When tantrums break the camel's back

This morning, amidst a birthday celebration of cards and fresh waffles for T, we had to remind J about a dozen times -seriously- to stay on task: "put on your socks, please put on your socks, where are your socks?, have you brushed your teeth?, carpool is coming, please get your socks." My insides were roiling, the anxiety bubbling like I'd just poured some vinegar over a mound of baking soda. We all knew what was coming, but who would break first? Carpool arrived, Jack was MIA doing god knows what, and as we called and called to him, he flounced up the basement stairs and through the door, ranting like a tiny mad-man. Your child's Jekyll/Hyde moments are always so unappetizing, and I find these times to be some of motherhood's most awful and difficult; the moments in which you actively dislike the little being before you even if you can vaguely understand the source of his frustration. These are the moments in which the grind of parenthood's regular challenges crosses the threshold into some sort of despair, be it disappointment, sadness, depression or some unsettling mixture of all. The moments when you wonder what you're doing, how you got there, if you can ride many more years of these waves, and how these buggers are going to turn out.

It is my belief that unless you aren't actually the one raising your kids, you're living in a perpetual state of to-the-core exhaustion; the kind that could be considered torture. So much is asked of you ALL the time, and as you're learning to handle whatever stage it is your child(ren) is in, they're, dynamically, moving up and on.

This morning took a lot out of me to be honest. I'd let T sleep in the basement last night so he could feel marginally rested on his 35th, and I knew that all he really wanted this morning was an easy one. I wanted to cook him a good breakfast, the kids wanted to show him the cards they'd made, and for a while, despite the regular mayhem that is our home each day before 9am, all was manageable. Until it wasn't, and we all ultimately went our separate ways in a much less cheery way than I would've liked.

I've spent this morning at Pilates (helpful!) and prepping everything for tonight's dinner (the creamy tomato soup is riDICulously good; the truffle butter- how could it be anything but fabulous?). It's been quiet and productive and nice, but I have a pit in my stomach and can't wait to leave tomorrow. In all honesty, I wish it were today. I can think of several things I'd rather do than hang out with the kids this afternoon. I need and have been pining for a break for so long, and it was with such dismay that I watched (and participated in) this morning unfold. Everything any parent puts off, in their own lives, seems highlighted in these crappy experiences. All the thoughts and feelings of "wow this is tough/taxing/dull/long" come to the fore anew, pushed there on a wave of disbelief and defeat. You just want to scream, "fuck, guys, come on. Throw me a bone." At least I do.

Perhaps I'm trying too hard to maintain an identity distinct from Mom, but I just can't imagine giving up that effort. I can't imagine that doing so, while surely simpler in some respects, would be fulfilling or wise. I chose to stay at home with my kids, and I never regret doing so. Most of the time I actually do love it. But I am always aware that I value -equally!- the person I am when they're at school or asleep or with their grandparents. The person who'll need to still be here when they leave for college, careers, their lives as adults if I'm not to then look around with utter confusion: what now?

Grateful that I've got about an hour and a half of solitude left, I'm trying to put this morning and sadness and fatigue behind me and muster again the enthusiasm I do believe my boys both need and deserve. They're children trying to navigate the challenges of growing up, not petulant adults who're acting like juveniles. But in the midst of all that understanding, it's also important to honor the challenges you,  I, face when doing so. Do the same for yourselves!

With that I'm off to fix myself a good lunch and figure out dessert for tonight. I did just receive my check-in reminder for our flight tomorrow, and it is, and is supposed to remain, glorious in Charleston. T- 22 hours!

Birthday menu

I forgot to describe the menu I've planned for Tom's birthday dinner tomorrow! It's going to be ridiculous if I say so myself: lightly grilled seafood sausage in a beurre blanc sauce (I had this at Chanterelle, the Tribeca/NYC institution that -sadly- closed in 2009, years ago and have never forgotten it; ordered the cookbook just to make this for T), truffled grilled cheese on brioche with creamy tomato soup, roasted asparagus and some dessert in which I hope to incorporate blood oranges. T is a chocolate fiend but after such a rich meal, I suspect he'll be relieved by a lighter dessert! Doesn't that all sound insane? I bought all the seafood and other ingredients today and will, therefore, be in the kitch most of tomorrow. Here's hoping for good light which means good photographic evidence, an easy day all around, and a tasty meal to ring in T's next year.

So much going on Wednesday

What day is it? I swear I had to look at the calendar to know. It is still raining, and it is still cold. Apparently we may get lots of snow tomorrow, but then the temperature will jump on Friday by about 20 degrees. This is weird. Beyond the obvious and troubling link to our changing climate, I only care about this slightly right now because in less than 36 hours, T and I are blowing this joint and heading to Charleston. There, it is to be sunny the whole time and range from about 52 - 58 degrees. In more ways than one, this is such a light at the end of the tunnel. Though I am fully aware that my innate energy level is high to a degree that probably places me in some sort of red zone, even I have been dissatisfied with the pace of the wheel I've been running on since 2013 commenced. Slow down, you antsy tread! Most everything has been good and enjoyable but damnation have I been swamped. Today, for example, I went to the bank, the market, three school drop-offs/pick-ups, out to lunch with Oliver as his daily pleas for 2Amy's finally wore me down, started planning a Wonder Woman/Hello Kitty party for Ol (this is such a weird confluence of themes but it's his day, so whatever; the only connecting thread I can see is that he has a crush on each- who has a crush on Hello Kitty??!!), took dictation of what he wanted for his birthday (one item was hand-wipes in a packet like the ones I carry in my purse; I'm not sure what to make of this- he's definitely not OCD so is it that the package is orange and green which are his favorite colors? does he simply want access to a thing I tend to mete out stingily?), talked to one of my best-ever college friends (finally; I love you, ASOJ), worked diligently on my writing homework and planned the menu for T's birthday dinner tomorrow night.

I played a sabbath card around 7 so I could break for dinner and was thrilled to find two more servings of that fabulous leeky sunchoke bisque waiting for me in the fridge. I ate half of that with a side of mozzarella, avocado and heirloom tomato. Though I try to eat seasonally and locally, I was tonight very thankful for the South American greenhouse that allowed me to enjoy a good - versus winter- tomato in the midst of January. I was also excited to open the Puglian olive oil my sister and brother-in-law gave me for Christmas. They know the producer, and it made for a wonderfully tasty and cool drizzle. With din, I poured a glass (now two) of a truly delicious CA Cab, the Stuhlmuller 2007 Cab Sauv from Alexander Valley.

Quite a few of you seemed stoked about the stuffed chicken and turnip dishes from last night. I will write up a formal recipe for each sometime soon but hope this cursory guide for the chicken will suffice for now:

Take two boneless chicken breasts and carefully slice them cross-wise but not all the way through. You want to be able to open them like a book. Season the bejesus out of the chicken with salt and fresh pepper, going heavier on the salt. Take a fresh bunch of spinach and wash it well; remove any overly thick stems. Steam the spinach using a steamer basket and then drain well and squeeze out any excess water. In a skillet, put some olive oil, two tablespoons of each sultanas (or regular raisins) and pistachios, one minced clove of garlic, more salt and pepper. Cook 1-2 minutes and then add the spinach, heating until everything is warmed through but not overcooked.

When the spinach mix has cooled slightly, carefully stuff all you can into each chicken cavity. Close up the chickens and tie them shut. Save any extra spinach to serve on the side!

In a 12" cast iron  or other heavy skillet, put some olive oil and heat over high heat until the skillet is WOW hot. Add the chicken breasts and sear really well on each side, maybe 4 or 5 minutes on each. Lower the heat and cook until the chicken is just cooked through. You can tent with foil or a lid to keep moisture in too, after the initial sears...