My Mother's Day did not start out the way I expected. We used to have the tradition of taking my mother-in-law out for brunch on Mother's Day, but after years of long waits, mediocre food and antsy children, we decided to skip the restaurants on holidays. Instead, I would wake to the treat of my family in the kitchen making me my favorite, although difficult to make, breakfast of eggs benedict. This year, Joe was up first and the coffee was made, which is important, but the kids have reached the ages where sleeping in on weekends is more appealing than making breakfast on Mother's Day. It made me sad. Not because I was hungry, coffee is usually my breakfast of choice anyways, but because I loved the idea of the kids being excited about doing something special for me.
My teenager finally got up and begrudgingly made me a card. He stood by sulkily while I opened the gifts Joe and Kyle had gone shopping for before disappearing into his room to work on the homework I had asked him to do the day before so we could spend Mother's Day doing something fun. It made me cry. I know Mother's Day is not a real holiday. I kept repeating that to myself all day. It didn't help extinguish the searing pain of disappointment. Just one day, put aside the self-centeredness that teenagers seem to grow along with acne. Just one day- acknowledge all moms do to make life good.
I decided to take this wisdom and put it to use myself. Although I was unable to spend Mother's Day with my own mother, my mother-in-law was coming for dinner and I decided to make it special instead of take out easy. Joe and I took a drive to the Hilltop Steakhouse to pick up some nice steaks. I searched for new recipes and decided to make some Parker House Rolls and Lemon Pudding Cake.
The recipe for rolls used ounces for measurements instead of cups, like I am used to. The math seemed easy enough, but when the dough was more like cake batter than bread and didn't seem to change with the addition of more flour, I worried that they were going to be a disaster. I kept my head up and put the dough aside to rise and see what would happen. I started on the Lemon Pudding Cake. The recipe was simple and straight forward. I popped them in the oven and set the timer. The rolls dough was rising, things looked promising and my earlier feeling of hating Mother's Day was disappearing.
Joe had built a fire outside and when his mom get here, she joined him by the firepit. I started the Au Gratin Potatoes and custard sauce for the cakes, opened a bottle of Louise d’ Estrée Sparkling Red Wine, made Sonja a drink and joined them outside. The sun had come out and it was a beautiful afternoon.
The dessert was done 20 minutes early, the rolls went in and came out beatuifully (I do need work on the shaping), the potaotes were bubbly and the steaks were delish! Kyle made his own Easy Mac and Alec eventually joined us at the dinner table. I believe Sonja felt loved and special, which made me feel good. Maybe the idea of Mother's Day is lost on some teens, hopefully he will outgrow this stage and someday realize that making other people feel good makes you feel good too.
Lemon Pudding Cake with Fresh Mixed BerriesRecipe courtesy Tyler Florence, 2008
.Prep Time:25 minInactive Prep Time:--Cook Time:1 hr 0 minLevel:
IntermediateServes:
4 servings. Ingredients
•1 tablespoon unsalted butter
•2/3 cup superfine sugar
•2 eggs, separated
•2/3 cup reduced fat buttermilk
•2 tablespoons lemon juice
•1 tablespoon lemon zest
•1/4 cup all-purpose flour
•1/4 teaspoon salt
Garnish:
•1 cup fresh raspberries
•1 cup fresh blueberries
•1 cup fresh blackberries
•2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar
Directions
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Butter and lightly sugar 4 ramekins (about 1-cup size).
In a mixer, add egg yolks, buttermilk, lemon juice and lemon zest and beat until well combined. Reduce the speed to low and sift in flour, sugar and salt. Continue to mix until combined. Beat egg whites until you get stiff peaks then combine the 2 mixtures by gently folding them together, a little at a time. Divide evenly amongst ramekins then bake in a water bath - set ramekins in a roasting tray and fill with water halfway up the sides of the ramekins.
Bake for 60 minutes until the top springs back when gently pressed and the cakes have a nice golden brown color. Allow to cool slightly, then carefully invert onto a plate. Serve with fresh berries and dust with powdered sugar.
.Printed from FoodNetwork.com on Mon May 9 2011
© 2011 Television Food Network, G.P. All Rights Reserved
Parker House RollsRecipe courtesy Alton Brown, 2011
.Prep Time:40 minInactive Prep Time:1 hr 37 minCook Time:10 minLevel:
DifficultServes:
16 rolls.Ingredients
•Nonstick spray
•8 ounces warm whole milk (100 degrees F)
•2 1/4 ounces sugar (about 1/3 cup)
•1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon active dry yeast
•15 ounces all-purpose flour, plus extra for kneading
•2 egg yolks
•2 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
•4 ounces unsalted butter, 3 ounces at room temperature, 1 ounce chilled and cut into 16 small cubes
Directions
Spray a half sheet pan with nonstick spray and set aside.
Place the milk, sugar, yeast, flour, egg yolks, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Combine on low speed for 1 minute. Change the paddle attachment to the dough hook and rest the dough for 10 to 15 minutes.
Add 2 ounces of the room temperature butter and mix on low speed. Increase the speed to medium and mix until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl and you are able to gently pull the dough into a thin sheet that light will pass through, about 8 minutes.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and roll and shape with hands to form a large ball. Return dough to the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside in a warm, dry place to rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.
Remove the dough from the bowl and roll into a 16 by 3-inch log. Use a bench knife to cut the dough into 1 3/4-ounce portions, about 16 rolls. Using your loosely cupped hand, roll each portion on the counter until they tighten into small balls. Working 1 at a time, use a rolling pin to roll each small ball into a 3-inch circle or oval. Use the side of your hand or a small dowel to make an indentation across the middle of the circle. Place a small pat of chilled butter into the center of the indentation, then fold in half and gently press to seal the edges. Place the rolls, top-side down, onto the prepared sheet pan, spacing them evenly. Melt the remaining 1 ounce butter and brush the tops of the rolls. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside in a warm, dry place to rise until doubled in size, 30 to 40 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Remove the plastic wrap and bake until the rolls reach an internal temperature of 200 degrees F, 8 to 10 minutes. Rotate the pan halfway through baking.
Remove the pan to a cooling rack and cool for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.
For Brown and Serve option:
Assemble rolls as above, but bake as follows.
Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.
Bake until the outside of the rolls just begin to set but have not browned and the internal temperature is 185 degrees, about 30 minutes. Remove and cool on the pan for 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, remove the rolls from the pan and place on a cooling rack until they are room temperature, 30 to 40 minutes. Place the rolls in bags and freeze for up to 3 months.
To Finish:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Thaw the rolls for 60 to 90 minutes.
Spray a sheet pan with nonstick spray. Place the rolls on the prepared sheet pan and bake until the rolls reach an internal temperature of 200 degrees F. Rotate the pan halfway through baking, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove the pan to a cooling rack and cool for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.
.Printed from FoodNetwork.com on Mon May 9 2011
© 2011 Television Food Network, G.P. All Rights Reserved
Monday, May 9, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
My favorite New Food
Try not to be too shocked-I am writing about food again. Finally. I have been inspired by a simple, versatile food that has been right in front of me and yet never experienced. It is orzo pasta. A few months ago Joe and I were having dinner at Not Your Average Joe's and I ordered a lamb kabob dish that came with a side of orzo with goat cheese and spinach (I think). The lamb was fine, but the orzo wowed me. I was like, I could do this at home. I kind of get mad at myself for never thinking of it before.
So, the first time I tried it, I made it with chicken broth, fresh spinach, basil and Parmesan cheese. I could have eaten the whole pan. Actually, I might have. I wish the orzo was not a pasta, I wish it were a grain full of fiber and good for you, but it is not. However, you can certainly add in healthy things to make it a solid meal.
Tonight I came home from Zumba and the rest of the family had eaten leftovers. I wanted to eat healthy, after my junk food overload at the Red Sox two days before. I needed to get back on track. I have been trying to eat more fish and was craving seafood. I had some frozen shrimp on hand, so I decided to go with that. I start with about a tablespoon of butter in a saute pan. When the butter is melted I add in a cup of orzo and cook on medium for a few minutes and then add in a can of broth. I usually use chicken, but all I had was beef, so that is what I used. Bring it to a simmer and start chopping vegetables. I used a diced tomato, green pepper, frozen corn, spinach, cilantro, garlic, and shredded carrots. I ran the frozen shrimp under hot water for a few minutes and added that to the pan, then all of the vegetables. For seasoning, I used some Fiesta Seasoning from Tastefully Simple, but you could use any Cajun spice to taste. My orzo was obviously taking on a Spanish flare, so I added some black beans for good measure. To finish the dish, I added some Parmesan cheese and some shredded Mexican cheese. The entire dish takes only about 10 minutes to prepare.
So basically, you could take this idea and make it your own. I hope you try it and enjoy it as much as I did.
So, the first time I tried it, I made it with chicken broth, fresh spinach, basil and Parmesan cheese. I could have eaten the whole pan. Actually, I might have. I wish the orzo was not a pasta, I wish it were a grain full of fiber and good for you, but it is not. However, you can certainly add in healthy things to make it a solid meal.
Tonight I came home from Zumba and the rest of the family had eaten leftovers. I wanted to eat healthy, after my junk food overload at the Red Sox two days before. I needed to get back on track. I have been trying to eat more fish and was craving seafood. I had some frozen shrimp on hand, so I decided to go with that. I start with about a tablespoon of butter in a saute pan. When the butter is melted I add in a cup of orzo and cook on medium for a few minutes and then add in a can of broth. I usually use chicken, but all I had was beef, so that is what I used. Bring it to a simmer and start chopping vegetables. I used a diced tomato, green pepper, frozen corn, spinach, cilantro, garlic, and shredded carrots. I ran the frozen shrimp under hot water for a few minutes and added that to the pan, then all of the vegetables. For seasoning, I used some Fiesta Seasoning from Tastefully Simple, but you could use any Cajun spice to taste. My orzo was obviously taking on a Spanish flare, so I added some black beans for good measure. To finish the dish, I added some Parmesan cheese and some shredded Mexican cheese. The entire dish takes only about 10 minutes to prepare.
So basically, you could take this idea and make it your own. I hope you try it and enjoy it as much as I did.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
National Poetry Month
In honor of National Poetry Month, I am going to share some of my poetry. These are some of my favorites that I wrote back in college when I majored in writing.
Sleeping Beauty
By day she walks the streets
and even on the hottest days of summer
she wears a long black wool coat
and wrapped around her neck, a heavy scarf
that must have once been
a shade of white,
and a gray hat pulled down to her brow,
a seafarer braving a storm.
She stands on the corner of Congress Street
screaming of sin and evil.
Not preaching – – but an angry protest
to anyone who will listen.
She tells of hate – –
her hate of you,
a complete stranger.
She carries a Bible
tucked under her right arm
but never opens it,
clutching it's worn cover
as though ready
to use it any time.
But at night when she has finished
her bitter tirade,
she must sleep, as we all sleep.
And, if dreams that made
to rest our minds,
I hope dreams
are of Greek islands
and gentle Angels.
From the City
She left the city
to find truth
beyond skyscrapers
with shiny windows
reflecting the blurry image
the people rushing by,
somewhere beyond the limits
of subways
speeding through dark tunnels.
buried beneath the crowded streets.
She drove until she could no longer see
the tallest building on the horizon
looming in the rearview mirror.
She drove until she breathed fresh air
and the trees were not placed
on every corner,
but grew tall and thick
in forests.
She saw no people,
only signs of their existence
in lean-tos built
in a small clearings,
and clothes drying
on ropes tied between two trees.
She saw unfamiliar animals
walking gracefully through open fields.
From a hill,
she overlooked a pond,
the water still and glassy.
She ran down the hill
holding her arms out
to keep balance.
Sitting on a log,
she leaned over the calm water
like a portrait,
only she was smiling.
Homophobia
At your trial
the prosecution
uses the witnesses to show
you have no morals.
Your parents say
they think
they
did something wrong.
A fat woman stands
and says
there's nothin' a woman
can do for me
that a man can't.
A man wearing
tight Wranglers
proudly states
that all you need
is a good fuck.
A precher says
that AIDS
was sent
to kill
you off.
The jury frowns,
believing that
you are
unnatural-
the Bible says so.
Your only defense is
"I love her."
Sleeping Beauty
By day she walks the streets
and even on the hottest days of summer
she wears a long black wool coat
and wrapped around her neck, a heavy scarf
that must have once been
a shade of white,
and a gray hat pulled down to her brow,
a seafarer braving a storm.
She stands on the corner of Congress Street
screaming of sin and evil.
Not preaching – – but an angry protest
to anyone who will listen.
She tells of hate – –
her hate of you,
a complete stranger.
She carries a Bible
tucked under her right arm
but never opens it,
clutching it's worn cover
as though ready
to use it any time.
But at night when she has finished
her bitter tirade,
she must sleep, as we all sleep.
And, if dreams that made
to rest our minds,
I hope dreams
are of Greek islands
and gentle Angels.
From the City
She left the city
to find truth
beyond skyscrapers
with shiny windows
reflecting the blurry image
the people rushing by,
somewhere beyond the limits
of subways
speeding through dark tunnels.
buried beneath the crowded streets.
She drove until she could no longer see
the tallest building on the horizon
looming in the rearview mirror.
She drove until she breathed fresh air
and the trees were not placed
on every corner,
but grew tall and thick
in forests.
She saw no people,
only signs of their existence
in lean-tos built
in a small clearings,
and clothes drying
on ropes tied between two trees.
She saw unfamiliar animals
walking gracefully through open fields.
From a hill,
she overlooked a pond,
the water still and glassy.
She ran down the hill
holding her arms out
to keep balance.
Sitting on a log,
she leaned over the calm water
like a portrait,
only she was smiling.
Homophobia
At your trial
the prosecution
uses the witnesses to show
you have no morals.
Your parents say
they think
they
did something wrong.
A fat woman stands
and says
there's nothin' a woman
can do for me
that a man can't.
A man wearing
tight Wranglers
proudly states
that all you need
is a good fuck.
A precher says
that AIDS
was sent
to kill
you off.
The jury frowns,
believing that
you are
unnatural-
the Bible says so.
Your only defense is
"I love her."
Friday, April 8, 2011
Mid life Crisis?
Life is funny. It really is. Not always laugh out loud funny, sometimes more the isn't it interesting funny. I have been doing a lot of contemplating lately and have come to some realizations that strike me as funny (in the odd sense of the word).
Isn't it funny how if you choose a point in your past life and try to think of what at that point in your life you would have expected your now present life to be like, it has no resemblance to the life you are actually living. In my teenage mind, I suppose I would have pictured myself married with children at this point, but that is where the resemblance ends. I can't say whether I pictured it better or worse, just different. Because really, how much of being a wife and mother does a teen comprehend? Fast forward a few years and my 25 year old self, a newlywed and mother to an infant, I knew I would someday be the mother to that infant as a teen but didn't picture it like this.
Do you think that if we were able to accurately envision what our future holds we would continue on, or freeze in our tracks?
Isn't it funny how we may look in the mirror every day and see the same face, so the gradual changes don't appear as glaring discrepancies. Can you even picture your elderly self? How does it even happen? You look in the mirror every day and one day your skin is no longer firm and smooth, your hair no longer lush and shiny. You see an old picture of your partner and forget they ever looked so young. We forget the sweet voices of our toddlers as they deepen through the years. If videos and photographs didn't exist would we have an accurate memory of these precious images?
Isn't it funny how life can change on a dime? One day your are healthy and then next fighting for your life? You can be down on your luck, standing in the unemployment line and win the lottery. The thing is, we never know. We do the best we can to ensure our health and secure our future but ultimately it is not always in our control.
It probably sounds like I am going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe I am. Mid-life being the perfect time to look forward and backwards and contemplate. Mid-life being the perfect time to pause and soak in the wisdom life has given us before moving forward to whatever life will present.
Isn't it funny how if you choose a point in your past life and try to think of what at that point in your life you would have expected your now present life to be like, it has no resemblance to the life you are actually living. In my teenage mind, I suppose I would have pictured myself married with children at this point, but that is where the resemblance ends. I can't say whether I pictured it better or worse, just different. Because really, how much of being a wife and mother does a teen comprehend? Fast forward a few years and my 25 year old self, a newlywed and mother to an infant, I knew I would someday be the mother to that infant as a teen but didn't picture it like this.
Do you think that if we were able to accurately envision what our future holds we would continue on, or freeze in our tracks?
Isn't it funny how we may look in the mirror every day and see the same face, so the gradual changes don't appear as glaring discrepancies. Can you even picture your elderly self? How does it even happen? You look in the mirror every day and one day your skin is no longer firm and smooth, your hair no longer lush and shiny. You see an old picture of your partner and forget they ever looked so young. We forget the sweet voices of our toddlers as they deepen through the years. If videos and photographs didn't exist would we have an accurate memory of these precious images?
Isn't it funny how life can change on a dime? One day your are healthy and then next fighting for your life? You can be down on your luck, standing in the unemployment line and win the lottery. The thing is, we never know. We do the best we can to ensure our health and secure our future but ultimately it is not always in our control.
It probably sounds like I am going through a mid-life crisis. Maybe I am. Mid-life being the perfect time to look forward and backwards and contemplate. Mid-life being the perfect time to pause and soak in the wisdom life has given us before moving forward to whatever life will present.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Recycling
I haven't written in a while. My husband has found that he is able to get more work done when he is using every computer in the house simultaneously. Thus, my time for being creative is spend being annoyed and waiting patiently (not really) for Joe to get his new laptop so that I can write when the mood strikes. In the meantime, I am going to cheat and post some of the newspaper columns that I wrote during my brief, but satisfying, stint as a published writer. I hope you enjoy.
The Joy of Cooking
I stand in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, arms laden with my favorite ingredients: sun dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, pesto, fresh parmesan. My mind creates flavor combinations that instantly cause my mouth to salivate. I search the vegetable drawer to see what is on hand. Fresh, thin, green asparagus –oh I am in heaven. I stop for a moment to consider the others I am feeding. Joe, my husband, would rather have a meaty tomato sauce with sausage and meatballs. Actually, he would probably even prefer Spaghetti O’s. Alec, who is 12, loves artichokes but not so much the asparagus. It is too late to reconsider; my mind is already made up. They will just have to deal with my taste for tonight.
The sauce begins with olive oil and sausage. These are not just ordinary sausage, but special ordered from Sausage Heaven located in New Hampshire. You can’t even compare these to any they have in the local grocery store. You won’t find any indistinguishable hard lumps in these. Cheddar garlic is my choice for tonight and the smell is amazing. When the sausage is gently browned, I toss in the vegetables and add some white wine and pesto. The smell begins to engulf the kitchen and then enters Kyle, my eight year old.
“Whatcha making for me?” he says, peering into the pan.
He asks this question every night, fearing that there won’t be a plain carbohydrate in sight. Kyle is one of those children who won’t eat anything. He has a plain palate and desperate fear of trying anything new. He is also extremely stubborn. We have consulted his pediatrician, who assures us that children will not starve themselves. I believe Kyle would starve before eating anything that has a trace of color.
We have tried everything. First we tried making him sit at the table until he ate his dinner. Then it became just sit there until you try it. He would sit at the table, in the dark, until it was time to go to bed before he would even put one taste on his lips. We have tried bribery, trickery, begging, and loss of privileges. We even tried Dr. Phil’s suggestion of giving him the same plate of food over and over until he eats it. Think about that. If they aren’t willing to try it when it is fresh and looks good, what makes him think they will eat it when it is three days old and dried up? Seriously.
Alec emerges from his video game induced coma to see what smells so good. He is quick to note that I have used artichokes and believing he is unnoticed begins to sneak them into his mouth. He would continue this practice if I didn’t tell him to leave some for the rest of us. I mean me.
“Mom, what am I going to eat?” Kyle persists.
“I don’t know, Kyle. What are you going to eat?” I sigh, adding pasta to a bubbling pot. Relieved to see there is in fact something he will eat being prepared, Kyle grabs a fist of the uncooked spaghetti and munches while waiting for the rest to cook. I add the fresh parmesan to the sauce and set the table.
Joe comes home from work just as I add some pasta to the sauce, making sure to leave some plain for Kyle.
“Good timing,” I say. “Dinner is ready.”
“Oh,” he says. “I’m not really hungry. I just had Japanese at a late lunch meeting.”
At this moment I am very happy I had to open a bottle of wine to make the sauce. Pouring myself a glass, I sit down and savor a meal I made for myself, which rarely happens these days.
The Joy of Cooking
I stand in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, arms laden with my favorite ingredients: sun dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, pesto, fresh parmesan. My mind creates flavor combinations that instantly cause my mouth to salivate. I search the vegetable drawer to see what is on hand. Fresh, thin, green asparagus –oh I am in heaven. I stop for a moment to consider the others I am feeding. Joe, my husband, would rather have a meaty tomato sauce with sausage and meatballs. Actually, he would probably even prefer Spaghetti O’s. Alec, who is 12, loves artichokes but not so much the asparagus. It is too late to reconsider; my mind is already made up. They will just have to deal with my taste for tonight.
The sauce begins with olive oil and sausage. These are not just ordinary sausage, but special ordered from Sausage Heaven located in New Hampshire. You can’t even compare these to any they have in the local grocery store. You won’t find any indistinguishable hard lumps in these. Cheddar garlic is my choice for tonight and the smell is amazing. When the sausage is gently browned, I toss in the vegetables and add some white wine and pesto. The smell begins to engulf the kitchen and then enters Kyle, my eight year old.
“Whatcha making for me?” he says, peering into the pan.
He asks this question every night, fearing that there won’t be a plain carbohydrate in sight. Kyle is one of those children who won’t eat anything. He has a plain palate and desperate fear of trying anything new. He is also extremely stubborn. We have consulted his pediatrician, who assures us that children will not starve themselves. I believe Kyle would starve before eating anything that has a trace of color.
We have tried everything. First we tried making him sit at the table until he ate his dinner. Then it became just sit there until you try it. He would sit at the table, in the dark, until it was time to go to bed before he would even put one taste on his lips. We have tried bribery, trickery, begging, and loss of privileges. We even tried Dr. Phil’s suggestion of giving him the same plate of food over and over until he eats it. Think about that. If they aren’t willing to try it when it is fresh and looks good, what makes him think they will eat it when it is three days old and dried up? Seriously.
Alec emerges from his video game induced coma to see what smells so good. He is quick to note that I have used artichokes and believing he is unnoticed begins to sneak them into his mouth. He would continue this practice if I didn’t tell him to leave some for the rest of us. I mean me.
“Mom, what am I going to eat?” Kyle persists.
“I don’t know, Kyle. What are you going to eat?” I sigh, adding pasta to a bubbling pot. Relieved to see there is in fact something he will eat being prepared, Kyle grabs a fist of the uncooked spaghetti and munches while waiting for the rest to cook. I add the fresh parmesan to the sauce and set the table.
Joe comes home from work just as I add some pasta to the sauce, making sure to leave some plain for Kyle.
“Good timing,” I say. “Dinner is ready.”
“Oh,” he says. “I’m not really hungry. I just had Japanese at a late lunch meeting.”
At this moment I am very happy I had to open a bottle of wine to make the sauce. Pouring myself a glass, I sit down and savor a meal I made for myself, which rarely happens these days.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Rebuilding
Although I don't want to beat a dead horse, my life seems to be tied up in the well being of my teen son. I apologize if my blogs seem repetitive and just plain negative. The past few weeks have been up an down; the ups being that nothing bad happened that day, and the downs being a variety of issues. One of the prevalent issues has been dealing with the fact that Alec has been bullied at school. This is not really a new development. It has actually been going on in some form or another for years. It has only recently become an issue that we are dealing with rather than trying to have Alec to handle it on his own, because simply put-he wasn't. He would be called names and he would shrink. He would disappear. He has been doing this for a while and I believe it is a big reason of why he is in the low place he is now.
It is a law in Massachusetts now that the schools have to deal with bullying. It is a law that they provide students with a safe environment to learn. So, we have had meetings at the school to discuss how to stop the bullying. If you look at the situation, you realize that it is not a simple problem to resolve. There are kids that bully. They act this way for a number of reasons, maybe they are insecure and use posturing to gain a sense of power; maybe they want to look cool and think that by being mean they achieve this status. The list of reasons can go on and on. Just by telling them to stop doesn't mean they will. Then you have the victims. They may be kids who are shy and withdrawn and seem like an easy target, unlikely to take action; they may be different in appearance or behavior. Again, the list could go on.
We have tried for many years to get Alec to change his position in this equation. If he stood up to the bully he would not appear weak and an easy target. The other kids may look at him differently and the teasing would stop. He doesn't see this as an option, even at his almost 6 foot stature. No matter what we tell him, he continues to disappear. The school has spoken to the bullies and they now see Alec as a "snitch". So, what happens next? We need to rebuild the confidence and self esteem of a boy who has started to believe he is what they say. Our homework assignment -to make a list of the things we like about Alec and he to write a list for himself. It wasn't hard for me. Although he is a teen and going through a "phase" I am not particularly fond of, he still encompasses great human qualities, such as compassion and empathy. His list is blank. He cannot think of one thing he likes about himself. I suppose we are all a work in progress, some just have farther to go.
It is a law in Massachusetts now that the schools have to deal with bullying. It is a law that they provide students with a safe environment to learn. So, we have had meetings at the school to discuss how to stop the bullying. If you look at the situation, you realize that it is not a simple problem to resolve. There are kids that bully. They act this way for a number of reasons, maybe they are insecure and use posturing to gain a sense of power; maybe they want to look cool and think that by being mean they achieve this status. The list of reasons can go on and on. Just by telling them to stop doesn't mean they will. Then you have the victims. They may be kids who are shy and withdrawn and seem like an easy target, unlikely to take action; they may be different in appearance or behavior. Again, the list could go on.
We have tried for many years to get Alec to change his position in this equation. If he stood up to the bully he would not appear weak and an easy target. The other kids may look at him differently and the teasing would stop. He doesn't see this as an option, even at his almost 6 foot stature. No matter what we tell him, he continues to disappear. The school has spoken to the bullies and they now see Alec as a "snitch". So, what happens next? We need to rebuild the confidence and self esteem of a boy who has started to believe he is what they say. Our homework assignment -to make a list of the things we like about Alec and he to write a list for himself. It wasn't hard for me. Although he is a teen and going through a "phase" I am not particularly fond of, he still encompasses great human qualities, such as compassion and empathy. His list is blank. He cannot think of one thing he likes about himself. I suppose we are all a work in progress, some just have farther to go.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Hope in Progress
When you decide as a couple to have children, it is a decision based on love. You bring a baby home from the hospital with dreams of picnics on the beach, building sandcastles, teaching them to ride a bike and the happiness you will experience as a family. You want them to grow knowing love, security and a sense of well being. Kids do not come with a manual. Each and every child is different and there is no one direct path to creating happiness for them. We, as parents, do the best we can. What happens when the plans stray from the path we envisioned? What do we do when the child we love does not sail with ease through life's transitions?
When Alec was born 15 years ago, I thought my life could not have been more perfect. We had experienced a scare when Joe was almost killed in a car accident during my 5th month of pregnancy. By the time Alec was born, Joe was pretty much fully recovered. Life was back on track and things were looking good. We enjoyed our family life- taking bike rides, hikes, and playing peek a boo with our beautiful, happy baby boy. We knew Alec was bright from a very early age. I remember when he was eight months old and said "monkey" and then made a monkey sound. When he was four years old and the pediatrician asked him a series of questions, such as the names of shapes, she was amazed that he could name a hexagon and that a child this age knew the difference between male and female. We were happy that he was smart. That should mean school was breeze and his future should unfold easily before him. Unfortunately, being smart sometimes has other effects. During our first ever school conference with his kindergarten teacher she told us we needed to hug and tickle Alec more. We had no idea what she meant. I am pretty sure if we tickled him more, it might constitute abuse. We were very silly and happy parents. It didn't make sense. Alec was a serious fve year old, but what is wrong with that?
Imagine being a child, but seeing the world through the eyes of an adult. I think that is what Alec sees. He always seemed to worry about things a child should never even think about. His unusual perspective and sensitivity have made him different. He has never felt like he fit in with his peers. His self confidence and self esteem suffered. Alec is now 15 years old- an age that can be difficult under the best of circumstances. Teenagers want desperately to belong, to fit in and be accepted. This year Alec decided to join football. Joe and I were perplexed but also somewhat relieved. This could be a great way for him to make friends and be physically active. When he came home from the first couple of practices smiling, I was overjoyed. It didn't last long though. After a couple more practices in the overbearing heat of August, he was done. He wanted to quit. Joe and I disagreed. The heat would be over soon, the fun part would begin-it would get better. We told him to suck it up.
The saying hindsight is 20/20 could not be truer in this case. What followed our decision to make him stick it out was like spiraling into a black hole. His already low self confidence and self esteem basically disappeared when he felt like he was terrible at the sport and that his teammates recognised this. As I was writing this last week, I got a call from the school adjustment counselor. Alec had been talking to her and we needed to go down to the school right away. After a very painful discussion about how Alec was feeling, the decision was made to allow Alec to quit football.
Joe and I have been feeling tremendous guilt that what we viewed as an important life lesson caused Alec to feel so bad. We do still believe there are values gained in sticking it through something that is difficult. We have also learned that some lessons are not so important if the cost is too great.
We are working on healing now. A teenager's self confidence needs repairing. As parents, our self confidence has also been damaged. We are moving forward cautiously and hope soon we will look back on this period as a time of necessary growth.
When Alec was born 15 years ago, I thought my life could not have been more perfect. We had experienced a scare when Joe was almost killed in a car accident during my 5th month of pregnancy. By the time Alec was born, Joe was pretty much fully recovered. Life was back on track and things were looking good. We enjoyed our family life- taking bike rides, hikes, and playing peek a boo with our beautiful, happy baby boy. We knew Alec was bright from a very early age. I remember when he was eight months old and said "monkey" and then made a monkey sound. When he was four years old and the pediatrician asked him a series of questions, such as the names of shapes, she was amazed that he could name a hexagon and that a child this age knew the difference between male and female. We were happy that he was smart. That should mean school was breeze and his future should unfold easily before him. Unfortunately, being smart sometimes has other effects. During our first ever school conference with his kindergarten teacher she told us we needed to hug and tickle Alec more. We had no idea what she meant. I am pretty sure if we tickled him more, it might constitute abuse. We were very silly and happy parents. It didn't make sense. Alec was a serious fve year old, but what is wrong with that?
Imagine being a child, but seeing the world through the eyes of an adult. I think that is what Alec sees. He always seemed to worry about things a child should never even think about. His unusual perspective and sensitivity have made him different. He has never felt like he fit in with his peers. His self confidence and self esteem suffered. Alec is now 15 years old- an age that can be difficult under the best of circumstances. Teenagers want desperately to belong, to fit in and be accepted. This year Alec decided to join football. Joe and I were perplexed but also somewhat relieved. This could be a great way for him to make friends and be physically active. When he came home from the first couple of practices smiling, I was overjoyed. It didn't last long though. After a couple more practices in the overbearing heat of August, he was done. He wanted to quit. Joe and I disagreed. The heat would be over soon, the fun part would begin-it would get better. We told him to suck it up.
The saying hindsight is 20/20 could not be truer in this case. What followed our decision to make him stick it out was like spiraling into a black hole. His already low self confidence and self esteem basically disappeared when he felt like he was terrible at the sport and that his teammates recognised this. As I was writing this last week, I got a call from the school adjustment counselor. Alec had been talking to her and we needed to go down to the school right away. After a very painful discussion about how Alec was feeling, the decision was made to allow Alec to quit football.
Joe and I have been feeling tremendous guilt that what we viewed as an important life lesson caused Alec to feel so bad. We do still believe there are values gained in sticking it through something that is difficult. We have also learned that some lessons are not so important if the cost is too great.
We are working on healing now. A teenager's self confidence needs repairing. As parents, our self confidence has also been damaged. We are moving forward cautiously and hope soon we will look back on this period as a time of necessary growth.
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