Alec the Titan

My son is a Titan. Not necessarily a Titan as in the Titans who fathered the gods of Olympus, but a flame-haired master of his universe. But if we're being honest, and not just exaggerating in order to make a point, his hair is blonde-ish / brown-ish with a beautiful copper corona (psst: in this case, a corona is a glow visible in moderate to great sunlight).

The red hair began to show very early on, and came as a surprise to me... and my husband. When initially questioned about it, I replied that the color obviously came from the devil himself. Then we laughed hysterically.

When I repeated that anecdote to my mother, she "reminded" me that we were Scottish, so the red hair was not a surprise. I expressed surprise at the news that we were Scottish. She continued to act like this was information that I already had, and "repeated" a story about a great (great-great?) -grandfather, a long-distance bride, and a case of mistaken identity based on a beard that grew in red. It's a great story. If I loved you more, I would type it out here. But I love ME and SLEEP more than I love YOU, and also, it's not the point. The point is that my mother, The Keeper of the Family Lore is an inadvertent story hoarder. She has listened to and stored family stories for her entire life. She loves stories. She will practically mug people for biographical stories. She especially loves to share stories. The problem is not one of intentional hoarding. The problem is that she is so used to having all of this knowledge in her head, that she feels like we ALL have the same amount of family lore rolling around in our brains. I personally haven't heard a story older than my own great-grandparents in at least ten years - thus, my claim of hoarding.

To be fair, my mama and I have been through our share of wild, busy, stressful, amazing, exhausting changes in recent history. There hasn't been a lot of time for sharing of anything other than love. But if we don't tell more stories more often, the stories die. We can forget who we came from and how blessed we truly are. We forget that we are Scottish Titans Who Braved Untamed America.

Maybe it's time to listen more. You know. So we won't forget...

Is It On The List?

As you may have deduced from my personality type, I love lists. I love to have my tasks laid out in an orderly fashion. I love to check things off as they're done. The whole process soothes my monkey brain into submission so that I can actually complete the tasks on the list. I have been (lovingly) mocked in the workplace for my daily to-do lists, but when I take my lists and move on, they're sorry :-P

I like lists so much that I even love spreadsheets. I've created spreadsheets for restaurants, architects, spas and just for me. When I began my massage career, I even made one that tracked each massage appointment that I had by type, commission and tip then totaled the appointments by shift, week, paycheck and month... o.k., that sounds obsessive, but a) it sounds more complicated than it really is and b) when you work solely off of commissions and gratuities, it's important to keep track so that you are compensated appropriately by your employer :-P

I even keep old lists. I pleases me to look back on past lists and remember the occasion that warranted such planning and organization. Like Thanksgiving 2007 - it was my first time to host a major holiday on my own :-)

... and my house was a WRECK. This is actually page 1 of 2. The second page has a 2-week countdown on it. I barely finished in time!

Sometimes my past holiday and event lists help me to prepare for future events as my shopping and task lists are already laid out. Sometimes they're a reminder of what went wrong or what I should do ahead of time.

Then there are the things I've tracked just since becoming a mother. The breastfeeding log that was meant to be kept up for a week or so to soothe new parent's concerns about intake and output. I obsessively kept it up until she was almost 8 weeks old:

Oooooh, here's a good one! Look at this timeline:

Looks a bit crazy, doesn't it! I see new parents who are so sleep deprived that they devise a complex system to track baby's movements in order to discern ANY possible pattern of sleep with the hope of turning that pattern into a habit. My heart goes out to those two - that was a rough time. Now we've learned our lesson - she either sleeps or she doesn't.

I almost showed you my current ongoing list that tracks our bills just like a spreadsheet but with more elbow grease because I'm pretty proud of it. Then I realized that putting all of my service provider names along with amounts and due dates would be incredibly unwise. Don't worry, I trust YOU, it's that one over there that I'm worried about :-P

I come by this naturally. Friday was my dad's birthday. Saturday, my mom hosted  a small dinner to celebrate. When we spoke Friday, she said something about not being able to go to the store until in the morning, but that it would be just fine. I could hear her list beginning in my head. When I got to her house  to help set up, I kept my eye out for it. As we puttered along, she said 'maybe we should write down what we have left... you know... just to stay organized.' The notebook was procured, and the new list was begun. As we went along, she'd say things like 'add wash dishes so I can cross that off when I'm done' or 'did you add bread dough in machines? Good - cross it off.'

It's just one of those things that I share with my maternal kin. Like our eye shape, our hands and our inability to make anything less than too much salad. We like lists. We like to lay out our tasks and our projects. We like to cross things off as we go. We like the feeling of completion when the list is done. I like that we share this small compulsion. I like that our same-ness is more than skin deep.

Fancy

SO, I loved Haiku Wednesday, and apparently, so did my mom. She didn't post her replies directly here, but I'm taking the liberty of adding them as they trickle in :-P

Today, she found a marauder in our garden. A Squash Boring Beetle (gak.) - they bore into the core of the plant and it d-i-e-s :-( Here is what she sent to me:

red and black villain
boring beetle looking fancy
now sucks squash no more

Ya'll, I snorted when I read that. Pure genius.

Since my world is still on fire, I don't have a lot to add... bye... :-)

Existential Lily Ruth

Lily Ruth has a new obsession. Aside from her fascination with 'Mama Mia', her daddy's eyes, and the fact that her new play shoes have velcro:

She has fixated on the word 'soul'. Granted, she's singing Mama Mia when she does so (... there's a fire within my soul... Mama Mia - here I go again), but she gets stuck there. 'My SOOOOUL'. She draws it out and savors it.

My mama recently said to me that she wants to buy a book or two for Lily Ruth about God. She wants Lily to have a frame of reference for talking about God before she forgets all of the things that she was born knowing. My mom says stuff like this. The instant that she says it, I usually realize that she has just verbalized something that I believe. She has done a lot more studying about faith and God than I have. In the past few years it has been something that really calls to her. The path that she has chosen to accomplish this has been a beautiful one. Instead of a 'traditional' religious path that calls for rote memorization and blind faith, she has found a community of curious, interpretive minds who basically insist (in a very loving way) that you understand what you are following.

I love that she wants this for Lily Ruth as well. I love the idea of Lily always relishing the word soul. Of it always being something that she draws out and savors.

Go Hug Your Mom

Seriously. Right now. Even if your hug can only be held in your heart or over the phone or through e-mail. Go hug your mom.

My own mom is fine (she says), but for a while today she thought she might have had a (small ?!) heart attack. She called me all calm-like to let me know that she was recuperating at the Heart Hospital and would soon know for sure if said incident had been a real heart attack or not. I stayed all calm-like and asked her what had happened, etc. In the middle of telling me, she had to go talk to doctors. As soon as she hung up, I couldn't breathe. I managed to dial my husband's cell phone number - because it's always good to make phone calls when you are gasping for air and crying hysterically - and in the manner of all good heros, he announced that he was dropping everything to come home so I could go be with my mama. My dad called before I could calm down and told me that Mama had NOT had a heart attack, but is severely potassium depleted. This can mimic heart attack symptoms since potassium is required for each and every heart beat. She is being gently urged to swallow huge horse pills of potassium, and should be home tonight.

Ya'll, I am in a panic. I want to go over there right now and crawl into that stupid hospital bed and hug my mama, but she'll be out of there before I could get across town. I also want to crawl into Lily Ruth's crib and kiss her until she swats at me, but she's been fighting a virus and seriously NEEDS this nap... and the dumb crib would probably collapse if I hauled my butt over the rail... I also want to start cooking and not stop until there is enough food ready for several families. I think I'm going to have to settle for cooking.

Mama, I love you. I'm sorry that I'm telling your business on my blog. I'll be over later with more food than will fit into your refrigerator.

Mama Cooks

Today's Recipe: Linda's Sunday Night Pasta 'Bake'

I get my love of cooking good food from my family. My Grandmother doesn't cook as much as she used to - I think it's just not her turn any more - but my Mama is still KILLING it in the kitchen. For last night's dinner, she winged it using a couple of recipes that she'd seen while going through old issues of Cooking Light (a favorite pastime in our group). It was so good, that I have to include it here even though we didn't take any pictures...

Sunday Night Pasta

1 bag/box/package of pasta - use your favorite
1 Lb fresh Ricotta cheese
1 Lb fresh Mozarella cheese - sliced
olive oil
1 Lb mushrooms - cleaned and cubed/quartered
1 large onion (red yellow or white) - chopped
2 bunches Swiss Chard - washed, ribs removed and leaves coarsely chopped
Kosher salt
4 or 5 garlic cloves
1 jar GOOD marinara sauce
1 cup coarsely chopped fresh basil

boil pasta according to directions - you'll want it to be al dente. line a baking sheet or two with foil and coat with olive oil. loosely arrange the mushrooms and onion - do not crowd them. bake at 350 until nicely done - set aside. in a large skillet, heat a dollop of olive oil. add the chard and a bit of Kosher salt, and stir. as it begins to soften, press the garlic cloves over the chard and mix. when the chard is just cooked, add in the mushroom/onion mix and the pasta sauce and heat until just warmed. cover the bottom of a 9X13 baking dish with the ricotta cheese. layer in the pasta then the basil then the sauce/chard/mushroom mix. top with the Mozarella. slide the dish under your oven's broiler until the cheese is slightly browned and bubbly. eat way too much :-)

Just as a point of reference, this is my beautiful Mama with Lily Ruth when she was just a tiny newborn :-)