"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings." ~Hodding Carter

A dear friend said to me today " You know, some people are one way in front of their kids & another when they aren't. You're always the same." I took it as a real compliment. Funny that that came up today. It sort of made me pause & marvel in the irony when the shit hit the fan a mere few hours later.

"Kids do not come with an owner's manual when you have them." I've often stated that to friends & family when we have discussed someone feeling overwhelmed/exhausted/frustrated about some situation or another that had them asking aloud what the hell they did to get there. I have certainly used my own mother's "parenting" as a guide on what NOT to do in raising my own children. I have personally subscribed to being open and upfront & above all, bluntly honest with my kids. I try to treat them the way I want to be treated.

When I began to consider this move across the country, I sat them all down & told them that if there were any "absolutely no ways" in the group, we simply would not move. I kept them involved every step of the way during the decision & planning & ultimately the execution of this move. I certainly knew there would be bumps in the road. I thought I'd gotten lucky....

It isn't even that I have an issue with the fact that they are struggling a bit to adjust. I totally get it. Leaving everyone you know & starting over in High School. It's a massive adjustment. It's the fact that no matter how often I say "come to me" when ever you need to talk, here I am finding out about it not once removed but twice. And that is positively fucking infuriating. I loathe not being told first what is going on in the lives of my own goddamned children. And to be told to pretend everything is hunky dory until when someone else says, just about puts my ass over the deep end.

Then in the midst of that anger comes a nagging little voice. It keeps whispering to me & damn if the bitch isn't getting louder. It keeps saying one word over & over.

Doubt.

Have I made a mistake? Did I do them more harm than good by making this move? Is the reason that she talked to someone else because I am a bad mother? She feels like she can't talk to me...? Do they not want me to know that they hate it here? Was I selfish? Will they hate me? 

The questions just go on and on and on. But the main thing I take from them all is doubt. I haven't done a whole lot of that in my day & suddenly I am standing on a very slippery slope with all kinds of care on my shoulders. Let it be made known that I obviously care what my children think. What I mean is, where along the path did I start to question what I was doing? and why? How do I teach my children that life comes with all kinds of changes and if they don't have a solid foundation for coping with it, that they will not make it in the world? How do I say that & still seem like I am hearing their concerns? Is the current administration not working?? (No pun intended, truly.) 

When a woman raises children on her own, she assumes the role of mother, father, friend, confidant, enforcer, protector, administrator, chef, stylist, judge, security detail and so on. Those quantity of roles diminish as the kid gets older. I am OK with all of those things. Here is my concern though. When one person has too much power, where does the line get blurred? How do I know of I am failing them?

Usually, there is a point in my writing where what I am stressed out over starts to meld its way into a resolution somewhere in purging process. Tonight though, that is not the case. Tonight I am forced to look over my own report card as a Mommy. Frankly, I feel like I've been handed a bunch of Fs.

"May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead." ~ Irish Drinking Toast

Hola mi gente!!! I am making this a quick drive by post because it is the eve of Halloween & I am going to a party. Honestly, I can't wait! Good friends, wine & food? Yep, I'm in!! Also, one of my dear friends from Nashville is here visiting me. Today we went out to the wine country & tasted all kinds of yummy goodness. In short, it has been a great couple of days. Here's hoping tonight will be even better!

Anyway, this is another one of my contributions to the Sabroso Saturday crew. If you haven't already seen the last food post, we're a group of ladies doing an old school recipe swap in a new age way. Last time, I posted my recipe for Pork Carnitas but this time; and in keeping with my festive mood, I am sharing two of my favorite after dinner cocktail recipes that I personally serve to my dear friends after an evening of feeding them & enjoying their company. Also, they are hot drinks and it IS getting awfully chilly out there... Here goes kids:

GROWN FOLK HOT COCOA & CAFECITO

Tequila Java 

Tequila Cocoa

Bailey's Irish Cream

Fresh Whipped Cream

Instant Hot Cocoa Packets

Fresh Brewed Hot Coffee (Bustelo if you're in the know!)

FOR GARNISH:

Chocolate Shavings 

Chocolate covered coffee beans

For the Cocoa:

Boil 6 oz of water for each serving

In a mug throw in the hot cocoa packet and a 1 1/2 oz shot of Tequila Cocoa and a 1 oz shot of the Baileys. Pour in 6 oz of boiling water. Mix this up so that the cocoa packet is completely dissolved. Then add a dollop of fresh whipped cream on top & sprinkle on chocolate shavings for garnish.

For the Cafecito:

In a mug add 6-8 oz of your favorite brewed coffee. Add a 2oz shot of Tequila Java. Add a dollop of fresh whipped cream and then garnish with a chocolate covered coffee bean. 

CHEERS!!!! (Please enjoy these responsibly.)

"Defeat never comes to any man until he admits it." ~Josephus Daniels

A few years back I went on a long run with someone who was in faaaar better shape than I was in. No training. No 'I've been doing it for a while so I'm going to join this person'. Just; they were going so I threw on my sneakers and went. That run ended with me walking about 3 miles alone, nearly passing out in the front yard when I finally made it back. Then me crying, fully clothed mind you, in the shower nearly 30 minutes later when I was able to walk up the driveway and into the bathroom.

I can't speak for my running mate that day but I can say that I lost a ton of respect for myself on that miserable walk back. Every step closer to the house added to how badly I felt about myself. I was out of shape and unhappy about it and was doing NOTHING to change it. I couldn't even do a simple jog. I had started huffing and puffing just a few blocks in to the run. It was humiliating.

Now I started this post by saying "a few years back" mind you. It has taken me that long to get off my ass and actually DO something about it. I certainly thought about it a lot. I talked about it a lot. But I still hadn't done a damn thing. Then I moved to Sacramento where everyone is outside running or biking or something. So I just started taking walks. And then I started to watch what I was eating. Then my walks turned to very short jogs. Then those got a bit longer

That made me pretty happy so I joined a gym where I could track how long I was jogging for. I still remember the first day I ran an entire straight mile. I look back now and laugh at how silly it was. But in that moment, it was monumental!  Soon, I was ticking off longer distances in less time. And then, a very casual conversation with a then co-worker and now very dear friend started like this: "Hey, you should try running a half marathon with me."

I will not sit here and pretend that I wasn't terrified. I certainly didn't think even in that moment when I said yes to trying it that I could ever complete a half marathon. I just wasn't going to do that walk of shame ever again. That competitor within just woke back up and said "look bitch, you're going to do this!" And I was quite frankly too afraid to say no to it...or say no to Angela! (Love you girl!!) So clueless was I to what I signed on for, that one day while reading through some of the material I was sent from my marathon training group; I emailed said friend in an absolute panic asking her if she knew that a half marathon was THIRTEEN POINT ONE MILES..!?!?! 

Her response? "Well sweetie, I'm no math genius but if a full marathon is 26.2 miles...then....." HAAAAA!!!!!! What a dumbass I am!!! 

So I trained. And there were certainly some bumps in the road. I suffered from wicked shin splints in the beginning. I spent a bloody fortune on new running shoes and inserts. I had some knee pain that almost got me bounced before race day even arrived. I was hospitalized with some lovely stomach issues that I won't share here... But I kept on running. And I kept going further and further. And faster and faster. And then it was race day...

Included in all my prayers for being able to just finish was the request for good weather & I swear to you, we had perfect running conditions for race day. All I had as goals were A. Not to die. And B. to finish without walking any.  And miles 1 through 10 were fantastic!! No pain, no issues. Just gorgeous weather, lots of support from the sidelines and great company & conversation from my running partner. 

And then we stopped to use the loo. The mere act of stopping just killed my momentum. The next 2 miles were miserable. I had a blister that suddenly made it's presence very known. My quads were on fire and I was dying. I could just feel myself getting ready to start walking. I was sooooo close to giving in to that doubt.

So I popped on the running playlist I'd created for this very occasion & dug real deep and I thought about that dreadful attempt at a run from a few years back. I realized that I had come so far. I had people waiting for me at the finish line. And I just couldn't punk out at mile TWELVE!!!!  I had something to prove. To myself.  

And right then, the runner in me was borne.

So I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. And I kept going forward. I imagined hearing my girls yelling my name as I crossed that finish line. And suddenly, I could hear the roar of the crowd at the finish line cheering and clapping. And it kept me going forward.  And I DID it!!! I finished!!! I ran 13.1 miles!!! I even got a bit misty eyed when the MC announced my name as I crossed that finish line. (Just for a quick sec, so don't get it twisted!!) 

Now, I may not be in the perfect body or the perfect shape. But I am healthier. And I am in a much better head space than I have been in years and year and years. And I completed a run. I even ticked off one more thing on the ol' bucket list. Now all I need to do is decide where I'll be doing my next half marathon... or maybe this time, I'll climb a mountain... Anybody want to join me...??

 

  "I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 

'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."   

“Food, like a loving touch or a glimpse of divine power, has that ability to comfort.” — Norman Kolpas

     This is gonna be a whoooole different abrupt pace here but so be it people!!! "Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine."  Ha!!
      I have managed to connect with this ridiculous, amazing group of women through Twitter (I have met them in real life so I am permitted to state this for real!) and in that connection I have been invited to contribute to a link up called Sabroso Saturday. To my non-Latina readers, this means Tasty Saturday. Basically it is an opportunity for us to recipe share the yumminess we all inevitably Tweet about.  Let's face it kids, we all Tweet about food. Hell, I upload more pictures of food than I do my own children. LOL I am slightly embarrassed to share just how easy this recipe is but when I make this, I do the shopping the day before & prep it as soon as I wake up.

*You may have also noticed that it is in fact, Monday but I am a damn slacker, deal with it!!

    So here it is. I've talked about this, Tweeted about it & cooked this for all of my favorite people. So from my kitchen to yours:

Slow-Cooked Pork Carnitas Tacos

You will need:

1 1/2 lbs Pork shoulder (Boston Butt) cut into 1 1/2 inch pieces. I usually buy a 2lbs & trim away excess fat.

1tsp salt

2 tsp fresh black pepper

2 tsp dried oregano

1/2 large white onion cut into 4 pieces

2 garlic cloves (I like more personally, just saying...)

1/2 tsp ground cumin 

1 avocado sliced

1/2 lb shredded queso blanco (you can buy it solid at the deli counter & shred it yourself. It is SO much better than the stuff you buy bagged)

corn tortillas

your favorite tomatillo salsa

fresh bunch of cilantro

1 or 2 limes cut into wedges

    Toss the cut up pork in the bowl of a slow cooker with the salt, pepper, cumin, & oregano. With tongs, give this a good mix up. Place the onion pieces and the garlic cloves on top of the pork. Cover it and cook on the low setting for SIX HOURS until the meat is very tender and falling apart. Now, you may get to about hour three and find your mouth watering and be tempted to open the lid. DO NOT. It will add 30 minutes to your cooking time, and frankly...you've waited long enough.

     When that timer goes off, get you a slotted spoon and transfer the pork to a cutting board. You can discard the onion & garlic pieces but me personally, I like to keep them in. Depends on how much flava you're used to cooking with. (Can I get an Amen Mamis!!) Using your fingers (or two forks if you're weird about it) shred the pork up. Wrap the tortillas in a damp clean kitchen towel & nuke for 1 minute. Transfer the pork to a platter and then let everyone build up their tacos.

     Serve them wrapped in a warm tortilla with avocado, (or guac!! OMG even better!) cilantro, tomatillo sauce, cheese & a lime wedge. Buen Provecho mi gente!!!

 

~ Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible and achieves the impossible~ - Anonymous

Something about the turning of the seasons has always made me feel a little bit sad. As a kid, I always assumed it was because the end of summer meant going back to school. Or, the end of fall meant that the cold winter was coming. I guess, I've always been a bit pessimistic...

When I got older, I always noticed the turning of the seasons even more so when I was alone. As in; not having a significant other alone. I suppose I thought, oh the winter is over. It'd be nice to have someone to go on a picnic with when it warms up or something to that effect. Now I realize what it is about the season change that makes me feel just a little bit down.

It's another notch of time that has been marked away.  It's more time lost to the other side of the hourglass. The older I get, the longer the melancholy lasts. Tonight I noticed that the temperature has been dropping just a bit  further every evening. I pulled on a cozy sweater and I got to wondering about this melancholy that I am already beginning to feel. Why do I look at the passing of time in such a way that it makes me feel so sad...? Inevitably this makes me step out of myself and look a bit more closely at my life...or should I say, what I thought my life would be.

I grew up in pretty rough conditions (I'll save you the sob story, we all have one.) that certainly shaped my outlook on things but the truth is...no matter how rough it ever was, I always believed that my life was destined for something great and that with that great life would come this amazing love. You know, the kind people tell their grandchildren about...The kind that start with a kid looking up, asking you to tell them how you both met... I guess I just saw one as coming with the other quite naturally.

I never fully understood why I felt so confident in it but it was always there and very clear to me. Given the circumstances, the odds for it actually happening were slim to none. But I was always a pretty smart kid so I suppose I figured I had a lot of control in it all just panning out. And growing up;  it really stood with me.

Life though, is a funny thing and suddenly here I am very close to another birthday and there is no charmed life. And though I am certainly not living a terrible life by any means, I do find myself mourning this idea of one that I was so confident I was going to have. As an adult I accept that this may have truly been the idealistic wide-eyed illusions of a young girl who had it rough & just imagined something grand as a coping mechanism to move forward through what was in fact my reality. But in that acceptance comes the disappointment in the possibility that the great love that I have always believed was out there, may not actually be. That maybe this life I am actually living is as good as it gets. And in admitting that I feel like I am tempting fate to hand me over some horrible blow to make me more grateful of what I DO indeed actually have. This part...not so easy to accept or admit. But this blog has never been about sunshine & daisies has it...?

Suddenly I'm wondering...have I walked right passed him? Did I miss some turn on the road? And when I imagined this beautiful, destined life...was it only good because I imagined a partner to live it with me? I've always been a woman so confident in being alone that this possibility has me quite rattled. And so there it is. The question that women (especially ones my age) aren't supposed to think, never mind actually ask:

Is a life less of a life if there is no partner to share it with? Is its value lessened if I end up alone?

And I know it is silly of me to waste my time thinking about the things that could have been. The things that I don't really get a say-so in. Yet here I am, sitting in the dark pondering it. The weight of it on my shoulders tells me that the answer is yes. But then some spot in my logical brain starts to kick my own ass at the stupidity of that....

Ultimately though, I think that the answer, for me, is this. A life is something that has value because it is a life. A spiritual person would say that because God created it, it has value. I think that that is true however, I think that a life shared. A life that is witnessed; is the kind that is the stuff that little girls sitting in their rooms wish up into the heavens for.

So no matter how many candles I blow out on the cake this year or the next...or the next; I will always be that little girl. And I still believe that it (ALL of it) is out there...and that makes me look forward to autumn....