same, uses the same, loves the same. And if we can learn to love a pet that occasionally hurts us and doesn’t always listen then we can learn to forgive a friend who too might hurt or disregard us.

It would only be fitting that I’d carry the same tradition of saving and loving animals into my family. And thus, the Meneses Zoo has slowly developed. Two dogs, a cat, a rabbit, snake and fish living with us now….a frog, a kitten and a hamster buried in the backyard. Now it’s my turn to fuss after the kids to feed, water, tend to. It’s my turn to educate and to model. And it’s my hope that they learn …. responsibility, compassion, patience, diversity and love. And it’s also my hope that despite how hard I try to be the best parent I can be, that when I fail, they find solace in the unconditional love of the warm bodies they call their pets.
Like my parents, I should probably say “no” more often. But I do believe ( and science supports) that children have a natural propensity to love animals and I choose to invest in that. I choose to use these creatures to teach my children that everyone has different needs and different desires. That beauty is found in many forms. That you are obligated to care for those who rely on you. That there is always someone who is willing to listen. And that if you treat someone right, they should always love you back. And it’s my hope that my children will one day show their kids the magic of saving a kitten from the streets, the power in learning to handle a snake, the strength of training a dog and commanding its respect and the compassion and love it takes to end it’s suffering and celebrate its short life. It’s my hope that my kids, like me, like my parents will continue to say “yes”.

 

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Links to articles supporting the effects of animals on children:

https://petpartners.org/learn/benefits-human-animal-bond/

http://www.parents.com/parenting/pets/kids/pets-good-for-kids/

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Pineapple Mojitos

Like most nurses, I work 12 hour shifts and I usually work my shifts back-to-back. Working those long shifts in the hospital keeps me removed from the weather outside. In the winter, it’s not so bad. But in the summer, I miss the sunshine and fresh air and my body starts craving vitamin D. This weekend was one of those stretches where I worked 48 hours in 4 days. I ended my stretch of days with a particularly difficult shift that reminded me of the fragility of life and the blessing that my children are, regardless of how difficult they may sometimes be.

Yesterday was my night off and with the weather warming-up now, you can bet I was ready to be outside! My husband loves mojitos and we had a pineapple sitting on the counter that needed to be used. 15 minutes of prep and 20 min to make some syrup and ..

… Voila!!!  Pineapple mojitos to celebrate a night at home, together! Delicious!

I ordered some carry-out, left my phone and the screens in the house and brought the speakers outside to listen to some Beatles music. The kids played with the neighbors while my husband and I sat outside and chatted. We even ate our dinner outside. Those are the moments that make life worth living …. the moments that we slow down and just enjoy where we are and who we have in our lives. This fresh summer cocktail was the perfect accompaniment to have in our hands while soaking in the last rays of sun for the day and appreciating the life that we have.

A couple suggestions:

If you like mojitos or mint juleps and you’re not growing your own mint … start! You can pick up a pot at any nursery or Home Depot/Lowes for a couple bucks. Plant it in an inconspicuous spot in the yard because it grows like a weed or in a pot on your porch. You’ll have fresh mint for the rest of your life! It comes back every year, the bugs never bother it and you can use it for a variety of food and drink recipes.

Also, if you’re unsure about this mojito recipe or you are counting your sugar intake … consider ladling the rum mixture into your glass first and then adding the pineapple syrup one tablespoon at a time, for each drink (rather than to mix the whole batch). You can control the sweetness that way. And, if this recipe is not your favorite … you can strain the pineapple out of the syrup and you have pineapple infused simple syrup to use for another cocktail like a pineapple martini 🙂

Lastly, if your kids are around and they like pineapple, you’d better buy two! This recipe uses 3/4 of a whole pineapple and it’s possible that you might just hear some complaints that you’re using “All that pineapple to make a drink!!!!” LOL

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  • 1 fresh, ripe pineapple, skinned and chopped
  • 2 Tbs brown sugar
  • large handful of fresh mint
  • 1 1/4 cup white rum
  • 4 oz lime juice (about 6 limes-squeezed)
  • Seltzer

Makes 4 drinks

  1. Cut the rind off of the pineapple and cut the flesh into chunks
  2. In a pan, add half of the chopped pineapple, 2 cups of water and 2 Tbs brown sugar. Stirring occasionally, simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is reduced by half-takes about 20-30 min. This will become your pineapple syrup.

IMG_35733.  While the pineapple syrup is simmering, muddle another 1/4 of the fresh chopped pineapple and all but 4 sprigs of mint. I used a mortar and pestle but any pot and mashing tool would suffice.

IMG_35744.  Once the pineapple and mint are mashed, add the rum and lime juice. Muddle some more.

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  1.  Once the pineapple syrup is done and has cooled a bit, add the pineapple syrup with the soft, cooked pineapple to the rum mixture. Mash a bit more. -OR- if you want to control the sugar, add the rum mixture to your glass and add syrup a little at a time.

  2.  Ladle over ice and top with seltzer. Garnish with a sprig of mint.

 

(I found the original recipe on the Food and Wine website and then modified it to meet my tastes. This is my modified version.)

 

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The Sculptor (a letter to my children)

Forward: This Mother’s Day tribute likens mothers to sculptors and children to clay. Using our experience, knowledge and imagination we begin with a vision for our creation and by applying and releasing pressure we attempt to create what we envisioned. Mothers, like artists however, soon learn that most art pieces don’t end up exactly the way they were originally intended. Mistakes and unexpected turns change what you were trying to create … and the result is beautiful none-the-less. I wrote this from my own perspective as I am entering the journey of mothering a teenager, but the thoughts apply to all. Wherever you are in your journey of mothering may you appreciate the journey ahead and the journey your own mother took. Might every mother take the opportunity to stand back and marvel at their creation today because with all of its flaws and imperfections it is beautiful and has bettered the world. Might every child take a moment to not just honor the person who with immense dedication tried their best to create goodness but might they also see her in all her honesty and humility and know that she came to you with no instruction.

Happy Mother’s Day to all!

clay photo

I see you,

…. in all of your beautiful, growing glory. I relish in the person you are becoming, my own contribution to the world. The clay I’ve so dedicatedly tried to mold, once a soft mound of innocent impression in my hands, now gives way to detailed features as your person takes shape. My heart soars as you stand taller and taller yet, and the world begins to notice your presence and strength. I see you.

See me.

The sculptor, apron on and chisel in hand, smoothing every bump, carving every line. Sleepless nights and endless days, constantly working to give my creation life. For so long, the view seemed to flow in one direction: my vision for you. But here, stepping back a moment to gaze at you, I can see that the day is fast approaching that your eye sight will clear and you will begin to see me. A perspective that goes both ways now. The powerful innocence of childhood emblazoned me in your eyes, and I shone like a star. But that light is breaking and soon you will begin to see me more as the ordinary and flawed human being that I am and less as the illustrious sculptor you’ve idolized. As your adolescence blossoms further into adulthood, my wisdom and abilities will begin to deflate and I will no longer hold the weight and the endless inspiration you once saw. But I am always here. See me.

Be patient with me.

As the figure you’re coming to visualize begins to change … the reflection I see of myself too, will morph. I am coming to see my inner self, once again, raw and unencumbered. Like Cinderella at midnight, whose ball-gown turned to rags as promised … I too will emerge from this fantasy reminded of who I once was. Not the world-renowned artist you thought I was, but a girl. A girl who had a dream and when handed clay, accepted it. And though that girl always sat within me, just below the surface … seeing her again through the reflection in your eyes is painful. I want to be your perfect model but the cycle of light through the windows of life make that impossible. Every day has its beginning and its end, and every life too. Along with light comes shadows. It is I who will fall into the shadows. And you, who are stepping into the light. As you gain your sense of self and power … I will lose some of mine. It will be painful. Be patient with me.

Forgive me.

As your eyes clear, and your ears open, the stories of my human failings will fall upon you and penetrate your evolving membrane of reality. If they sting when they hit you … I hope the sting is short-lived. And I hope that with time, you learn to smile about them instead of grimace. I hope that you come to understand me instead of judge me. I too was once an impressionable lump of clay like you, who learned and lived. My mistakes are not for you to repeat or for you to own. Accept them at face value as a symbol of my humanity and resiliency and forgive me.

Trust me.

In one, intense, life changing moment, when that clay hit my hands, wet and new, the love I had for myself transferred to you. No one has ever mattered more than you. The moment I saw your face I wanted everything good for you. Making a mistake as a mother, was my biggest fear. Every idea, every agenda, every purposeful act had you penned in as the beneficiary. I haven’t changed my plans. I haven’t switched beneficiaries. You are the one moving on … stepping off the platform I created for you and onto your own path …. a wonderful and exciting path it will be. But letting you take that step and stopping myself from building a glass case around you to protect you. That is the hardest thing I will do. Trust me.

Remember.

Remember the birthday parties, the Halloween costumes, the nights we studied past your bedtime so that you could ace that test, the lessons you learned-especially the hard ones. Remember the adventures we had, the times we laughed, the memories we built, the places you’ve seen. Remember them because that was my work … and that work was all for you. Remember to think critically, to be compassionate and to love. Remember to create, to work hard, and to play even harder. And remember that that which is good is what matters most. Life is short. History repeats itself and our futures are always influenced by our past. Every cycle, even this one, comes back around. So, Remember.

Stay beautiful.

Powdery residue still stuck to my hands, my heart is breaking knowing that my masterpiece will one day walk out of my studio and outside onto the street; but it is breaking with pride because you are the most beautiful creation I ever saw. With a dirty rag and a lonely chisel, I’ll stand in the empty studio, my wrinkled hands clasped in anticipation of what wonders you will create. I was hardly the sculptor. You, my beautiful piece of clay … took shape all on your own. My hands merely guided you. And if one day, you should be handed a lump of clay, Take it! The coolest thing happens when time and hard work and love come together.

The world is a garden and it’s up to us to make it beautiful. You are beautiful. Make beautiful. Stay beautiful.

Love always, Your Momma

 

To all the sculptors who, whether they planned it or it not, when handed a lump of clay, accepted it. And because they did, the world is a more beautiful place.

Happy Mother’s Day! 

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Libations for Mother’s Day weekend … Raspberry-Lemon Martini … and more!

Just in time for Mother’s Day weekend. I think every mother would agree that motherhood is the single most challenging/rewarding job in the world. Only our children have the ability to fill our hearts and break them with such frequency that it’s painful …. and yet they are the only people who despite that cycle, we will never give up on or walk away from. They are the most common cause of our tears and our biggest source of pride. So to all you Mommies out there …. here’s some libations … because you deserve it!

I wanted to expand on the libations post using flowers in drinks but I posted this raspberry-lemon martini earlier in the week and it was so good that I can’t stop making them and decided to expand on it instead. As much as I enjoy my drinks and love playing around with mixology… I hate spending $50 to make a drink that I may not even like. That’s the mother in me that aims for fiscal responsibility. If I purchase several liquors and then don’t like the drink, I’m stuck with a costly purchase and dusty bottles of liquor that I don’t know what to do with.

So, to encourage you to try it, here is the original, again, and here are some additional recipes that use raspberry vodka and limoncello and a few that even use the sour mix too (though that’s cheap), so that no matter what, you won’t get stuck with liquor. I also adjusted the measurement device from the original recipe as I recently discovered many people don’t have jiggers LOL

tip: If you don’t have bar tools or a small measuring device, a shot glass is aprox. 1 oz

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Raspberry-Lemon martini

  • 1.5 oz raspberry vodka
  • 1.5 oz pink limoncello (regular limoncello would swap out just fine)
  • 1/2 oz sour mix
  • a few drops of lemon juice
  • a few drops of grenadine

Shake ingredients with ice and pour into a sugar rimmed martini glass; makes 1 drink

Raspberry – Limoncello spritzer

  • 1 bottle Prosecco (sweet white sparkling wine) chilled
  • 4 oz limoncello
  • 3 oz raspberry vodka

Stir and pour; serve with fresh raspberries and mint; makes 4 drinks

Limoncello Martini

  • 1oz limoncello
  • 1 oz vodka
  • 1/2 oz sour mix
  • 1/2 oz lemon juice

Shake with ice and pour into sugar rimmed martini glass

Bacio del Limone

  • 4 oz sparkling wine
  • 1 oz limoncello

Serve over ice with fresh berries; makes 1 drink

Lady Cello

  • 1 oz  limoncello
  • 1 oz rum
  • 1/2 oz lemon juice
  • 1/2 tsp sugar
  • 1 tsp grenadine

Shake with ice and pour into a sugar rimmed glass; makes 1 drink

Italian sunrise

  • 6 oz vodka
  • 3 oz bitters
  • 1 oz limoncello
  • 3 oz orange juice
  • 3 oz sour mix

Stir and pour over ice; makes 2-4 drinks

Pink Cello

  • 1/2 oz limoncello
  • 1 oz vodka
  • 1 oz cranberry juice

Shake with ice and pour; makes 1 drink

 Pineapple-Raspberry cocktail

  • 1/2 cup cranberry juice
  • 1/2 cup pineapple juice
  • 1/2 cup raspberry vodka
  • 1/4 cup peach schnapps

Mix; serve over ice; makes 2-4 drinks

Raspberry Mojito

  • small bunch of mint leaves
  • 4 slices of lime
  • 3 tbsp. simple syrup
  • 6 oz seltzer (could use a lime or raspberry seltzer too)
  • 2 oz raspberry vodka

Mash mint leaves and 3 slices of lime; shake crushed mint and lime with simple syrup and seltzer; add vodka and shake once more; garnish with remaining lime slice and fresh raspberries

Raspberry Moscow Mule

  • 2 oz raspberry vodka
  • 2 oz vodka
  • ginger beer
  • 1 tsp sugar
  • 1 tablespoon lime juice
  • fresh or frozen raspberries

Shake sugar, lime juice, raspberries, vodka and raspberry vodka. Pour in a glass and top with cold ginger beer to taste. Garnish with a lime.

Two other easy go-to’s for raspberry vodka :

mix to taste; good for those who don’t have a stocked bar and like it sweet and light

  • Raspberry vodka and Sprite (tastes like raspberry sherbet)
  • Raspberry vodka and lemonade (spiked raspberry lemonade)
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Teacher Appreciation

chalk board pic for blog

 

It was her 2nd grade teacher and the year that she was diagnosed with ADHD. Before that, I had heard some suggestions that my daughter “worked slower than most” but this was the year that it all came to a head. Our weekly meetings always included “not prepared for class” and “finishes last”. There were daily e-mails and continued efforts to “find a way that works” but with an open classroom and a teacher who didn’t “get it”, we didn’t get very far. She was my first child and I was at a loss. I didn’t know where to go or what to do next.

The evaluation process is a long one and while I went through the motions of establishing a diagnosis, the struggle in the classroom increased. When I said that my daughter “cried everyday when she walked out of school”, the teacher said, “I don’t see that.” When I said, “She’s very aware of her deficit and she hates being last to finish”, the teacher said, “She doesn’t show any reaction in my classroom.” When I said, with printed studies in hand, “You must stop keeping her in from recess everyday to finish classwork,” She said, “Ok” and then did it again anyway. It took 5 meetings and a threat to go to the board to get that recess punishment to stop.

I don’t know if that teacher ever knew just how broken my child’s spirit was that year. I don’t know if I even knew just how broken it was…until she started to get better. A spirit that is slowly diminishing is sometimes harder to identify than one that is coming back to life. Second grade ended in mere survival mode with therapy appointments that I made during school hours so that she could get a break from classroom time and eat ice-cream after her session before I returned her to her classroom. If I could have home-schooled her, I would have. We made it…but just barely!

It was 3rd grade when I started opening the school year with an e-mail introducing my daughter and her 504 plan to the teachers. Explaining her learning needs with an absence of behavioral problems and what she and I’s expectations were seemed to help. Third grade improved with teachers and a mother who had more understanding and more skills.

But it was 4th grade and the teacher who took a few days to respond to my e-mail that really changed everything. When your momma-bear instincts and your skill for writing both come colliding together, I’m sure it’s a little intimidating. At first, I was concerned as to why the teacher wasn’t getting back to me immediately. But when her response came, I was reassured as she apologized for the delay and explained that she wanted to give my thoughts and concerns her utmost time and attention. She gently reassured me of her various outlets within the classroom for children to “get-away” when they needed to and of her system of positive reinforcement. She embraced the open lines of communication and ensured me that she’d keep an eye on my girl.

And then something magical happened. Instead of calling me in for a face-to-face meeting, like every other teacher had when they saw my e-mail, she met with my daughter. She took my daughter aside during quiet work and talked to her about her ADHD. She explained that her sister also had the disorder and she remembers how hard school was for her. She gave her options of places to go, within the classroom, when she needed a two-minute break and she gave her a little dollar-store figit toy. And for the rest of the year she praised her and loved her.

When my daughter didn’t finish all of her work, the teacher sent it home with her… she didn’t punish her. When she performed poorly on an exam, the teacher didn’t show her disappointment, she encouraged her to keeping working hard. She was the teacher with an open-door policy for the kids to come and talk to her and she taught most of her lessons on the floor or jumping around the room and engaging the kids. She told her kids they could do anything they set their minds to and she believed in them. It wasn’t just my child that she touched. There were many that for one reason or another needed encouragement. She was really good at encouraging them.

While her grades improved, my daughter didn’t become a straight-A student that year. In fact, she didn’t even make the honor roll. But what she did do was far richer. She began to like herself again. She began to appreciate school and for the first time ever… she was excited to learn and she loved her teacher. That year, my daughter came back to life.
Every year since that second grade year, I am filled with anxious anticipation when the new school year starts. A PTSD of sorts, I am afraid of encountering another teacher who “doesn’t get it”. But then I remember sweet Ms.Atherholt who with her courage, understanding, kindness and enthusiasm dragged my little girl out of the darkness and into the light. She too… left that following year and I wrote her a letter thanking her for saving my little girl. I hope she knows that I meant it.

For all the teachers out there who take the extra minutes during quiet time to talk to a troubled student, who hand them a secret little dollar store prize when they see that they need it, who love what they do and show it…. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

You carry the ability to build up or break down any child. All of the therapy and paternal support in the world can’t fix a teacher who lacks empathy and support and it can’t replace a teacher who does either! Kids spend 35 hours a week with their teachers. That’s a lot of opportunity to influence. Thank you for making that influence a positive one!

There is no doubt that you guys hold one of, if not the most important jobs for our future and yet, you are grossly under-paid and under-appreciated. I long for the day that all teachers are held to the same high standards of performance and are paid accordingly. I long for education at the primary and secondary levels to be highly respected and sought-after positions and I’ll do everything in my power as a citizen to help make that happen. In the meantime, I hope that you hear, from this mother, that I see your hard work and I know how much patience and at-home time goes into it and I appreciate you!

For Ms.A and all the other teachers out there who use their heart, their skill and their education to not just make a living but to make a difference. Thank you!

Nurses and teachers share a week for a reason…because we both save lives.

Happy Teachers Week!

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The Blessing of Nursing

Having graduated nursing school twelve years ago, the details of my educational experiences have begun to get a little hazy. The drugs, the statistics, the countless conditions and syndromes in unrelated fields, the care plans … so many lessons I sat through as a sleep deprived 21-year-old are gone. I remember a few instructors faces, hardly any names. I remember some of the lessons and more of the patients. I remember how hard I worked to get that degree and how proud I was when I walked the stage. I felt blessed to be a part of an honorable profession as well as to have a means to support my family.

I remember being warned of nurse burn-out, of the long hours and the strenuous labor. I remember one arrogant nursing instructor telling us, a room full of new grads excited to embark on our career, “You don’t know anything yet. Everything that you’ve learned so far…is nothing.” And I remember hating her for saying that but knowing that inside of that harsh statement was a sliver of truth. I remember looking at the experienced nurses and wanting so badly to be like them. The real education, I was told, I’d receive “on the job”. That was true, and I put my all into learning everything I could as a new nurse.

But there is one lesson from nursing school that I remember clear as day. My instructor for my medical surgical rotation at Shock Trauma discussed with us our patient population. At Trauma you had the VIPs, the rich and the famous, the transfers for the state of art technology, and the city population – those who only ended up there because they were badly injured or they just so happened to live in the city and that world-renowned institution was their neighborhood hospital. 
 “I don’t care who is in that bed,” she said. “You are a nurse and your job is to CARE. Check your biases and judgments at the door and you give every patient you see your very best. No one dreams of growing up and sucking cock for $5…. of being a drug addict… a prostitute… a murderer… of losing all their teeth by the time they’re thirty. If they can’t afford health insurance but are sporting a new tattoo and cell phone, if they’re here because they were in a gang fight, it’s not your concern. Everyone has a story. If you have the time to hear their story, do it! And if you don’t, at least give them your best. You may be the last person they ever see.”

I took that lesson to heart. Since that day, I’ve sat on countless beds hearing countless stories. I’ve always taken the time to build a rapport and establish trust and whenever possible I let them share their life with me. I’ve let them talk and I’ve learned how and when to ask questions. The situations that I’ve encountered are endless. I’ve met educated people from normal socio-economic backgrounds that were addicts. I’ve cared for teens who grew up in foster care that were more mature than the average 30-year-old and others who suffered from mental illness and substance abuse as consequences and coping mechanisms from their years of abuse. I’ve heard the intimate details of an arranged marriage. I’ve learned the personal views and seen the beautiful faces of women who in public quietly peek through the opening of a Burqa. I’ve served celebrities and refugees alike. I’ve been face to face with abuse, neglect, poverty, and fame. I’ve seen the scars of cigarette burns, female circumcision, gun shot wounds and IV drug abuse. I’ve returned to work to find a $100 bottle of Champaign waiting for me and been presented a tattered rose and a hand written note with the words “You are my angel” scribbled across it.

I’m not a trauma nurse. I’m a labor and delivery nurse.
And I don’t work in the city. In fact, the county I work in has one of the highest education levels and the most money of just about any county in the United States.

I can tell you first hand that no one is immune to misfortune. No one gets a free pass and no one’s fate is sealed. Money, education, background, race, marital status…. a pregnancy…. doesn’t protect you from the horrors of the world. Some however, are given a much steeper hill to climb than others. Some are dealt a very heavy hand from the beginning. And when you learn just how heavy that hand is, you gain perspective.

I’ve seen the best and worst days in people’s lives. I’ve seen a miracle baby pull through and a 50-year-old finally become a Mom. I’ve held a mother when her child died and I’ve watched a married couple hand over their baby for adoption because they couldn’t afford to care for another child. I’ve supported the legs of a prisoner shackled to the bed, delivering a baby she won’t be allowed to raise. I’ve wiped the tears of millionaires and the faces of the homeless. I’ve helped hundreds of women deliver their babies and I can tell you, they all bleed red. They all sweat. They all cry from pain. And after delivery, all of their breasts fill with milk. For some, the hospital beds and food are the worst they can recall and for others they are the best. For some, our unit holds their most precious memories and others, their darkest nightmares.

With my “on the job” experience, I’ve learned the ins and outs of pregnancy, labor and delivery. I’ve got the drug dosages memorized and obstetrical emergencies have become a learned dance. I’m a good IV stick and a unit resource. For the doctors, midwives, nurses and techs, I am a trusted and experienced clinician. But what I am the most proud of aren’t my clinical skills, anyone can learn those. What nursing has taught me, that I am most proud of, are my human skills.

A patient once told me, “I love you guys (nurses). You guys don’t see color or money or the way I dress. You see a soul. And you care for that soul.”

Whatever biases and judgments I once had … they’re gone now.

That is the blessing of nursing.

Of all the things in my life that have taught me compassion, non-judgmentalism, and an understanding for the human spirit, nursing has taught me the most. When you come to me, you come to me looking for a nurse, and that is exactly what you will get. All judgments, any preconceived notions, are checked at the door and I am here to serve. And the more one serves, the easier it becomes to shed that judgment and bias on the every-day. After twelve years of nursing, I am most certainly a better nurse, but more importantly, I am a better person.
I hope I’ve made a lasting impact on the patients I’ve cared for… and I do believe I have. But more importantly, they’ve made a lasting impact on me. My soul has grown and my heart has softened because a nurse taught me a life-long lesson. She taught me to listen to people’s stories. Nursing has allowed me to nurture that in my soul just as much as I’ve nurtured the souls who find themselves in my rooms.

 

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Happy Nurses Day to my fellow nurturers, you make this world a better place!

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Raspberry-Lemon martini

 

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This drink was inspired by a similar drink I had for my birthday but the ingredient list I created here is easier to come by and I’m quite proud of its deliciousness. If you like martinis and you like raspberry-lemon…This drink is for you!

  • 1 jigger raspberry vodka
  • 1 jigger pink limoncello (regular probably works fine too)
  • 1/2 jigger sour mix
  • a few drops of lemon juice
  • a few drops of grenadine

Shake ingredients with ice and pour into a martini glass….or any glass really.

Rim glass in lemon juice and then sugar. Could garnish with lemon or raspberries.

This recipe makes 1 drink. Don’t have a jigger? A jigger is simply a 1.5 oz bar tool. Substitute a jigger for any part and simply increase the lemon juice and grenadine to taste.

Enjoy!

 

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Existence

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The statistical probability of you coming into existence is said to sit at around 1:400 trillion. The mere fact that you were born meets the criteria of “a miracle”.

How are you using your miracle?

I’d like to imagine that when our soul is first created, we are handed two things – a box of gifts and a pocket watch.

How many gifts you have contained in your box varies, but every soul has at least one. Most souls have quite a few. The gifts themselves are varied in appearance. Some gifts are shiny and studded with gems while others are plain and simple upon first glance, but all of the gifts carry the same worth to the universe.

Like the variance in the gifts, the watches too, will vary- not in appearance, but in the amount of turns that each is wound. Some are wound just a few turns and will stop ticking just a short while after they start. Others, wound long and tight, will tick for many years to come. The back of the watch is welded and there is no way to know just how far the watch is wound inside. But eventually, every watch stops ticking.

It is our job, as long as our soul roams the earth, to give away each of our gifts before our watch stops ticking. And when our watch stops ticking, our time on earth is over. Some gifts, often the shiny and extravagant looking ones, will be easy to give away. Others, carrying a more humble appearance will have to wait until the right recipient comes along before it can be removed from the box. But each gift carries equal importance no matter how easy it is to give away or how attractive the gift is. It is crucial that they be dispensed because each gift carries a purpose in the universe.

Taking the time to discover the gifts that lie in our box is a challenge. Our souls are born into darkness. Searching for a light source, using our senses of touch, taste, smell, sound, we must first discover what our gifts are… feeling every corner of the box to be sure we haven’t missed any.
Once we are aware of what our gifts are, we must then find willing recipients. Can they even see our gift when we first take it out of the box? Does this person have a use for our gift or am I imposing it on them? Will they treasure it or will they laugh at it and toss it aside? Does it need to be shined or wiped off…or is our receiver ready to accept it just the way it is? Do we have the courage to show our gifts despite the chance of rejection?

The discovery and the release of our gifts are challenges we bear but the greatest challenge lies not in what our gifts are or who they will be presented to. The challenge lies in the watch. Some people will have only hours on their watch, some days, some years, some decades, some, even a century. The fact that we can read and have organized thought means that we are already amongst the fortunate who have received a watch wound longer than many. But none of us know whether our watch has another 20 years of unwinding or if it is running on its last hours. No one knows where they will be when it stops….but when it does, that invisible box will once again reappear and you hope that the box is empty. You hope that you have given everything that you had….lest your arms be full and your heart be heavy with regret.

Despite the fact that we were all handed the same two items and were all given the same instructions to dispense them, each soul will be dropped in a different place and will encounter different challenges on their journey. Some will find themselves in castles. Others, in huts. Some will carry their box up a snow-capped mountain and others while they search for water in the desert. Regardless of the journey, there is equal opportunity to gift. Tragedy lies not in those who have a steeper or more difficult climb but in those who fail to look into their box – Those who fail to see the gifts that they carry on their journey – Those who are so caught up in the distractions of life, be it extravagance or suffering, that they forget the box entirely.

But even worse than that, the biggest tragedy of all, are the souls who, knowing they carry a box full of gifts, plod along with a complete disregard to the ticker in their pocket.

Time is defined as “the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present and future regarded as a whole.”

“Indefinite” : somewhere a pocket watch will always be always ticking.
“Continued progress” : new watches, new boxes are always landing with new souls to carry them.
“events in the past, present and future regarded as a whole” : the soul’s journey and the gifts to be given are all a part of a bigger picture

But the time on one watch is NOT indefinite. It is very limited. And without the progress of individual souls seeking to share their gifts, the progress of the whole is stalled. Without your gifts, the world is lacking.

1 in 400 trillion…That means if there were 54,794 worlds with the same population as planet earth and every soul from all the worlds put their name in a giant hat….and they drew one name to be the soul who would be dropped off and deliver their gifts, they picked your name.
We get excited about winning a raffle where our odds are 1:100 but not about winning life with odds of 1: 400,000,000,000.

If time were an object that could be carried in your pocket, would you be more aware of its limit?
Would a concrete form of the intangible sense of time allow people to realize just how precious it is?
Why don’t we all wake up in the morning with an immediate sense of making it our best day? Of searching for opportunity to share and discover?
Why do bucket lists take so long to check off?
Why is there a lack of sense of urgency?
How do we become complacent?

If you knew that your watch was on its final rotations, would you be satisfied with how you’ve spent your time?
My dream is that when my watch stops ticking, I’ll be sitting on the beach after sunset ………. laughing.

My head and my heart will be overflowing with memories, discoveries, adventures and accomplishments.

My body scarred and my clothes tattered … I’ll be tired and sore, but the good kind of tired and sore… like the way you feel after you’ve just finished a really big project or ran a really big race and you did it well.

And as the colored sky fades to darkness, I’ll close my eyes and picture where my gifts are sitting.

And in my hands I’ll feel the weightlessness of an empty box.

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Cocktails for Bikini Season

 

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It’s that time of year….the weather is warming up and you want to enjoy a refreshing cocktail outside…but you’re also trying to stay trim for bathing suit season.
Click here for the link to skinny cocktails!

(If it doesn’t open, copy and paste the URL below)

http://www.sheknows.com/food-and-recipes/articles/1078512/low-calorie-cocktails

These recipes don’t rely on sugary syrups or artificial sugar-free mixes and this list offers a good variety of flavors and ingredients! I’m personally going to be making some rosemary-infused simple syrup for the Gin, rosemary, lime soda but I’m betting my husband would love that celery-cilantro cocktail…Yummm