forever young

i heard the quote recently "when you're a mother the days are long and the years are short."

nothing has ever described motherhood so perfectly to me before. lately the days haven't been so long. it feels like they are flying by right when i started wishing they'd last longer.

i want ara to stay her little self SO bad lately. i always say to her "pleeeease pleeeeease stay little for me!!! please??" and she says "no mama! i caaaaan't! i can't because i HAVE TO grow up!"

she's right.

but i dont want her to, not now, or anytime soon anyway...

i like the little her that thinks shes actually cinderella when she puts on her princess dress, the little her who calls seth "majesty" and "prince charmin" when asking him to dance, the little her who calls me "queen" and "precious", the little her who can only draw circles but thinks she's writing words, the little her who screams with delight when we talk about christmas.

i can't imagine the day she'll be too big to curl up on my lap, or when it will become awkward for me to pinch her lil tuchas, or when she'll want to hang out with her friends instead of with me. ... or... when she moves out.

last night she told me she "has to" live in her own house without me, or papa, or noli when she grows up. i told her she could still live with noli.

i wish i could freeze time, just for a little while. or know that i could come back whenever i wanted.

my heart feels too big for itself when i think of their little faces, their precious smiles and big eyes, their tiny little bodies, their belly laughs when seth is tickling them. i need these little girls. life before them doesn't even look like a good memory compared to the ones we're making.

i know i can't keep them little, and i dont want to be the mom that won't let go when its time. but oh how my heart aches with each passing day, knowing its just one day closer to them growing up.

i'm soaking them up. i could never get enough. doesn't it feel like you're always getting almost enough of them? even when i want to be alone i miss them. i can't even describe how good it is to look at arabellas sweet face, when she looks back at me like im the only thing in the world and just says "mama, i love you... sooooo much."

i take comfort in knowing that the only other person who could ever understand just how amazing they are, the only one who will remember all the little things they did as babies or as little girls that we held so dear, the only one who will ever love them as much as me, will be right there with me when i'm old and need to soak in the memories of these precious little girls. he'll be there to know exactly what i'm talking about and to miss it too. he'll be there to see what these girls have become and be proud of them too. he'll be there to enjoy every moment of these two amazing lives we created together.

Animal soup

When I was little there was a very short amount of time when I had the "normal" family. Nice house, stay at home mom, other siblings and a big back yard. My mother made dinner every night and even though we usually ate at tv trays, we were together.

Once my mom divorced my step dad the dinners stopped. I can only honestly remember one time after that that dinner was made like it was back in the family days and we actually sat around a table and ate. But one thing that always stayed was "miller surprise". It sounds like maybe the creepiest meal made but it's really just chicken noodle soup. It doesn't taste like anyone elses soup and it doesn't have any veggies. Whenever I wanted that soup, my mom would make it. She may have failed miserably at all the big things, but this small thing, she conquered. And maybe it was only soup but it was a constant in my life of chaos.

I always loved the warm smell that would fill our house when she made that soup. I would eat the left overs for days and days.

When I became a vegetarian realizing I would never again eat this soup was one of the main deciding factors I juggled before committing.

Lately my grandparents have all but completely lost their appetites. My grandma can't really cook anymore so they survive mostly on frozen dinners and protein shakes. None of my aunts or my mother lives close so they are almost left to take care of themselves alone. My grandpa has daughters from his first marriage that live about an hour or so from them, so they do as much as they can, which is a pretty great amount.

My grandparents came to thanksgiving at my house this year and I think I just had one of those slap you in the face realizations that we don't have forever.

My grandma is perfect to me. I love her with all my heart, she can do no wrong and I still get exicted to see her. I love getting cards in the mail from her and still cherrish the little stickers she uses to close them. I don't ever want to live without her around, but I know I will have to.

Well, since I know I have right now I figured I should use it. I told them I'd make them homecooked meals that they could freeze and eat when they wanted.

Miller suprise is simmering on my stove for them and my house is filled with that same warm smell. I can't taste it, so hopefully my nose won't fail me, but I have a feeling it's going to be just as delicious and heart warming as it was for me when I was 5.

patchwork

my father was stabbed at a bar in LA, walked across the street and died in highland park when i was three and half years old.

* * * * *

i had dinner with my grandparents last night.

these grandparents are not biologically related to me, or my dad, but they are all i have known as grandparents and all he ever knew as real parents.

they are some of the most AMAZING people i know. its insane.

they got married in their very early 20's and right after my grandma had gotten pregnant with her first child (and after only 6 months of being married) my father and his younger brother showed up on their doorstep looking for a place to stay.

they only lived in a tiny "honeymoon" house, they called it, at a mission site in LA. the only extra room they had was a walk in closet that had been turned into a kind of bedroom with makeshift bunk beds.

my father was 11 and my uncle 6. they had just moved to LA from seattle with their mother. she had been an alcoholic and from what my dad told my grandfather he spent most of his childhood cleaning up her vomit, dragging her out of bars, and wondering where she was. him and my uncle would sleep in goodwill bins (in winter, in seattle) when they went out to find her and couldn't.

she had had her own life of anguish which left her unable to be a fit parent. a native american girl that came from a government run orphanage. none of us know much about her, how old she is even. she is full of shame for her heritage and wont speak about her past or the other children that came before my father that none of us know. they were all given up.

so when my grandma and grandpa allowed my father and uncle to stay with them, in a warm home, with warm loving people, you could imagine how happy they were. my grandpa was telling me stories from when he first came to live with them. about their first christmas in my grandparents home. they gave my father tennis shoes and he slept with them all night clutched tightly in his arms. i can see how much my grandpa loved my dad and how deeply he cared for him when he speaks of him. i feel the same way about how much he loves me.

they ended up staying until they were grown. my grandparents had 4 children of their own after my dad and uncle came. when their kids were grown, actually even before their youngest was out of their house, i moved in. ever since i left they have still had a child at their house up until the past few months or so. their own moving back in, with grandkids... or people coming to stay from other countries. their home has continuously been open to people in need. the amount of compassion and grace they live in amazes me and seth.

it was so great, and so strange to hear about my dad. on the one hand it was just crazy interesting because i know nothing about him. nothing. i have asked a couple questions over my lifetime but really haven't learned much. its always been too embarrassing of a subject for me to even think about, much less talk about. on the other hand it was really hard because at every second i wanted to cry. my heart ached for him and the things he went through. i wanted to scream because i'm so mad i dont know him. hearing about him made me realize just how much we had in common, how much we shared that maybe he could have helped me with. i was nerve wracking because i felt so ashamed and embarrassed for missing him and wanting to know him. for talking about someone who is gone. it was intriguing because i couldn't stop wondering if he could see me somehow. if his soul is somewhere off the earth resting, if he is here in another body and doesn't know about me, if he's just gone. it was like a weird book i was reading or something.. hearing about a person who is closer to me than anyone on this earth, yet an absolute stranger. i feel close to him, when people talk about him i feel like i know him in my heart better than anyone, but i dont. i've never even heard his voice.

somehow he's still a part of me. and this brought me to another very frustrating realization. that just as much as he will always be a part of me, that he will always be in my heart and head, that he will always have a stake in my life, as a dead man, then so will my mother. who is very much alive. no matter how little i talk to her or think about her, she is a part of me. i have spent so much time wanting to deny her, get her out of me, forget her, make her disappear from my entire being and i'm JUST now realizing... i can't. ever. she is in me. there will always be things about me that sing of her. i have no control over that.

so there are these two people, both seem like strangers. like ghosts. two people i will never really know, but they live in me. somehow our hearts are connected forever.

with my mother this means i have to find the good in her and let that live in me. i have to be ok with that she is not all completely wretched. i have to love the parts of her in me, or i will only end up hating me.

with my father this means he's not gone. not completely. and it means he is real. he's not an imaginary story that someone made up.

my grandparents have boxes of pictures of him, pictures i have never seen. so im planning to go and look, and try not to feel like a freak for caring. i want to look into trying to find my family, all his sisters or brothers that came before him, there were 6. i want to go visit my real grandmother. before she's gone.

its always been so insane to me how seth knows so much about his family, how they have things to pass down. its not something i've ever wanted or thought about. i'd like now to create my own traditions, to pass down my things for my grandchildren, and to learn as much as i can about our gypsy style family. we may not be a normal family with china and silver, with family trees that date back to the year our family stepped off the boat, but our history is full of colorful stories, of mystery, pain, and life. its my own patchwork quilt that i am stitching together on my own...

i wont pray for you

when something terrible happens.
when you are having a really hard time.
when you are about to face something big and overwhelming.

i feel like because i can't say "i'll pray for you", i have nothing of worth to say to them. i dont wish i could say that because in honesty, i think its just default to most of those who say it. there are few who mean it i'm sure, but mostly people just dont know what to say and can easily cover the awkwardness with an "i'll be praying for you". when you can't say that you're left with the raw, awkward silence of not knowing what to say.

i never want anyone i love, or even a stranger in the midst of tragedy, to think i'm apathetic because i dont offer my prayers. but i dont pray, i dont believe in it and it doesn't mean anything to me. anytime i refer to it, its just default from the all the years of being taught that it was true.

so in these situations all i'm left with is "i'm so sorry." and i feel its never enough.

prayer is the weirdest thing to me. its always been weird to me but now i just can't even comprehend it. i feel so uncomfortable when i rarely pray with arabella, or when i'm at someones house and they all bow their heads and pray. i respect it, i just dont know what to do with myself. it feels so silly to sit there and pretend. i dont believe there is someone there listening, i think its just us. just us wanting to do something we think is right, to connect to something we're hoping is real, to feel like we somehow have control... because we always need to have control.

this is scattered. its just something i've thought about many times since i let go of prayer. and something i think about a lot because a lot of my friends are christians who talk about how "powerful" prayer is. but i dont think its powerful apart from maybe the energy and motivation we create when we are focused. but that has nothing to do with god.

postpartum

i never had thoughts about seriously hurting my children. wanting to suffocate them, throw them, strangle them. if i had though, it wouldn't have been uncommon for someone suffering with this kind of depression. for me postpartum depression just lead me to despise all that reminded me that i had lost part of myself. it made me want to run away from everything that took any part of my individual freedom.

as most of you know i raised my mother, then i moved out at 16 and became my own grown up, at 20 i was married and at 21 i had my first child. so there was already the setup in place for me to feel like i had never had my own freedom, to feel like i never got to just be young. because i didn't. responsibility was always there trying to make me older. it doesn't really seem too crazy that the resentment of this is what i would revert to feeling everyday once the overwhelming reality of two children set in. not to mention my family has a RAGING history of bipolar, chronically depressed, manic depressive, and suicidal women in it. i am the first woman on my mothers side to never have taken anti depressants in a few generations.

going into the pregnancy with nola, where i wasn't excited and wasn't welcoming in any way of the idea of another baby, i thought that ppd was a possibility but i guess i didn't truly understand what it meant. i didn't understand that it could have the potential to literally destroy my entire life, and seth's.

it came on so slowly, bit by bit, that i didn't even notice that thats what was happening. i knew my hormones were out of whack because i was nursing but i didn't see that it was much more.

i didn't enjoy being home with my children, ever. i didn't want to be around seth, ever. i didn't want to hang out with any of them and i didn't want to even talk to seth hardly. i never wanted to be home and sometimes i didn't want to be anywhere because i knew that where ever i was i would ALWAYS be connected to these people. to me these people were all that represented my life being stolen from me. for me i just looked at my marriage and my children as mistakes i had made and now had to live with. somehow.

inside my heart ached. i dreamed constantly about getting away. throughout the day at home i wasn't even there. my body was here, walking around, making food, changing diapers, cleaning, but i know without a shadow of a doubt arabella knew i wasn't really with her. i didn't play with her or cuddle her. i yelled at her SO much. i felt like all i did was yell and i felt like i was just like my mother. it got to the point that when i told her i loved her she would just say "NO!" i gave up so much with nola that i was so proud of doing with arabella. from the elaborate fresh baby food i made for arabella to just the fact that i actually held arabella as a baby. nola didn't get these things. she also didn't get breast milk for very long or cloth diapers. she didn't get a happy mother or two parents who wanted to be with each other.

the only thing that brought me joy was going out and drinking and a friendship i made with another guy. there was no affair, there was only a friendship, but obviously that's not the healthiest way to find happiness when you want to run away from your life.

i could have taken anti depressants but at the time i really didn't understand what i was going through, i didn't think i needed help. i couldn't see me from the outside. i ate healthy always, i exercised, i took vitamins but that didn't change my chemical inbalance.

i've always believed postpartum depression is a real thing and that some women definitely experience it so strongly that there HAS to be some outside source to help them. be it drugs or counseling or whatever. but going through it just made me realize how horrible it truly is. i can't even describe some of the things i thought or the ways i felt because now i dont even remember them. they were so NOT me and so crazy that i dont understand them now. at the same time if a friend came to me and thought the same things i wouldn't think she was crazy for one second. i would get it.

looking back i feel a little angry that no one helped me. no one said that they even thought that was what i was going through. maybe they were afraid to? i'd be afraid of me. but if you know someone that you think is going through this please dont remain silent. the lives of children could depend on it, the life of a mother could. the other thing that makes me angry is the people who would say things like "you just need to take iron." or "yea i never had that because i just ate really well etc etc"... and etc.... this is NOT the way to talk to a depressed person. it only promotes the feeling that they are disfuntional and other people dont feel the crazy things they do. nothing worsens depression like isolation. and some people can change their depression with the way they eat or the vitamins they take, but this is mild depression. trust me.

over the past few months my hormones leveled out and i can feel the change in me every day. the person i was in january, february, march.... and so on... she is a stranger to me. it took time even after i knew my hormones were back to normal to change the way i thought, the way i acted and the way i treated the ones i love. i had built habits.

lately i truly love being a mother and being at home. i'm still the kind of lady whose life will never be filled only with being a mother, who wont find her identity in it and wont teach her children that that is what a woman does. but there is a definite change. the same with marriage. it will never be something my life completely revolves around, something i find my identity in or something i teach my children they are supposed to do. but there is a definite change.

i want to be home with arabella and i dont go crazy (bawling and calling seth telling him i have to lock them in their room and he needs to come home before anything happens) when i've been with them all day... or even all week. i kiss arabella all day long, i hug her and snuggle with her and dance with her and play with her. same with nola. now i hardly have the chance to tell arabella how much i love her before she tells me. she says she loves me, that i'm the best, that i'm her favorite and that she misses me only about 30 times a day each. and it feels so great.

i want to be married. i want to hang out at home EVERY night and i want seth right there with me. i want to hug him and look at him and talk to him.

i can see my life from the outside now and its perfect. i have a handsome, intelligent, graceful, understanding, hard working husband who loves me. i have two adorable, brilliant, funny, beautiful, healthy children who adore me. i have good friends, a good home, good health insurance ;) seriously though...i do.

i dont regret getting married or having either of my babies. and i dont regret doing it so fast and so young. now that i'm through all the craziness i'm so so SO thankful that i am young and i am through it.

my only regret now is losing the last year to this stupid depression. losing nolas first year and treating arabella like i wanted her away from me. it breaks my heart. i hope with all that is within me that arabella wont remember that time, that she will soak up what we have now and what we will continue to have over the years, because i know it will only get better.

i know i had to go through this. i had to really understand what my family is worth and i had to finally come to terms with the life i have chosen and decide what i wanted. i know now.

i have everything i want.

my kind of thanksgiving

so i decided that this year i wanted to have thanksgiving at my house for my little family all by myself. i wanted to cook and i wanted to have this warm homey holiday in my own home. i've been SO excited because i get to make whatever we want to eat (normally thanksgiving isn't that great food wise for vegetarians if they go to meat eaters houses for it).

this is what i've decided to make:

three sisters stew:

• 1 small sugar pumpkin or 1 large butternut or carnival squash (about 2 pounds)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 medium green or red bell pepper, cut into short, narrow strips
• 14- to 16-ounce can diced tomatoes, with liquid
• 2 cups cooked or canned pinto beans
• 2 cups corn kernels (from 2 large or 3 medium ears)
• 1 cup homemade or canned vegetable stock, or water
• 1 or 2 small fresh hot chiles, seeded and minced
• 1 teaspoon each: ground cumin, dried oregano
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 3 to 4 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Cut the pumpkin or squash in half lengthwise and remove the seeds and fibers. Cover with aluminum foil and place the halves, cut side up, in a foil-lined shallow baking pan. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, or until easily pierced with a knife but still firm (if using squash, prepare the same way). When cool enough to handle, scoop out the pulp, and cut into large dice. Set aside until needed.

Heat the oil in a soup pot. Add the onion and sauté over medium-low heat until translucent. Add the garlic and continue to sauté until the onion is golden.

Add the pumpkin and all the remaining ingredients except the last 2 and bring to a simmer. Simmer gently, covered, until all the vegetables are tender, about 20 to 25 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

If time allows, let the stew stand for 1 to 2 hours before serving, then heat through as needed. Just before serving, stir in the cilantro. The stew should be thick and very moist but not soupy; add additional stock or water if needed. Serve in shallow bowls.



garlic romano mashed potatoes:

4 pounds unpeeled red potatoes, quartered
10 ounces butter, room temperature
1/4 pound Romano cheese, grated
3 tablespoons and 2-1/2 teaspoons chopped roasted garlic
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons dried oregano

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender but still firm, about 45 minutes; drain. Stir in butter, cheese, garlic, salt and oregano. Mash with a potato masher or with an electric mixer.
2. (and i'll make some bisto gravy)
   

ciabatta stuffing:

• 6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter
• 2 large onions, finely chopped
• 2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
• 3 celery stalks, finely chopped
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves
• 3 garlic cloves, chopped
• 2 (7.4-ounce) jars roasted peeled whole chestnuts, coarsely broken
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves
• 1 pound day-old ciabatta bread, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
• 2/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan
• 1 cup (or more) vegetable stock
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 2 large eggs, beaten to blend

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Butter a 15 by 10 by 2-inch glass baking dish. Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add the onions, carrots, celery, rosemary, and garlic. Saute until the onions are very tender, about 12 minutes. Gently stir in the chestnuts and parsley. Transfer the onion mixture to the large bowl. Add the bread and Parmesan and toss to coat. Add enough vegetable stock to the stuffing mixture to moisten. Season the stuffing, to taste, with salt and pepper. Mix in the eggs.

Transfer the stuffing to the prepared dish. Cover with buttered foil, buttered side down, and bake until the stuffing is heated through, about 30 minutes. Uncover and continue baking until the top is crisp and golden, about 15 minutes longer.

apple pie:

Pastry
2	cups white whole wheat flour
1	teaspoon salt
2/3	cup plus 2 tablespoons shortening
4	to 6 tablespoons cold water
Filling
1/3	to 1/2 cup sugar
1/4	cup white whole wheat flour
1/2	teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2	teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8	teaspoon salt
8	cups thinly sliced peeled green apples (8 medium)
2	tablespoons butter or margarine

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1.	In medium bowl, mix 2 cups flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Cut in shortening, using pastry blender (or pulling 2 table knives through ingredients in opposite directions), until particles are size of small peas. Sprinkle with cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time, tossing with fork until all flour is moistened and pastry almost cleans side of bowl (1 to 2 teaspoons more water can be added if necessary).
2.	Gather pastry into a ball. Divide in half; shape into 2 flattened rounds on lightly floured surface. Wrap in plastic wrap; refrigerate about 45 minutes or until dough is firm and cold, yet pliable. This allows the shortening to become slightly firm, which helps make the baked pastry more flaky. If refrigerated longer, let pastry soften slightly before rolling.
3.	Heat oven to 425°F. With floured rolling pin, roll one pastry round into round 2 inches larger than upside-down 9-inch glass pie plate. Fold pastry into fourths; place in pie plate. Unfold and ease into plate, pressing firmly against bottom and side.
4.	In large bowl, mix sugar, 1/4 cup flour, the cinnamon, nutmeg and 1/8 teaspoon salt. Stir in apples until well mixed. Spoon into pastry-lined pie plate. Cut butter into small pieces; sprinkle over filling. Trim overhanging edge of pastry 1/2 inch from rim of plate.
5.	Roll other round of pastry into 10-inch round. Fold into fourths and cut slits so steam can escape. Unfold top pastry over filling; trim overhanging edge 1 inch from rim of plate. Fold and roll top edge under lower edge, pressing on rim to seal; flute as desired. Cover edge with 2- to 3-inch strip of foil to prevent excessive browning.
6.	Bake 40 to 50 minutes or until crust is brown and juice begins to bubble through slits in crust, removing foil for last 15 minutes of baking. Serve warm if desired.

my aunt is coming down and hopefully my grandma and grandpa will feel well enough for us to pick them up and bring them over.

i can't wait!

hello again creepy internet world!

its been a while.

life got pretty crazy for a while, but the past month and a half has been very peaceful and sweet.

i'm finally back to myself. no post partum depression, no quarter-life crisis.

for the first time since arabella was born i feel completely happy to be a mother. i love staying at home with them and i enjoy every moment i have with them. its an amazing feeling and one i've wanted to feel since i got pregnant.

seth and i are doing so well, i'm so thankful for him and so, SO, glad we are through everything this year has had to offer us. yuck.


seth has been working on some music videos and i will be launching them on my blog very soon. i want to write about the songs because they are basically our story mapped out in an album, some not on purpose. this album means more to me than anything seth has written and i love every song that sings of us, the good and the bad.

so stay tuned, cause i'm back in action and there will be some super sweet lakes videos in the near future!