Archive for the ‘family’ Category

So my hands. I have not really examined a part of me in true fashion for a while now. Truth be told I have struggled a bit with the photographic aspect of where I intended to go next. But, I think that for now my hands are a worthwhile component of my being to examine.

Here in my hands I hold nothing, and everything. In my hands have been the blood sweat and tears of my self as well as many I have and do love. My hands have been burdened by weight, burns, cuts and sprains. There greatest triumph is the ability to increasingly grow in their strength, flexibility and grace as my son and I age, as his weight bears down harder, as my fingers move more slowly, as daly toils take their toll, the grace of my hands increases.

These hands have displayed the luxuries of sapphires and diamonds, of Tiffany’s and heirlooms. These hands have helped and hurt; healed and injured.

Daily I use my hands. The more I use my hands the better I can say I feel. The dirt and mud, the smell of herbs and dogs. There has never been better work than that I have done with my hands. This delicate feature, fingers and nails, require great up keep for display, for my adoration –  lotion and filing and trimming and oiling – all for me, for you, for a perfect background for the tokens to be displayed. It is hard work for a mother to keep her hands, well respectable. My nails likely will not amount to anything to glamorous, and they will constantly battle dry skin, but, they are strong and capable. They create. They feel. They lead. They toil. My hands are the beginning and ending of every day. They turn on and off the alarm, they gentle wake my son and send him to sleepy bliss. They catch my tears of joy and of sorrow. My hands are well used, well loved. They dig in the dirt for play, and for nurture, they cook for joy and care, they clean for me and for others, they blow bubbles and build puzzles , they write and they turn pages. My hands are my guide, they hold my head up when I pray to God, they squeeze my son when they day has been long, they pick a flower and brush my hair.

They are not the most well maintained. I perhaps abuse the privilege of such talented hands. There are days I forget lotion, or stay submerged in the water. I try, but some how I have never been bothered by the appearance of my hands. Some how, I have always allowed them more room for imperfection, I understood them to be a tool. I have always understood the capacity at which I have been able to function at the cost of my hands. Cards, meals, dishes.  I thought that my hands were a tool to express love, to show others how I cared. I don’t think that is invalid. I do however, think that I overestimated the ability to which I could express my love through products of my hands.

I understand now that the love I have for others can be shown through small tokens crafted between my fingers, but also the touch of my fingers on a forehead, a back, holding hands, a tickle. Perhaps our hands are as much a means to our soul as our eyes are.

In many ways our hands are all we have. They are our primary tool, our means of being real. Our hands allow for all of our daily functions, all of what is needed to be alive, to be part of this species, part of something more. Applying our hands to daily tasks helps to create the path for ourselves and for others. We are as successful as our ability, as our hands, as our being will allow.

My hands may not take me to fame, to notoriety, to riches; but every day they take me home, they feel the small toes, short hair and soft cheeks of the small child that I brought into this world, a child I hold with the same loving hands as the day he was born. And though my destiny may be bigger than I imagine, for now, if all my hands do is fish, garden and wash hair, well for now, thats simply enough.

Pure. Simple. True. Devoted. Unconditional. My hands are an expression of my love for life, my love for self and my love for others.

There are those people in our lives that we call family. We are linked to them through common DNA.  The end result is that we are as stuck with them as they are with us. And while I love my family dearly, despite how drastically different we are from one another, I cannot sometimes help but wonder if family really is as critical as we make it out to. Family supposedly can not be replaced, they are the only ones you can be ugly in front of, shout at, take things out on, lay your burdens upon and then still receive a hug and a kiss and an I love you. Is that so, is it how it really works. Do we all love each other? Is it all always ok in the presence of family? because if seeing each other at our best and worst is the criteria, then my family has grown significantly larger lately. I have a great groups of friend that I can cry and laugh with, be ugly or dolled up, can have fun with and be honest with. Its not really so different. I suppose though that all strong relationships function in this regard, and that includes marriages and relationships with your children.

We go through life with so many various relationships. Perhaps there are layers to us, and I am certain that we end up with those who we can use/need to find out more about ourselves. But within this process we also make many choice, commit many acts, say many things, and when we care significantly about the well being of others, especially those who have impacted our lives, I like to think that is altruistic. The thought that we choose to do something or think something only for ourselves bothers me significantly. Though, in some cases the trickle down affect may play a role – it may make us feel good to see the reaction on some ones face when we do something nice – but did we do it to feel good, or because we wanted them to?

Can we love others for the sake of them, or is it only for our selves? Because if to love is only for our selves than that sort of tarnishes the concept a bit, that we could love another for them…is it possible? We all seem to crave this affection, attention, companionship and closeness, but why, does it serve an evolutionary purpose? Is the idea that we fall into eternal bliss? Seems unlikely, in a species which is still contingent upon our ability to reproduce, it seems more likely that love is a means by which we find the support necessary to work our way through the world and all that comes with it. This act, making it, surviving and thriving is important to our offspring and to the future of our species. Bliss puts us in the position where we feel compelled to mate, physically, and often emotionally. This is not that uncommon. We are in the game to survive, to improve and evolve.

Now that I have said all that, it is important to know that I am a hopeless romantic and truly adore the pains and euphoria’s of love. These peaks and valleys are where we learn the most and accept the most. Being in love is the greatest, and most costly ride of your life. Those that we need in our lives are often given to us, there and ready to be accepted should we choose to accept them, there are likewise those we don’t need, a true test of how well we know and understand ourselves and our needs. All relationships good and bad, have a message, a  gift to deliver. Our ability to think about the actions, the reactions, and the moments will allow us to accepts and enhance ourselves and others through the gifts and the lessons we have received. And to learn about ourselves is the greatest gift and challenge of all.

To be given the gift, be it through triumph or sorrow, to glean the desire to explore and analyze yourself is a fantastic. We, as people do not like to admit our fault or our shortcomings. It is painful, embarrassing involves great thought as to our character then and the way we want to be, and wanting to be anything else must come from within. The problem I see is that often people think that you have to make drastic changes and really re-evaluate who you are. I found that I am incredibly happy with who I am, but not so happy with how I have always chosen to express that person, or how I have chosen to communicate my thoughts and feelings with myself and others. And my desire to grow, to lear and grow is for me, and hopefully to the benefit of others, but initiated for me.

And as those I call family and loved ones have been burdened with much of the stress of my ill handling of myself, I can only hope for them a benefit as mature into a wiser person, a more in control, a more balance person. Through my thoughts and my feelings I have reconciled great weaknesses, and through my thoughts and my courage I have begun to confront those. And through my personal desire to be a better person, I have begun to make choices that directly affect how others, and how I experience myself, life and the world around.

So cheers to family, be them genetically connected or not, you are my family, and I thank you for your time and patience and love, and I pray I am able to better share in your life and return the kindness to you.

There are small joys in childhood that you carry, you bring them for the remainder of your journey, you revel in them when the chance presents itself, in fact, some may have children just to re-live these tremendously fulfilling, itsy-bitsy, and  inexpensive joys.

Tonight it was the banana split. Now, personally, I am not a fan of bananas mixed into anything, but at a loss for what to have for dinner tonight, I opted for the banana split. Because lets face it, sometimes you need to have dessert first, or just dessert, and tonight was one of those nights.

When I was a younger girl, my eldest cousin and myself would typically stay a weekend with my grandfather, and I remember eating more Dairy Queen banana splits and sundaes than at any other time in my life. Thanks Grandfather George. And to my Grandma Mary, and those FANTASTIC – still my favorite, no bake chocolate drop cookies that she freely let us eat for breakfast. And to my mother who reassured me, while I was briefly home for a holiday, that on occasion, it is okay to eat pumpkin pie for breakfast lunch and dinner.

So this one my love, dear Edan, is for you. My son and I enjoyed the Banana split tonight for dinner. As he can be picky I did not push many toppings, we went with bananas, Neapolitan ice cream, peanut butter and sprinkles. Simple by banana split standards, but thats part of the beauty of the split, it grows and changes with you, much like family.

If your not willing to pillow fight, pick up bugs, race to see who can drink an icee drink faster, eat dessert for dinner, play in a mud puddle in your clothes, run in the snow barefoot, and occasionally shoot a water gun in the house, then well, I am sorry for you. I was to a certain degree a bit like that, a bit to rigid about the maintenance of order and the systems of how things work. Having so much time with my son, and developing an increased interest in how children see and process the world, I have learned a great deal about what it means to be a mother, a friend, a spouse, and an individual.

You love your children all the more for being the key to ice cream floats and bubbles, and mud. No one needs an excuse, sometimes we just need to be reminded. And so, if you are still unwilling, still afraid something may get broken, or take time to clean up well, the time it takes to clean up is miniscule compared to the time you will have to cherish that memory – the smile, the giggle, the hug, the moments.

Memories are made when you have banana splits for dinner.

so this all began as a blog devoted to my grandmother and her efforts to cook and provide for a traditionally large Catholic family. There is, amongst the women, a cookbook of recipes – some are hers, some are from friends some are cut out and included because they were tried and tested and made someone, or everyone in the family happy. But there are many elements to cooking, and family that are not explicit in the recipes.

For one, most of them make large quantities, very large. Indicative of a large family and later of entertaining (be it family or friends). My mother has done nothing to aid in the transformation of these recipes to being family (fourish) sized. If anything, the portions are the same and the amount has actually doubled.

Entertaining is huge in my family, and I used to think that it was huge in my life; that I needed more than myself and my son and a husband to entertain. It is just no the case. Though I love my friends dearly and love having them over to eat and to cook, the acts within the confines of ones family are even more intimate and meaningful. To be fair, the act of creating memories always is.

I presently have no need to cook for more than one routinely and thus, in this situation, one turns to ones friends and shares these moments with them. Here in the comfort of our homes, neighborhoods and porches we begin the creation of our own cookbooks.