Another Mother Further. Part Two.

Mothers’ Day got off to a lovely start for me yesterday. Perfect weather, a few extra winks of sleep, thoughtful gifts, our favorite brunch, and inexplicably -- non-bickering kids. I don’t know whether Son and Darling Daughter were in cahoots on that last bit, but it’d be silly to ask, right?

Couldn’t last, of course.

As Son drove us to brunch, our Honda Pilot’s TPMS (Tire Pressure Monitoring System) indicated that the driver’s side rear tire was low. A fluke, right? It was, after all, Mothers’ Day. Just to be sure, I called Charleston to check with my advisor of all things manly -- Cougar Bait. Hmm. CB didn’t want to alarm me, but he noted that if I left the tire unattended, I might wake up to a car limping along on only three good tires the next morning. And then, just to be sure, he called Costco on my behalf, confirmed their operating hours, and told them I was on the way for repairs.

Sigh. I really didn’t have the time. Or the inclination. Weekends are special to me. Especially considering that the custody agreement specifies that Son and Darling Daughter are with their dad every other weekend. That means I only get those two full days of nagging -- uninterrupted by school attendance -- every two weeks. With exams only three weeks away, I had a good bit of nagging to do.

But then, unbidden, DD appeared in the kitchen, asking me to sign a math paper and before I could offer the considerable benefit of my wisdom, giving me her detailed plan to improve her grade.

Not one to be derailed, I went upstairs to explain to Son, in detail, exactly how (in my humble, yet expert, opinion) he ought to spend his afternoon. But it seems he had some kind of spooky, voodoo mindreader thing going, because when I poked my head in his room, he’d emptied out his closet and was making piles of clothes and books – to be donated, to be passed on, to be questioned.

Could Mothers’ Day have ameliorated the need for nagging?

I had no choice but to head to my CB-arranged appointment, where, as I cooled my heels in the aisles of Costco, I acquired a few intriguing facts:

1) You can make a tasty spread with smoked salmon, sour cream and cream cheese. To quote my enthusiastic and aproned friend, “That’s right! Just our special smoked salmon, sour cream and a bit of cream cheese!”

2) “On your way to the hospital [presumably due to choosing an inadequate ladder], you’ll be wishing you had a Little Giant MegaLite.” This is a direct quote.

3) Pub Mix is back! Inexplicably, my favorite snack mix is hit or miss at Costco. Today was a hit. Maybe Mothers’ Day luck? 

4) Edamame, of all things, is available for purchase in 24-ounce packages and can be microwaved.

5) And finally, “A tire can lose half its pressure before it appears to run low.” Sad, but true.

Two and half fact-filled hours later, I drove off with one new tire, arriving home just in time to allow Josie-The-Rescue-Dog -- who spends 23 ½ hours of every day outdoors -- indoors. So she could vomit five times. No kidding.

So much for Mothers’ Day luck.

No sense complaining, of course. I just needed to readjust and arrange to have pizza delivered.

To be truthful, I actually would’ve had time to make the Chicken Cavatappi I’d planned. It’s that simple. And in all likelihood, the kids would’ve enjoyed it more. But somehow, the home-delivered pizza made a much better story. And it reminded me how much more I like my own pizza sauce.

Happy Mothers’ Day.

Chicken And Cavatappi
This is another super simple – and absurdly flavorful -- recipe for my friend Megan, and inspired by CB's recipe for Pizza Chicken, which is the very same recipe, minus the pasta.
8-10 ounces cavatappi (or other hearty pasta) 

3 tablespoons olive oil
3-4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, each cut in 3-5 large chunks
2 cups marinara sauce (homemade or from a jar)
2 cups pre-grated mozzarella cheese

Preheat oven to 350. Prepare pasta according to package directions, cooking until al dente. While pasta boils, heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Season chicken chunks generously with salt and pepper, and then brown evenly in skillet. Spray an 8-inch or 9-inch pan with nonstick spray. Drain cooked pasta and pour into pan. Place browned chicken chunks on top of pasta. Pour sauce evenly over chicken and pasta. Spread grated cheese over all. Put dish in oven and bake 10-15 minutes until cheese melts, bubbles and begins to brown. Remove and serve hot.

Fifteen Mothers' Days Later, I'm Another Mother -- Further.

I was 32 when I became a mom.

I’d been married for nearly 10 years, but we’d chosen to wait to start a family.  Wait so we could finish school.  So we could be settled.  So we could be successful.  So we could travel.  So we’d be ready when the “perfect” time finally arrived.

As if there’d ever be such a thing.

We were lucky.  When we finally felt the time was “right,” we didn’t have to wait.   I was pregnant right away and nine months later, give birth to Son – who had one of the most gigantic heads you’ve ever seen on a mammal and yet, was still an ounce shy of nine pounds.  Seriously, we wondered whether that cranium would hinder Son's ability to walk upright.

I wasn’t home from the hospital more than 24 hours, before I knew that all that waiting and considering and planning did nothing to ease the transition to momdom.  Parenting was hard.  Hard?  Cripes.  Talk about an understatement.  As much as I loved, adored and doted on Son, as much as his needs and future needs consumed my every waking hour – and many of my sleeping hours, too – I felt like I’d never get it right.

I remember blubbering to Son’s dad, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I'M SORRY!  I know this was my idea, and I thought I was ready. But I never knew it would be so hard.”

Sure, I was sleep-deprived.  And clueless.  But damn.  That was hard?

I had no idea.

Soothing a bawling baby is one thing, but a tantrumming teenager?  Please.  And it may not be easy, but yes, I can scrounge up a decent meal while traveling with toddlers.  But I don’t know where to begin to comfort a heartbroken teen.  And I’m ill-prepared to exert my influence on people as articulate as Son and Darling Daughter have become.

I can only hope and pray that all the energy devoted to worrying about naptimes and pacifiers and potty-training, made me better equipped to address curfews and less-than-ideal-grades and hurt feelings and not making the team.  That somehow, when the skinny envelope arrives instead of the fat one, when “he/she” says “no” to the dance invitation, when everyone else’s mom says “yes,” but I stubbornly cling to “no,” that I’ll have some worthwhile guidance to provide.

Which is all to say that, 15 Mothers’ Days later, I still don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m not sure any Mom does.

The proof will be in the person.  Or, in my case, the people – the people Son and Darling Daughter become and the people whose lives they touch.

Until then, I keep trying and worrying and watching and guiding and planning.  And, of course, cooking.

Marinara/Pizza/Red Sauce

This marinara sauce is the perfect thing to cook when worrying and watching and planning.  I try to keep some in the freezer year ‘round, to serve with meatballs, to spread over pizza, to use in the ziti DD adores.  Even Son, who doesn’t usually care for red sauce will eat this one, because (thanks to an immersion blender), there are no telltale “chunks.”

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

2 ribs celery, chopped

20-24 baby carrots (or 2-3 large carrots), chopped

3-4 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped

3, 28-ounce cans crushed tomatoes

1 tablespoon dried oregano leaves

1 tablespoon dried basil leaves

1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves

¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon (or more, to taste) fresh ground pepper

1 cup dry red wine

In a large saucepan or Dutch oven with a lid, heat oil over medium high heat until rippling.  Stir in onion, sautéing until translucent.  Stir in celery and carrots.  Continue sautéing until vegetables are soft and slightly browned.  Stir in garlic and sauté another 2-3 minutes, or until fragrant.  Stir in remaining ingredients, bring to boil, and then, reduce to simmer.  Simmer, lidded, for 1 ½ - 2 hours, stirring occasionally.  When fully cooked, use an immersion blender (carefully) to smooth out the “chunks.”  (Optionally, give sauce a whirl – in batches – in a blender or food processor.)  Adjust seasoning and freeze in two cup containers.

The Grass Is Greener – Everywhere But Here.

Another super simple recipe for my friend Megan -- one pot and seven ingredients -- if you include lemon juice and red pepper flakes.

Lionel, our now 14-pound indoor cat, got out again yesterday.

I retrieved him fairly quickly  this time – not because I’m particularly fleet of foot, but because I’m patient and he, well, he was distracted.  He started out well enough, zipping past the catnip flourishing by the door, but then, couldn't make it another five feet before being waylaid – by a leaf, a twig, a bug, the “outsideness” of it all. 

Poor kitty.  His furry fanny was tossed back inside before he set paw off the driveway.

I can’t help but laugh.  That cat spends most of his waking hours, which admittedly aren’t many, lurking by the back door, plotting his getaway.  But why?  Inside, he’s kitty king – with his choice of canned or dry food, a cat condo, and two litter boxes.  Not to mention access to every bed and sofa when we’re home, and every countertop and table when we’re not.

All that, and yet, he yearns to be outside.

Josie, the rescue dog, is of like mind – although she only has access to the beds and sofas when we’re not at home, and the counters and tables when she masters the art of canine levitation.

The grass is always greener, I suppose, somewhere else.

My eyes are blue.  If I believe what folks have told me, they are blue, blue, bluer than blue.   So why, when I was a kid, did I want brown eyes?  As well as braces?  And glasses?

Along these same lines, Son and Darling Daughter would always rather be at someone else’s house.  Sure, there are plenty of extenuating circumstances, what with the divorce and our lack of a hot tub, but I don’t take this personally.  There’s even a Facebook fan page titled, “I’d rather do nothing at your house than at mine.”  Already, 1.6 million fans have signed up.  And counting.

Lucky for me, the exception – for my kids and kids of all ages  – is Mom’s home-cooking.  Sure, there have been incidents where my kids have begged me to get recipes from other friends’ moms.  (Let it be noted, though that on two occasions, the recipe was “boxed Alfredo sauce” and “pre-made mac n’n cheese.")  Still, when it comes to certain dishes, no one does it like your own Mom.  Son and DD love my Sausage Pasta.  My Waffles of Insane Greatness are -- for my kids -- beyond compare.   And they wouldn’t know what do with Pork Fried Rice served in a restaurant.

My former mother-in-law, who was an enthusiastic and accomplished cook, used to tell her son, “You can't talk about my cooking with other women in your life.  Don’t talk about my macaroni and cheese.  Don’t talk about my cheesecake.  It’s just not fair or right.”

I agree.  No one does it like Mom.  Even now, I won’t put a fork to any egg that wasn’t fried by my Mom.  Green tomatoes fried anywhere other than "home" may as well have been left on the vine.  And although it may not be authentic, my Mom’s version of Veal Parmesan prevents me from ordering it in any restaurant.  Ever.

In a way, I suppose, we moms ruin our kids for anyone else.

Take this “Not Clams Linguini.”  Couldn’t be tastier.  Couldn’t be simpler.  And I’m guessing my kids believe it couldn’t be made any better than than it is at home.

The grass may be greener elsewhere, but home is home and dinner is dinner.  And no one wants lawn clippings for dinner.

Not Clams Linguini

Sadly, if you’re wearing braces, linguini – as well as spaghetti, angel hair pasta and vermicelli – can be a challenge to eat, so for now we’re using lots of other pasta shapes, including piccolini.  Wide egg noodles would also work well.

8 oz. piccolini (or slightly more)

4 slices of bacon, diced

2 cans, chopped clams

1 cup chicken broth

1 pinch red pepper flakes

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

fresh ground pepper

salt

½ cup (or more) chopped parsley

Cook pasta according to package directions in large pot of boiling, well-salted water.  Drain.  In same pot, cook diced bacon over medium high heat until very crispy.  Remove bacon bits and set aside.  In remaining bacon fat, stir in clams (including juice), broth and seasonings (except parsley).  Bring to a boil.  Stir in cooked pasta and parsley.  Sprinkle bacon bits on top.  Serve hot, making sure to include ample broth in each serving.