Brooke

daughter, i owe you

dear temple, i owe you.  mama owes you.  i owe you a birthday post, a letter about you being four and the universe that lives inside of you and the magic and joy you bring to this world.  it is coming, i promise.

but something else is breaking through, this sudden clarity and emotional fullness that i've been feeling for weeks now.  maybe it started in chicago, at starbucks that morning when i saw a father with his two daughters, getting hot cocoa on one of the last rainy spring mornings in april.  i imagined the girls' mother at home, sleeping in or writing in her journal or lounging in her cozy bathrobe.  the father happy and delighted with his girls, enjoying the morning and letting the world fall away so that important shit can get done.  important shit like having hot cocoa with his daughters.  the really important stuff - the importance of that tiny moment, of claiming life in the midst of struggling to pull off the whole gong show, to put away adult concerns and live in child-time.  to enjoy hot cocoa in the drizzle of a saturday morning.

there was also something about realizing how far down this road i've travelled without really being aware of how fast life has been moving. incremental moments leading me so fully into the middle of my life.  once a city girl, an adventurer, i realized how i've forcably quieted my wanderlust and chosen a small town over a city. i've opened one door after another which has inevitably closed so many others.  how joy now includes chores and duty and obligations and showing up on a daily basis purely in the service of others.  how city streets and freedom have been replaced by mortgages and a garage. 

as i walked the streets of chicago remembering every city i've ever lived in and every city i've ever fallen in love with, and more importantly remembering how i fell in love with myself in new ways in every city i've ever been in, it was suddenly clear - i've become a new woman and mother leaving other pieces behind without knowing when or where it happened. there is a bit of grief in letting go, of parting ways with that former self, but the world is so rich and there are cities and adventures yet to come. 

i am overcome with a deep sense of gratitude and joy, filled so completely with this aching pleasure over my very imperfect life.  that in spite of the stress and my human failings and not giving my husband as much attention as i should, my children are healthy, well-fed, happy, wanted, a pure pleasure, one of the deepest loves i've ever known - we have each other and we belong together.  after struggling and deep doubt, there is a sense of wholeness so complete.

working so much and stretching myself thinner than i ever thought possible has put a microscope on my feelings.  that and how fast my life is flying as these children grow, i am suddenly, intensely focused on grasping moments to anchor myself to, moments that wake me up to this gift of time and health and breath to share. i am suddenly trying to wake up to life.

but this is not a sickening sweetness.  it is brutal too.  as soon as i count my blessings, i spiral into fear that this is all fleeting, that nobody gets this lucky for this long.  i wait for the hammer to drop.  the ax to fall.  i dream of the terrible, horrid things that can happen.

i once learned that hypnotism works on the power of suggestion.  that thinking about biting into a tart, juicy, green apple will produce the same physiological response as actually biting into one.  so i torture myself with fears of terminal illnesses, tragic accidents and my body reacts like it is happening.  to further plague myself with terror i watch movies about anne frank or orphans in haiti, poverty stricken immigrants or catastrophic events like modern-day cruise ships sinking or google again the loss of that one poor boy flying from brazil to boarding school in france in the fated flight of 2010.  by going there, i AM every one of them. just to prove to myself i should be grateful, i agonize over all the things that could tear this joy out from under me.  my heart and body a fragile mess of waiting and fear - so guilty over the great fortune that has blessed my family.

once, in a moment of clarity soon after satchel had been born, i told another new mother that parenting is like riding the razor's edge of pleasure and pain.  it is the most beautiful and the most terrifying experience one can know.  the depths of love are equal only by the opposite possibilities.  how do we live with this intensity??

maybe it is an addiction, this parenting thing.  it forces an adrenaline rush and endorphin surges and hormonal reactions that we cannot control.  i am addicted to my children, to motherhood, to love. once i challenged myself and tested my limits by taking the subway alone or landing on a grassy tarmac in west africa, by living in the ghetto or making friends with people because they were so different from me.  now i test my limits by mothering.  by being a wife.  everyday i work and struggle and try.

i live in the state of terror/joy for this:

lately i've been overcome with clarity that this moment is important.  every single moment is brutally important and that knowledge is both a gift and a life sentence.  who can live as though every moment is the last?  but it can't be helped.  the deep gaze as i say goodbye each morning before school, sending my kids off on their bikes with matt....off they go to school, one second away from a swerving car and texting driver.  but who stops their kids from the pleasure of a bike ride on a crisp and sunny spring morning?

i've found the tiny morsel of truth that i am in charge of this life, and that i can create a life that feels right for us. too bad i'm such a chicken.  that i want to live like an adventurer when i'm really a freak. luckly i've had a few good teachers - other mothers and friends who have shown me that freedom lies in being true to themselves even when their vision takes them to uncharted territory. they may be scared, but they do it and they find happiness not in the results always but in listening to themselves.  they are inspirations for me and i've learned to honor myself by witnessing them honor their own unique formula for life - crazy or idiosyncratic or blasphemous.  they live the way they do because they have to. because they deserve it. i love them because they know themselves - and what a beautiful thing that is!  to confidently be a mother and woman living a unique life, an authentic one...that is a poetic and transcendent and powerful thing.

so i've been overcome lately with listening in, tuning to my inner whispers about what is important, what i need to hear and know. it evokes such freedom! it invites so much possibility. this clarity and desire.  i'm intoxicated by it.  living in some free-fall of inner knowing.  the stomach in my throat, the sweating palms and grasping hands of freefall. clarity that isn't about rules but about questions and staring wide-eyed into space.  allowing fear to guide me more deeply to the story of my life and the joy that will make my family whole, happy, free. but only if i am happy, whole and free.  it starts with me.

 

hijacked

april was hijacked by life.  it literally disappeared in a blur of work and baby goodness and a film festival and a trip to chicago for my nephew's birth.

my nephew, emil amadeus, is amazing and perfect and my sister, well she is pretty much a rock star.  a veteran mama who made birth look like the most natural, important thing on earth.  which it is.  and she is a poster child for it. 

i had a love affair with chicago while i was there.  it reminded me of every city i've ever lived in (or fallen in love with - like Paris and Barcelona and Fez and New York) and it reminded me of who i am, why i love city living.  riding the el alone or the bus, people watching, the world coming up against each other, everything at your finger tips - from artsy shops to indian food to tree-lined streets and an abundance of unique schooling options and public transportation, funky coffee shops, curated book stores...you name it.  it is all there.  you get to be whoever you want in any given moment. 

walking alone one night, just a few blocks away to the drug store, i felt so incredibly alive...alive in a way i haven't for a long time.  my wanderlust was there and my independence and my dreams.

coming home was sweet too.  seeing how our family is dependent on all four of us to be whole - how much they missed me while i was gone and how anxious i was to return - it was a reminder of how lucky i am.

yesterday was the one month anniversary of temple's fourth birthday.  she turned four on april 6th and i've yet to write about it.  there is so much to say about who she is becoming and where we have come from, together.  stay tuned for more soon...

roller derby

one of the films i'm promoting at work is a roller derby film.  a diy sport run by women with names like val capone.  it is tough and full of heart.  modern gladiators in fish nets who apparently have 'wives' among each other.  because we all need wives, right? and i'm right there with them.  adrenaline.  ferocity. style.  community. heart. and the need for a wife of my own.

someone to make sure i have a hot meal.  the dishes done.  the kids hair washed. the laundry saved from going sour in the washing machine.

work has been *hugely* consuming lately. clients and projects that are - quite literally - game changers.  things like world premieres, red carpets and the executive editor of a huge hollywood glossy calling me from his personal cell phone to talk for 20 minutes. 

sometimes the game makes me woozy from the fumes of fame.  and i'm so tangential, so peripheral, so confused and dazed by the whole affair.  so i put my nose to the grindstone and focus on results for my clients.  i focus on details:  the signed book for the gift bag, the subtlely altered media list, the perfect pitch, the right dimensions for a tartan runner over the red carpet. and i try to forget that the people i'm working with have staffs and nannys and administrative assistants.  me, i am a one-stop shop.

my inbox is flooded with upwards of 175 emails a day. i have names coming across my screen that shout - proceed with caution!!! i don't want to mess up my big chance to make a first impression and land a loyal contact in my rolodex.

in all of this, most important are my kiddos.  they pick up on everything.  they know mama does 'pr' even if they don't know what it means.  that mama is on the computer a lot and that she dresses up and goes out at night.  they are kinda stoked when i get them into an animated world premiere or a launch event with mariachi bands and tacos.  but mostly, my world makes no sense to them.

the other day - in the midst of this overwhelm - i realized that i am really proud of becoming a working mom.

it took me three years after satchel was born to become a comfortable, full-fledged mom.  well, it has taken me two years to become a working mom.  and just like being a mom got better after temple was born, i imagine that my working-motherhood will only get better with time too.

but now that i have hit some kind of stride as a working mom, i'm surprisingly proud of how i have navigated this road.  how i've worked with our schedule and our needs and our particularities as a family and still been able to carve out sacred family time.  to give my kids the love & attention they deserve.  to shower them with kisses and know what goes on at school - who is best friends this week, what the spelling words are, when its garden day or music day, the names of friends at play group and on sports teams. that i force myself to turn off my phone (and resist my computer) each morning during breakfast and again at dinnertime.  to ignore the work that is piling up until family time - dinner, bath, bed and stories - are done. 

to my kids, i am a mom first and everything else is second.  to *me* i am a mom first.

******

on motherhood and moonlighting.

i happen to be one of those people who believe mothering - parenting- is a fulltime job.  a profession and life calling worth devoting one's self to.  a role of service and devotion and hope for the future...everything else a full-time parent does is moonlighting.

these days, i bump along.  mothering and moonlighting.  many of my emails and work exchanges shared with socialites who have no children, artsy young men who've not yet committed, gay crumudgeons who work until the wee hours of the night, devoted artists who drink coffee and create until the muse is finished with them, wealthy folks with staffs and 'people' to run their lives.  i smile and email and respond at 7 pm (their cocktail hour/my kids' bathtime) and at 11 (their event or dinner time/my reading time-only quiet time) and at 3 am (creative time/cherished sleeping time) because that is what we do in the business world these days - or any world really.  we never stop. 

but if you have kids to get to school at 8:00 or children who just might wake you in the night with fever or you have cupcakes to make for school or costumes to prepare, the 'never stop' leaves you with zero sleep and an empty gas tank.

in my profession  i battle with mature men who've been doing this forever or with young minions who are free to party, schmooze and work whenever they feel like it. i often feel like i'm never gonna make it.

and then, sometimes, i meet amazing mothers who raise their kids *and* rock their professional world. these women see my hunger, know that - like them - i can juggle the shit outta life and they give me a chance.  they want to partner with me and all of a sudden i am working just as hard, but with colleagues who understand just what it means when i write them back in the middle of bathtime or that when i am awake at 4, already starting my day with emails, its because my children are too precious to use up family time to get emails done.

this perfect confluence of women-power has happened lots of late and i must say, together we are kicking some conventional ass. 

you see, when you are a mother, your plate is full.  your day is full.  and when you add work to the mix - unless there are nannies or maids or cooks to take some of it off your plate - you really have to start a second plate.  and the juggling begins.

so i've been thinking lots lately about the mother i always wanted to be.  this ideal mother was a mother who was devoted to her kids.  a mother who could show up at school and help.  a mother who did crafts and read stories and played games.  a mother who had time for herself so she could re-fill and come to her children with abundance and reserves. a mother who tended to being a woman so she could love her mate and take care of her husband too.

what i'm living, well, it's different than that. but what i've realized is that my devotion to my children is unwavering.  family time is sacred...maybe even more so since i am stretched so thin.  but i still play games and volunteer at school and read stories.  i am fiercely protective of our family time.  that time is theirs. and the time we carve out is quality time.  intensely connected time - even when it is simply making a kettle of popcorn and piling in bed together to watch survivor. and when i mothered fulltime, the kids could become a drain.  now, they are my reward. i ache for them and cannot wait to get home to them each day.  this, in its own way, is a gift.

last night, after working at 3 am, i crawled in between the kids who were having a camp-out on the futon in the playroom.  i needed to be near them more than i needed good sleep.  satchel's arm flung out over me, temples little feet in my belly.  i lay there in the dark and listened to them breathe.

and you know what, it might have taken me two years to go from being a mother to being a working mother - to navigate that map - but right now i am really proud of what i have been able to accomplish.

when i started this new juggle, i wasn't sure if i'd ever get 'there.' and maybe i'm not there yet.  but it is a process of integration that is coming along. 

nine

my dear, dear satchel,

how did you go from 9 pounds to 9 years?  i am still stunned by the perfection of you at birth...the jet black hair, the mystic eyes and steady gaze, the ancient frown at the apex of your brows, the dusting of fur along your spine, the xyliphone of your tiny rib cage, the caterpillar legs that danced their way to my breast, your gaping & hungry mouth that tore me from my post-birth stupor into motherhood - sucking greedily and needing me.  wake up mommy, wake up.  i'm here now.

for three years, we were one.  well, actually - you were you, born perfect and ready to take over the world.  and i, in my fetal mother state was living through you.  symbiotically.  i fed and held and caressed and bathed and nurtured and smiled and breathed you in.  i lived for you those first few years.  we grew together, me bleeding my best self into your veins while i stood aside and watched you thrive.  my milk a daily offering to your growth.  and you let me give, finding healing in our days as you grew.  you came to this world joyful, silly, smart, muscular, curious, happy.  so delighted and delightful, you called me along this new path. 

today i value your steadiness.  your enthusiasm.  your sparkling smile and twinkling eyes.  your willingness to step into this river of life and enjoy.  as i watch you with friends and authority figures - you adored by all - sometimes i actually wish you showed more discernment.  your tender, bleeding heart allows them all in.  just like me, your mama.  this vulnerability has been my greatest teacher.  i have tried on so many lives this way, so many truths, so many emotions.  it has served me well.  but it is also a challenge, when your edges merge in love with so many people and so many beliefs.  you become a beating heart of nerve endings.  i know this from experience. but i wouldn't trade it in myself and even though i want to protect you from pain, i hope you never lose this wonder towards the world.

after a year of big milestones:  braces off.  really getting the reading thing. with words and an alphabet at your disposal, the whole world has opened to you and your imagination - you read plays with dramatic intonation and poems with rhythm and meter.  after a longer struggle with reading than some, you get it now. 

you've also started playing sports in earnest - baseball, basketball, tae kwon do...finding your way with new friends on sports teams and the boys & girls club.  you have flown from your safe little world and everywhere you go it is like fairy dust.  pj, our astrologer, told me that you were born under the 'part of fortune' (actually you and your sister both!) and that this touch of magic will charm your life. i am grateful that you have an easiness about you as you enter the world without me.  i think your happiness comes above all other qualities that i might wish for you and it helps me worry less.  trusting your debut into this next phase of life.

for your birthday this year, you wanted a surprise party.  imagine me pulling that off after you *asked* for it.  but we did it!  and you were as gracious and composed that night as i've ever seen you. a true host. and to watch you with your friends, hugging and romping like puppy dogs, it makes me so happy that you have community and love around you.

but even before your surprise party, we celebrated you the way i love best - on your real birthday,  shared with your grandfather, simply and surrounded by our family. 

it was filled with fun & the best presents ever according to you. lots of things starwars.  an awesome wooden strategy game called quarto.  balloons.  potting soil & seeds for his own garden this summer from one uncle.  a very cool locked treasure box from another uncle - decorated in pennies and a big houdini style lock & key, engraved cufflinks from another uncle, art supplies from my mom and a hand-sewn quiver for your new graphite pencils, several amazing books and a remote control car from grandpa.  you scored.

and i got to spend the afternoon cooking a celebration meal - one of my favorite past-times! busha made carrot cake.  we sang and you stood side by side with guppie to blow out your candles.

these are the little details that make up our life.  love & magic.  good food & fun. i hope you remember them forever. because the rest of us will never forget. your birth is one of the favorite days of my year.  of my life.

you are nine little boy.  my little fish who came by air.  i will always love you more than life itself.

happy birthday sweet, sweet satchel.

love,

mama

thoughts on marriage and a wedding

marriage is hard.  one of the hardest thing i've ever done in fact. 

in this disposable world, marriage is among the most threatened commodities.  a lifetime promise that has a 50% exit clause. 

this past weekend my youngest brother was married.  it was a gorgeous weekend full of promise and sunny skies and brilliant vistas and a gathering of family and love all around.  there was a cozy lodge, good food and a rockin' dance party.  pretty dresses, handsome men.  cocktails and jewels and new babies.  touching speaches and inspiring toasts. 

everything one wants in a wedding.

but me, i am in the middle of a marriage and that is a very different animal.  i looked at the bride & groom, preparing to take off on their honeymoon and i thought: fuck, it's the 10-year marriage that deserves a honeymoon.  someway to get back to the promise and the butterflies in your stomach and the feeling that your entire tribe is behind you, supporting your love.  taking photos of your smiles, and your kisses and recording the loving look still in your eyes - even after a decade of being in the trenches together. stuffing $20 bills into your pocket during the money dance so the two of you can go away somewhere together and remember to be kind, to reconsider your vows, to have nothing but hours on end and an empty beach and a sunset to simply stare into one another's eyes. 

an arrangement like that might prevent alot of divorces.

**********************

a decade into marriage, life can become unintentionally transactional.  there has been sufficient time for resentments and regrets to creep in, there are things that need to be healed.  time spent on essential things like pg&e bills or deciding which school is best for your children or if homeschool would be better.  negotiating who does dishes and who helps with homework.  one of you does the grocery shopping while the other one carries them in from the car.  and then, deciding which one will clean out the refrigerator when too many dinners have gone uncooked because life is so busy and all the groceries have gone off.

that is marriage.  the daily grind of creating a life together and cleaning up all the messes that come along with it.

sometimes it is quite beautiful.  when the kids say something so hilarious and you look at each other and think:  we created that human being together.  our love is THAT good.  as good as that radiant child right there making us laugh. 

and sometimes it is the safest feeling in the world.  when life gets terrifying and hard and you wake at 3 in the morning freaking out about all the stress that is eating you alive and there is your mate, his warm toes against yours and a hand to hold because he is awake and worrying with you.

i still remember the day matt and i got married.  and i still love him that much.  but there is alot more to it now.  there are unresolved arguments, agreements to disagree, conflicting desires and priorities, there is blame and there are hurt feelings...all of it tied up together in the fabric of this marriage.

in a way, the fact that we stay married in spite of it all says alot.  it says we are in this together, for better or worse.  and there is a faith that if we just stick it out through each phase, some harder than others, we will still be touching toes and holding hands in the middle of the night decades from now, many stories and arguments and make up sex and repeat honeymoons later, and it will all be worth it because this marriage was meant to be. 

*************************

if i had stood up to offer my own toast to the bride and groom this past weekend, i think it would have gone something like this:

matt and i fought all the way here. and sometimes marriage is like that.  but don't give up on each other.  if you want a sure path to spiritual growth, get married and stay married.  there is nothing like marriage to push you up against your walls and ask if you can continue to love in spite of so many things. you will find the capacity of your love even greater than you ever imagined.

my uncle once said this at his own daughters wedding and i've never forgotten it.

I realized that of all institutions that human beings have invented - marriage is the most Holy - and indeed the fastest way to get to know God. Everyone who has been married for over a year knows it is the fastest way to gain spiritual enlightenment. Marriage makes prayer and meditation and long fasting, and lying on beds of nails, seem like games that children play when they are bored. A person who leaves a marriage to go to an ashram in India for spiritual evolution is a total wimp...in total denial that he is a total wimp. Living with another person day and night, down in the trenches, gives ample opportunity to practice every spiritual discipline known to man. If merely living together is not sufficient for spiritual growth --then have children and start to raise them. You will not need some guru sitting on a mountain to explain how to lose your ego. The activities of a householder parent are much more difficult than those of wimpy spiritual recluses. The recluse only has to eat when he pleases, associate or not with whom he pleases, go to bed when he pleases, think what he pleases and about what he pleases, and pray and meditate at his whim. If suddenly a small infant was put into his cave to be taken care of --his true character and level of spiritual evolution would soon become apparent.

his wisdom has stayed with me.  my quest for joy and equanimity and balance and happiness and patience and unconditional love was put into hyperspace with marriage and motherhood.  my capacity for love and forgiveness, tolerance and humor, humility and hope growing in equal measure with every fight and every kiss and every day-long grudge of silence, with each quiet hand reached out to the other, with every heavy footfall of anger.  it's all there.  it is part of it.  and just because it is hard, and there is anger, it is still worth doing. 

******************

i didn't get many photos of the wedding on my phone.  but here are a few...especially fun because the theme of the wedding was 'mad men' and we all took our fashion cues from the era. 

my sister, 7 months pregnant, posing with a cigarette in imitation of a real preggo lady circa 1962.

and me in a jackie-o dress, vintage coat and veil:

 

 

 

favorite holiday

valentines day is one of my all-time favorite holidays.  and it has little to do with the romantic pressure of jewelry stores, candy companies or greeting cards.  mostly it is about sweet mementos and creativity and thoughtful gestures of love in all of its guises.  it is kris kringle in a cupid's outfit sprinkling fairy dust.  or lady ostara and her bunny doing naughtily suggestive gift baskets instead of eggs. 

this holiday makes me feel juvenile.  flirtatious (in the broadest sense of the term). conspiratorial.  benevolent.  it sparks this streak of practical jokes gone sacharin.  i feel permission to be corny.  to let my feelings of love & appreciation vent freely. 

even in college, when my classmates were pining over lost boyfriends or weeply over a solo valentine's day, i'd be industrious in the face of loneliness or heartbreak.  i'd be in my room crafting handmade valentines with rubber stamps, glitter, sealing wax, phoney mustaches and glue-on bobbly eyes, feathers, sparkly ribbon, eyelet hearts.  making play lists (well, then it was actually mixed tapes) and experimeting with rosewater macaroons or texas-sized heathbar,almond cookies to deliver to my professors.  certainly i'd have a box in the mail a week prior to all my younger siblings so that they could open mosaic-collaged "LOVE" candles and read silly poems about their long legs and stinky farts and why i love them so much and eat see's candy or taffy or donuts or truffles or whatever my favorite confection of the moment was.

love was meant to be shared, dammit.  and i was put on this earth to do it. 

growing up, there were no more serious commandments than:

take care of others when they are sick

honor thy birthday celebrant for at least a week

do a kick-ass job of celebrating holidays

pay bridge toll for the people behind you

always give money to the homeless

tell people how much you love them.  a lot.

 

pretty good ground rules don't you think?  i'd like to play on that playground and i do my best to teach my kids the same thing just by *being* those things.

 

tonight i spent valentine's with my almost 90-year-old grandmother in her new assisted living community.  she just moved in yesterday so it was her second night there and they had a 'sweetheart dance.'  me, i'm all about that!  90 year olds voting for king & queen, hosting a dance with live music, an open bar and cupcakes.  crowning the cutest couple.  but not nanny.  she insisted that she didn't want to go to this place - she liked to be alone. and boy has she been horrible during this move. 

but tonight, instead of letting her be miserable and alone, i insisted we take temple and go out to the balcony where we could watch over the festivities & listen to the band - she didn't have to take part, just watch.  so i poured her a glass of wine and out we went.  her head started bobbing.  the wine went down.  she started clapping, wanted to be pushed closer to watch.  temple went to the lobby for a cupcake from the amazing dessert spread and brought one back for nanny too. nanny said no thank you.  then ate the whole thing and wanted another.  when i asked her if it was time to go back to her new apartment, she said no 'because temple is having so much fun.'  when temple was tired and asked to go back to the apartment, nanny stalled agai saying she'd like to finish eating her brownie before she went home. then she held out her hand and introduced herself to everyone all the way down the hallway to her room.

this is what i'm talking about - about love.  about corniness.  90 year olds voting for prom king & queen.  pink & red dessert trays.  live bands playing love song after love song.  a banner of hearts painted by local school children.  secret valentines in resthome mailboxes.  you see, love never gets old.  sacharin, juvenile, cliche love is still love.  and we all need more of it.

given how much i love this holiday, i did a crap job celebrating it for my family - kids, husband, family.  it was rushed, last-minute, unplanned, uninspired.  but even with all of that, it was a beautiful day.  a surprisingly beautiful day!

(IF YOU ARE CYNICAL OR OTHERWISE PRONE TO BARFING, READ NO FURTHER.)

on sunday, i cobbled together hand-made valentine's from a paper-source kit for the kids' school friends and i did a quick dash to the market for school-day treats.  here are our mustache valentines and school snacks (heart shaped lavosh crackers with homemade peanut butter & lemon curd or homemade strawberry cream cheese.)

this morning, i was out of pancake fixings (kids first choice) so i made french toast instead and served it on plates i've had for years:

without a valentine's day card for the kids, i improvised.  turning pink index cards into mini-valentines, i put a handful of lovenotes in their lunch - one personalized to each of them (satchel, you were supposed to be born on this day 9 years ago. happy birthday my little prince VALiant!; temple, mama loves you from the woods to the ocean a million.)  and then these notes for both of them, hidden under different snacks.

with their sugar cookie - you are sweet as sugar:

with their heart-shaped crackers - you make my "heart" pound:

and with their bread & butter - we go together like bread & butter:

(if you are wondering what else i fed my children today besides cookies, crackers and bread - have no fear.  they had lentil and ham soup, ruby grapefruit, carrots, snap peas and apples too :) they just weren't as friendly to notes.)

my day was done.  smiling smugly, i knew my kids would feel adored and loved - even if they thought their mom was corny.

when matt came home from dropping them off, he brought me a special latte with a heart swirled into the foam.  1.  matt never buys coffee out.  2.  he never asks for hearts in his foam.  i felt like a very lucky girl.

later, when i went out to get in my car, i found a valentine on my windshield!!!  a valentine ON MY WINDSHEILD.  not from matt, but a girl after my own heart.  a friend who thinks valentines day is important enough to sneak around town leaving handmade gifts on people's cars or porches.  I mean, seriously, this is hardcore stealth valentines!  and i love it.  love, love, love it!

and these fortune cookies were dangerously delicious too. 

finally, after all this goodness, i got a text from my mom that she was dropping something on the porch for the kids.  i didn't get to find out exactly what until the kids came home.  when i opened their cards & gifts with them, i smiled when i did because i was reminded exactly where all my sappy, angelic, corny, lovely ideas come from :) from the print handwriting for temple and the script for satchel who is learning cursive in 3rd grade, to the handmade jammies for temple and the children's animal medicine cards for satchel during his 9 year change, the  'romance' of these choices could not be more profound.  this tenderness and attention to detail is *exactly* why valentines day is so important to me.

here is the letter my mom left for temple:

and for satchel (note the consistent message that mama-love will never go away...he might as well get used to all our hugging and kissing!)

 

a dose of happy

i've been feeling slammed up against a wall of tough decisions and not enough time.  it's a bit of a rough patch chez urbanearthmama so instead of bitching about crap you don't want to hear about anyway, i thought i'd share this photo essay from one of the blogs i discovered through your suggestions.

i am in love with the story these wedding photos tell.  go see for yourself.  it's like 4-d photography if you ask me.  (and i'm partial to their son, who reminds me an awful lot of satchel.)

i love the wind-blown hair, the wind-blownness of it all.  the fringed moccasins on the flower girls. the cozy, colorful vintage afgans.

this photo...pretty cool, right? and the composition of this one.

and this little girl who brought them all together as a family.

anyway, their love story gave me a little dose of happy this week and i thought i'd share it with you all.

and this is *exactly* why i want to learn how to take photos.  there is a visual story tell if you just know how.

more on food

i might be talking out of my ass a little here.  but please indulge me for a minute.  i'm not as smart as all you facebook people who are being educated through your news feed about the scary government takeover of monsanto, and this will not be an articulate post, but i've got questions.  and this seems like a good place to rant my way through them.

yesterday i posted all about my love affair with food.  really, it is a life long - LIFE LONG - love affair.  i don't trust people who don't love food.  (except maybe you leigh - who at least loves chocolate enough to make up for everything else.) i take food seriously:  what my next meal will be.  how & what i feed my kids.  where my food comes from. the next celebratory meal i get to create.

if i can buy food directly from a farmer, that is my preference:  eggs, a side of beef, veggies warm from the summer fields.  if i can't do that, farmers markets are next.  then the local organic/gourmet market.  then whole foods.  and finally, trader joes.  i'm not a purist.  my kids get slurpees now & then.  and in n out burger too.  but i'd really like to know that the bread i buy at the grocery store is something my body can digest.  not some mutant grain derivative that is a poison to my system.  corn products that are mutilated and toxic.  this whole gluten-free epidemic has alot to do with wheat that is genetically engineered to the point that it is an unrecognizable food to our bodies.  our bodies are in revolt and we should listen.

last weekend my aunt and uncle were visiting and uncle dale spoke of the patriot act that obama signed - allowing the government to put americans in jail with no habeus corpus.  a potential life sentence without explanation.  dale, a chiropractor who believes that food is the only medicine we need, hinted that this new law was intended to turn food activists into terrorists.  that our desire for food the way the earth grows it, food that our bodies recognize, is becoming a revolutionary (read: terrorist) act.  terrorist because it is counter to the capitalistic agenda of american corporations to monopolize any market - even if it means corrupting our food sources. and sure enough, on the heels of the patriot act (signed offshore), obama appoints a monsanto figure head to a critical fda position.  are you f*cking kidding me? 

(obama, i'm crying.  i cried the night you were elected - joyful tears - so happy that an african-american with dreams would lead our country.  i feel so betrayed. now i cry tears of frustration and resistance. maybe there was never any hope anyway.  maybe the office of president is dead.  the president a mere puppet to corporate greed.  but i am definitely in mourning over this.  and i'm pissed off about it too.)

perhaps i will be put on a list of terrorists now.  here.  because i am terrified (who are the terrorists?) of what this world will become with frankenstein food.  with seed populations and genetic strains mutated?  when i cannot feed my children food that will make their bodies healthful and strong. when i am forced to eat vegetables with round-up innards grown in empty soil filled with toxins.

our soils are corrupted - essential minerals depleted.  our seed strains corrupted at the cellular level, with pesticides woven into its dna.  our animals pumped with antibiotics and steroids.

are you not afraid? 

do you have hope?

what should we do?

 

 

if you love me...food porn.

if anyone out there loves me, you will make & send me a parchment wrapped box of these. or one of these.

just ask me for my mailing address and i will send it.

******

“It seems to me,” she wrote, “that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it ... and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied ... and it is all one.”

- mfk fisher (who happened to cook, create, write and entertain at "last house," 10 minutes from my front door)

******

i've been totally into food blogs lately.  there are some amazingly beautiful food/photo sites out there.  i am glued to the computer screen and lusting after both food & photography...sneaking off to read them with excessive regularity these days, i think i may have a problem.

and if i were totally honest about my dream job, it would be that i were a food critic and cookbook author.  or at least a really talented photo/food blogger - who writes her own recipes and inspires people to cook and to love food.

it's really about loving food.  talking to food.  expressing yourself and your mood with food. it is passion.  a medium for emotion and creativity.

so i will share a few of my favorite finds.  a few lustful recipes that call to me right now, but do explore these handful of favorite food blogs.  the recipes below are on my list to try.  if you beat me to it, do let me know - won't you?

these simple, buttermilk tarts looked like a creamy, nutty score that i'd like to experiment with. plus i have to give credit to Hannah for a beautiful blog and the inspiration to explore some of my now-favorite sites!

if you are looking for the perfect dessert - for breakfast, or a humble olive oil cake with berries, or a jazzy, glittery 3 tier concoction for a party, Stephanie is your go-to girl. and besides the grapefruit macaroons i mentioned at the beginning of this post, what about this, the fanciest sounding dessert i've ever heard of.  and panna cotta, when done right, is a sublime experience.

when food is not enough, and you want a little marital tension, plus family entertaining ideas and solid culinary pedigree behind your website, dinner - a love story, is the place.  you can start here with their new years letters to each other.  and since they agree with my entertaining philosophies i must fully endorse one of their favorite main course suggestions.  (if you are a meat eater of course.) but this braised short rib meal in my house - done in all variations from asian 5 spice to beer soaked with root vegetables - is always a hit.  polenta being my favorite side dish to soak up the pan juices.

and while she has closed shop, i happen to think this blog by tattoo artist and food lover, is great.  troll her entries before they are gone.

these collard wraps and this lemon tart with rosemary crust from so good and tasty blog are so enticing to me.  i love colors and fresh, wholesome, real food.  (and have you noticed, i've got a citrus thing going on?  it must be the time of year.)

unique twists on classic combinations, are inspiring to me.  look at this version of peanut butter cookies turned into ice cream sandwiches:  sesame cookies with rosewater ice cream.  can you resist?

here i found one of the recipes i grew up with: dutch babies!  this recipe is so, so easy.  it is a 5 minute prep and a 15-20 minute bake for a luscious family breakfast.  we've been making them for years.  ever have yorkshire pudding?  it's kind of like that.  a custardy, pancake in a roasting pan or cast-iron skillet.  we usually eat them with maple syrup and yogurt with fruit on the side.  but i like this alternative for a savory dish.

speaking of savory, the pecan bisquits over at roost look like the best gluten-free bisquits i've ever seen.  i love wheat but sometimes my belly does not.  and i have a mother in law who is gluten-free.  so i can't wait to try these for our next special dinner.  but roost isn't savory only, check out this recipe for orange flower pavlova with coconut cream, pistachio and meyer lemon.  i learned how to make pavlova from our kiwi friends while living in vancouver.  i've made a few renditions - pavlova with cappucino marscapone and cherries & chocolate pavlova with mandarin orange - here on my blog.  this new twist looks so yummy & exotic.  pavlova, i'll have you know, was created in new zealand as a dessert for the famous ballerina anna pavlova. it is light, airy and marshmallow-ey on the inside with a delicate meringue crust.  (when done right of course.)

and since i can't choose a favorite from this site, i'll just send you there to be inspired for yourself.  who knew that one meal (a meal most people forget) could be so seductive? "simply breakfast" is so not simply forgotten anymore.

i'll close with nectar.  while i found her through her food, i am totally geeking out over her talent and the way she designs her space, homeschools her kids and overall styles her life.  (see her chalkboard wall? mine - which i've always been proud of - looks totally puny compared to hers! i'm totally going bigger next time.)

all of these sites inspire me to go bigger, to listen to my heart more, to create meals and cook food and create my space so that it feels luscious and yummy and enticing to me and my family.  all of these things, like mfk fisher said, are tied together - food, comfort, warmth, desire, love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

magic in numbers

happy birthday matt.  i love you for lots of reasons.  even on this birthday when you aren't so happy about marking another year without having marked other important achievements that you set for yourself last year.  but i wanted to tell you this:  i believe in you.  and i believe in the magic of numbers.  we are living a happily ever after of numbers, you & me. and this is a gift to be grateful for.

our marriage is the magnet of a million tiny decisions - starting long ago and far away with people who share our blood but who we have never met.

5 generations of family that unknowingly followed each other across a growing nation, ending up in a tiny wine country town a hundred years later so that two little hippy kids could meet in elementary school.

great-great grandparents - immigrants from poland and ireland, germany and france - all of whom happened to be plopped down in the same neighborhood in duluth, minnesota and who may or may not have known each other. 

great-grandparents who made the trek across the country to california in search of who-knows-what.

grandparents who lived only blocks away from each other in the same san francisco neighborhood but somehow never knew each other.

grandfathers who worked in the same police department and never met.

parents who found their way to sonoma just as they were starting families of their own.

mothers who, at different times, loved one man who was a father figure to both of us.

a fourth grade teacher who watched over us as our eyes sparked with something that would later become love & marriage.

an astrologer who picked our wedding day & time so that our union would have its own auspicious chart.

and here we are at the tail end of those numbers, in the middle of numbers yet to come - the number 42 a fleeting milestone in comparison to all the luck that has led us here.

*

marriage is an entanglement of love and exasperation in equal measure.  but when i think of all the universe has done to bring us together, i marvel at the magic of it.  i dig my heels in and know this marriage must work.  i look at you and remember you in the fourth grade - shaggy hair and pants too short for your long legs and stunning eyes and a dimpled grin - and my heart bursts with love.  and gratitude for you too. with all of this in our favor, i believe in destiny and the rightness of being together even on the days we want to kill each other.

how could a fairytale of numbers be wrong?

even our birthdays are magically symmetrical:

you born on 1-14-70.

me, 10 months later on 11-14-70.

both of us born in 1970 and our last name sevenau.  or 7-0.

and we met in sonoma - area code 707 - where we now raise our children.

if all of this could bring us together, and continue the destiny of our family tree:

(family tree & chalk art by satchel)

and give us this:

and this:

and this:

it is worth celebrating 42.  because the numbers tell us there is alot more magic in store.

happy birthday.