Cooking for Six

Before the kids came, dinner preparation went something like this: Most evenings around five o' clock, I would pour a glass of red wine, turn on some music and spend an hour preparing an amazing plant-based meal, commonly made from various ethnic recipes and foods. Sitting down to eat, Matthew and I would literally make noises due to the party taking place in our mouths.

Then came four children, who had no interest what so ever in ethnic, plant based meals. They wanted ramen, mac and cheese, pizza rolls and lots of it. I wanted to throw up. Forcing them to eat according to our preferences would never work. We were taught extensively about food, using it as a tool to create attachment and trust, throughout our training with Hope & Home. So even though what my children craved went against everything I believe in, I had to relent and nurture them unconditionally right where they were.

I now had to figure out how to make two meals, one plant based for Matthew and I, and a more traditional meal for the kids. Oh, did I mention I had just gone from zero to four children overnight? Here's how it went:

Phase 1: Cooking two meals each night. Duration: Maybe two weeks. This plan was impossible. I didn't understand at first (but was learning quickly) that kids have stuff going on - after school activities, doctor's appointments, homework, piano lessons, visits with their birth mom - involving transportation or assistance from me. Cooking was no longer calm, no longer relaxing, there was no red wine. There were interruptions, there were things burning, there were grilled cheese sandwiches upon discovering that no way in hell were my children going to eat "Spicy African Peanut Stew".

Phase 2: Resignation. Resignation came with the added bonus of serious weight gain for Matthew and I (especially Matthew, I have to be honest here). I lived mainly on vegan junk food: veggie burgers, potato chips, french fries and nachos with fake cheese. Matthew went totally off the rails and did some serious secret junk food eating (think breakfasts at Burger King). The kids ate great. I attempted to prepare comfort foods they were familiar with, and invented a few new favorites. However, it wasn't sustainable for Matthew and I, or at least our waistlines.

Phase 3: Lots of pizza, lots of Chipotle. That's all I will say.

Phase 4: Cooking once a week for Matthew and I, cooking daily for the kids. Duration: Two weeks. The glitch here was that I hate eating leftovers, especially every day. Matthew did o.k. on this plan, eating some at home, but still engaging in regular trysts at various fast food establishments.

Phase 5:  Eureka! Freezer meals! Why didn't I think of this before? Duration: Our current plan. I had a catharsis while checking out at the grocery store last week and seeing one of those small cookbooks near the register by "Taste of Home" called "Freezer Meal Recipes." I began Sunday afternoon preparing freezer meals for the kids. Hopefully this will result in the kids getting fresh out of the oven meals during the week, while I make plant based meals for Matthew and I each evening. I will keep you posted.

As you can see, it's been a journey. Matthew has a new goal of reaching his "pre-pregnancy" weight. I have a goal of staying motivated to keep tweaking the system, because if this fails, I may backslide into "Phase 1: Resignation." If any of you reading have an idea, please write them in the comments below. I am open to almost anything that doesn't involve me eating animals. What would solve all our problems is a personal chef. Any takers?

The Creature in the Pantry

I have decided that all my posts don’t have to center around my attempts to create a deep parenting vibe; some can just give you a peek into our quirky and crazy life. With that in mind I present today’s post. 

You should know I am bit freaky in the eating department. I am vegan, which means nothing is consumed that had a mother or a face - no milk, no cheese, no yogurt, no eggs. We won’t get into all the reasons why, but suffice it to say it I was having some health issues and found a study out of Germany in which said health condition was successfully treated with a vegan diet. So I went for it, felt incredible, and can’t imagine going back. I have been vegan for almost four years.

When you have a non-traditional diet, you do lots of web research, looking for recipes and cooking hints, searching phrases such as “What is a parsnip?” and “Sources of vitamin B-12” and “Are Oreo cookies really vegan? (they are in fact vegan, totally unhealthy for you, but horrifyingly and wonderfully vegan).” This much food google-ing inevitably leads to foods and food related concepts that you have never heard of before, and because I love adventures, I am game to try some crazy stuff every now and then.

My latest food foray is this: Kombucha. Basically, it’s a fermented tea beverage that contains bacteria that is beneficial for your tummy (aka pro-biotics). You can buy Kombucha in the store for $3.00-$4.00 a bottle, but you know what else you can do? MAKE YOUR OWN! For me, this began when my dear friend Kirstin brought over a SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast) which looks like this big slimy mushroom-y thing. You put it in some black tea and sugar, and it eats the sugar, and grows, and makes a baby! That’s why SCOBYs are also called “mothers."

SCOBYs are pretty gnarly, and I've kinda fallen in love with mine. I am obsessed with my mother. My mother sits in the cupboard, because she doesn't like direct sunlight. She bubbles and smells a little funky from the fermentation, but I love her.

My family is for the most part freaked out. Izzy will drink the Kombucha and says she enjoys it, and Gabriel watches the bottles diminishing in the fridge commenting on how much we are consuming. Matthew however has read far too much science fiction. He says it reminds him of the “Alien” movie series. Non-human creatures called “mother” having “babies” in our cupboard conjure up Sigourney Weaver images for him. Last night while I was sipping a glass of my delectable concoction of bacterial goodness he remarked, “If your chest bursts open in the middle of the night and an alien comes screaming out I won’t be surprised.”

Living with me can’t be easy, but at least I keep it interesting and fun!

My Cyber Peace Treaty

Our kids are plugged in, INSANELY plugged in. Matthew is a tech-geek and from the moment our children joined us he has strived to maximize and optimize technology in our lives. We each have a smart phone and tablet, there’s a computer lab in the basement, a projector/big screen/surround sound combo, an Xbox Kinect, Netflix, Hulu, and PSP’s. Did I mention the E-Readers? We are those parents. The ones you hate because your children want to come hang at our place when you won’t let them play video games. Sorry…For me to suggest we lessen technology in our home would cause a mutiny, led by my husband. I can’t have that. 

Headlines declare, “Children need less technology, more human interaction,” and popular parenting sites demonize technology as a Pied Piper leading us down the path of disconnection from one another. I am not a social psychologist, but I wonder if we are asking the right questions? Instead of analyzing how to limit technological exposure and increase social interaction in our children’s lives, what if we explored how we can leverage technology to increase social interaction in our children’s lives?

What if we used technology as a catalyst for authentic connectedness? Meaningful conversation and discussion about issues that matter could happen with rather than in spite of technology? It is this experimentation that I am focusing on in our home, because technology is here to stay. Short of some sort of zombie apocalypse (which I have not ruled out) technology is part of our lives, and my children will need to know how to navigate its waters safely.

Matthew and I both subscribe to news readers on our phones and most nights scroll through headlines covering everything from robots and science news to war and gender issues. We began texting the links to articles we thought our kids might find interesting. The other day I came across an article addressing body image, and sent it to Audrey. She has since had several conversations, not only with me but with her Dad too. We discussed how we are taught what is “beautiful” and “acceptable” as women and delighting in ourselves and embracing our beauty. Matthew mentioned the media’s objectification of women’s bodies, and how men have to question the messages they receive as well. This happened at the dinner table, and technology began it.

The possibilities are endless; it’s not just about sharing news articles. One night Audrey was struggling with some bad memories while trying to sleep. She shared that her mind was racing and asked me to come meditate with her. I have never really meditated with someone else before, so I was at a loss. However I climbed into her bed, and using my smart phone we listened to a guided calming meditation together.

Izzy and I have used a geo-caching app to look for nearby geo-caches together on walks. We raid dungeons together on World of Warcraft as a family. There are hundreds of links online, like these that make road trips more fun. Check this one out HERE!

I admit, technology can create disconnectedness, but rather than write off the cyber world as my children’s domain, I will join them there. 

Little Girl, Growing Up

I didn't know Izzy for the first ten years of her life, yet she is my youngest and part of me isn't quite ready for her to be thirteen yet, which is weird, I know. While Izzy is very much becoming a young woman, she is very much my tough tomboy as well, and I adore that. She is the child I can pose with in my mirror as we both flex our arms and compare biceps. I remember being thirteen and wanting to be young while wanting to be grown up too. It’s a tricky time, a transitional time of being pulled between two worlds. 

This tension can travel with you into your late teens. Mine ended after I had been dating Matthew for about a month. His mother called to ask him what his Easter plans were, and I was sitting next to him when she called. He told her, “I just met this amazing woman, and I think I am going to have Easter lunch with her.” I thought, “Who is he talking about? Who is this WOMAN he knows?” Then I realized he was talking about me. Until then, I had never been referred to as a woman by anyone, especially a man. “Huh, I guess I am a woman?” I thought.

After Izzy turned thirteen the other weekend, I wanted her to know that she is becoming and soon will be a woman, but she can be both a woman and a girl for a while. I wanted Izzy to know that I see her, all of who she is, even the growing up parts.

I offered to curl her hair, which is getting quite long, with the curling wand that has only been used by her big sister up to this point. We hung out in my bathroom and talked while I completed the look. We chatted about growing up and Izzy commented, “I don’t think I will want to curl my hair every day. Some days I like to go tomboy...not pretty.”  I replied, “Tomboy is pretty too.”

P.S.  Matthew is a genius. Izzy wanted a slumber party to celebrate and Matthew spent the day doing yard work in preparation. They were planning a campfire with s’mores. On a whim he set up our tents to let them “air out” when Izzy was suddenly inspired, “Hey Dad, can me and my friends sleep in the back yard tonight?” Why yes, yes you can! Therefore we were spared the giggles and shrieks at 2:00AM which occur when a gaggle of teen girls fill your home. We slept peacefully. I love that man.

The Family That Laughs Together… Laughs Together.

Once a year, my husband’s college best friend flies to Colorado from Minneapolis and they chill in the mountains for a few days together. This isn't a rustic outing full of hiking or fly-fishing, but more like a beer, movie and music festival in a cabin on a mountainside. I call it his bro-mantic getaway. He is responsible to no one but himself. Last weekend...it happened.

Matthew and I truly parent as partners, dividing the labor that is parenthood equally. So when he leaves town, his absence is plainly noticed by both me and the kids. Suddenly, I am responsible for driving everyone everywhere (this year Audrey helped me out big time) as well as still getting work done. Most noticeable however, is that we all laugh less in Matthew’s vacancy. His constant quips create much of the snickering that pervades our home, and we love to laugh. The first day or two he is gone we run off the reserves of jokes told within the moments before he left, but by day three things start feeling a little…serious and somber. I feel pressured to tell jokes and make any of our protégés smile, but realize Matthew possesses a sense of humor more suited to our children - a gift.

When Matthew returned home this time, a tangible sense of lightheartedness accompanied him...an almost audible sigh which has me thinking about laughter, and its power within families. A good chuckle together enhances our connection. We have so many inside jokes and developing these brought us together in the beginning. Our kids still titter remembering the time Matthew was pumping gas and suddenly jumped onto the roof of the mini-van and leaned over the edge of the window - peering at us all with a quizzical expression. Giggling broke out from both shock and embarrassment.

Life is too short to skip laughter. As parents, especially of kiddos who have experienced trauma, it is easy to be very serious about everything. I am reminded of the quote by the Indigo Girls, “The only thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously. It’s only life after all.”

While teaching groups of new foster parents at Hope & Home, I ask them to remember the fun, carefree moments they experienced during adolescence. We can either join in the fun of that time with our teens, or stand outside of it critically. If you have never cruised the highway on a summer night with the windows down playing Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” at a high volume while waving glow sticks, I highly recommend it. It's very good for the soul.

Finding What You Look For

Armed with a list of ten words that reminded us of one another, Audrey and I set out several nights ago to capture one photograph representing each of those words. My list for Audrey was the following: wise, beautiful, thoughtful, creative, funny, introspective, stylish, evolving, honest and explorative. Ambling through the grass of a park in an often unvisited part of town it struck me that seeking out a single word to encapsulate in a photograph affects how I walk and what I see. Looking for an image of “beautiful” causes me to see beauty everywhere. I asked Audrey if she noticed the same and she agreed. I mulled over how this applies to the rest of my life.

There’s a phrase bandied about in foster care, “the honeymoon phase.” The honeymoon phase is supposed to be a magical time in the beginning of a new placement during which children behave angelically because they don’t yet trust you and are afraid of showing their true colors. We were reminded throughout our first month as a family about “the honeymoon phase” by other foster parents - a slap in the smiling face of our early success - and warned to prepare for the inevitable disaster which was surely just around the corner. 

Why do we need a honeymoon phase? And do they exist because we look for them?

Honestly, we never left the “honeymoon phase," which isn't to say our family never faces challenges, but when that first test arose I didn't conclude, “Well, the honeymoon phase is over.” Instead I chalked it up to life. My children, like me, have both good and bad days. The goal of our family is to get through them together, celebrations and sorrows alike.

Do we find manipulation because that’s what we are looking for? Do we find deception in everything our child says out of our own fear of and hypersensitivity to it? Why in the midst of a great morning do we anticipate and prepare for the meltdown that has not yet come? And when it arrives, is that because we were intent on finding a meltdown? Not to wax philosophical or anything, because ultimately I conclude with more questions than answers, but yesterdays exercise with Audrey left me wondering how much my “looking for and preparing for” a bad day with my kids changes my behavior or attitude toward them to the point that it initiates a bad day? What if I take every moment for what it is...a moment, whether good or bad, and accept it rather than use it as a barometer for the rest of the day?

I am going to experiment with this. Join me, and report back with results in the comments.

This is the photo I took for "creative" to describe Audrey

Let’s Get This Straight, I Am Deeply Flawed, Just Like Everyone Else

Parenting a child who has experienced trauma using Love to Nurture, or any trauma informed parenting model, is highly counter-intuitive. In moments of less than desirable behavior ranging from meltdowns to the silent treatment, you are asked to remain calm and look at behavior as a symptom of a problem rather than the problem itself. I attempt to communicate what this feels like to new foster parents constantly, giving as many personal examples from parenting our own children as possible. I love story-telling and believe it can be the best teacher. Yet somehow, in doing so, I have inadvertently portrayed that “Living Love to Nurture” is easy and comes naturally to me...something another foster parent shared. I want to clear that up.

There are times that I, like every parent on planet earth, want to pull my hair out, scream, cry, or both simultaneously. Sometimes I fear that if I don’t make the exact right parenting decision in a moment of crisis, my child’s life will be ruined forever. I ask Matthew, “Are we the worst parents ever?”

In my unregulated, frazzled state as a parent, I want to do crazy strict things. Here’s an example:

Last week I wasn't sure I could trust one of my kids (hereafter referred to as “said child” because really, who wants their mom blogging about stuff like this) and my fear left me tempted to spy on them. I imagined catching said child in their lie, springing out from behind a bush with a declarative, “A-HA!” A look of guilt and shame would come across said child’s face; bursting into tears convicted of the wrong they had committed by lying to their mother, our bond never to be broken again… 

But back in the real world, I had to pause, take a few deep breaths, and think: Do I really want to be the “spying mom” and if so, what will that accomplish?  When my child finds out (which they most definitely will) will our relationship be stronger or weaker? If I don’t spy, how can I address my lack of trust with said child? Have I created a situation in which deception is easier than honesty?

I called my husband.

“Why don’t you just ask said child if they are lying to you?”

He’s a genius.

I began the conversation with said child by confessing my fears and temptation to spy on them. I shared my desire for a relationship based on openness and trust. Said child shared that they were telling the truth, not with defensiveness or anger, but a look-you-in-the-eye honest way. We discussed strategies for moving forward and began a dialogue on how to strengthen my trust in a particular area of said child’s life. One of the worst feelings is knowing when someone doesn't trust you but not having a way out. What a hopeless place. My children have experienced too much hopelessness in this life for me to inflict any more. I need to be part of their path out.

I share this story to illustrate that we all suffer from “bad mommy” moments no matter the age or how our children came into our lives. Love to Nurture parenting does not come naturally for me, and I screw it up all the time. My secret, the reason perhaps it can look effortless is that I have committed to practice every day. I have committed to breathe before I act or speak, to question myself and my own motivations, and to always begin tense conversations with questions or as St. Francis of Assisi puts it “seeking to understand rather than be understood”. None of these commitments are easy, but I have learned that practice and consistency pay off.

Be encouraged, you can do this.