Category Archives: Womanhood

Sunday Scribblings #112: Quitting

If he wasn’t born by 3 p.m., I would die. I would quit, that’s all.

“I can’t do this!” I said again.

“You are doing it!” the midwife repeated.

At 3 p.m., I decided not to die. Thirteen minutes later, with one long push, my son appeared, blue and squirmy and tiny.

That night, alone and exhausted, I held my fussy newborn in my arms, willing him to sleep: “I can’t stay awake much longer!”

And I realized I will never quit on him: after birthing him without medication, I can and will handle anything in the challenge called motherhood.

Sunday Scribblings #111 Soar/Sore

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I lift him above my head: his mouth opens wide in a baby-grin and he laughs loudly, soaring above me, arms outstretched. I smile too, my heart memorizing the sound, the sight, and the feeling of chubby childhood joy.

***

I turn away: in my mind I still see the tears on his pumpkin-covered face and in my ears I still hear his constant scream of baby indignation. I sigh and grab a towel to wipe away the blood on my finger, wishing someone would kiss my sore better.

This is motherhood: a daily dichotomy.

Castles in the Air and Growing Up (A Little)

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It’s been a long time since I’ve read a young adult novel (other than Harry Potter, which doesn’t count), so when I picked up Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women this week, I was at first taken aback by the rosy, generic moral lessons within it. As I began, I didn’t think I’d have much to ponder, since it’s a reread for me. But I was wrong.

At first the moral lessons were a bit silly to me. For example, when the girls want a holiday week, without any chores, their mother agrees and lets them, knowing they will learn their lesson. Sure enough, by the end of the week, they are ready for chores again! If only lessons are really learned that way.

By the middle, though, I was finding myself relating to the teen angst as the girls began courting and dealing with each other and their life dreams. They plan their “castles in the air” for what they want to be doing in ten years, when they are — get this — between twenty-two and twenty-seven.

What’s your castle in the air for ten years from now? My castle in the air is a four-bedroom house with a fenced-in back yard, a few mature trees, and a few children swinging on a swing set and otherwise playing together. But I’ll go where ever Heavenly Father wants me to be and I’ll accept whatever little blessings he wants to send me (or not send me). I never envisioned Australia, and my life now is essentially my castle in the air. I don’t want my life changed too much. I am very happy.

As I was reading Little Women, I really found myself enjoying the story, as childish and “rosy” as it is. Then, during a scene when a character marries, I had a moment of bizarre realization: I’m not one of them. I’m already married. I have a baby. How am I relating to these girls?

It felt so weird to realize that I’m beyond that stage of life. My life has moved on.

Do you ever have moments when you look at your kid(s) or your job or your degree and wonder how you got there? I know I’ve lived each day to get here, but that moment just seemed out of chronological order. How did I get here already?

By the way, Nancy was the randomly selected winner for Buy Your Friend a Book week.

I Love General Conference

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I haven’t been reading many books or posting on my blog much this week. I’ve been distracted.

It began Sunday morning at 4:30 a.m.

As all of you were sitting down for 10 a.m. General Conference Saturday morning, I was asleep. It was 2 a.m. Sunday morning. My son awoke at 4:30 a.m., and after attending to his needs and putting him back in bed, I decided I couldn’t wait until next Saturday: I wanted to know who the newest Apostle was. I went online and found out.

D. Todd Christopherson, I read. How exciting! I thought.

I decided I wanted to hear how it was announced. Then I remembered that it was not even 5 a.m. I had to leave for church at 7:45 a.m., and I needed to stay awake during Sacrament meeting. So I went back to bed.

We went to church and came home. When we got home, I started to watch the first session. I am so grateful for the Internet! I could watch the solemn assembly Sunday afternoon in my living room. It was so special. I loved watching it, but I didn’t watch the whole session: there were other things to do.

Monday afternoon, what should appear in my feed reader but all of the mp3 files for the audio of four sessions of General Conference. I subscribed to the feed in December and promptly forgot about it, since, of course, it is only updated twice a year.

I couldn’t wait until Saturday. I listened to President Monson’s talks, then President Eyring’s and President Uchdorf’s talks. They were so excellent, and I was so inspired, so I listened to the rest of it, reverse alphabetically as it appeared in my feed reader. (I listened in reverse because President Thomas S. Monson was the last alphabetically and I wanted to start with him.) I did a lot as I listened’care for my son, work on photographs, etc. So I wasn’t just sitting around.

It has been great. I feel so uplifted and ready to be better. But I guess that’s the key: listening isn’t making me any better. I need to do what I’m learning! Listening doesn’t do any good for the world.

My favorites the first time around:

President Uchdorf’s talk (the faith of our Father, our Heavenly Father)
Elder Child’s talk on tithing
Elder Ballard’s talk to the young mothers
Elder Bednar’s talk on prayer
Elder Oaks’s talk on testimony
Elder Zwick’s talk on fortifying yourself

Which were your favorites?

I get to listen and watch all of them again Saturday and Sunday. (We need to be there this weekend.) What do I do for eight hours Saturday and Sunday as I watch them? I’m going to be sitting on an uncomfortable bench in the chapel.

Ah well; I’ll be inspired all over again. I love general conference!

What I Learned from the CIA

Mise en place

Ruhlman defines this in The Elements of Cooking as “literally, put in place; the kitchen term for your setup, the gathering and preparation of all the tools and food you need to complete the task at hand.” In The Making of a Chef, Ruhlman discusses his time in the Skills kitchen at the CIA, learning to cut and prepare food. He discusses the time he spent working in the restaurants of the CIA, where he spent hours preparing his mise en place before the restaurant opened its doors and he actually began cooking. While I certainly don’t care how I cut my carrots, I was impressed with the time that was always given to make sure everything was ready to go before starting the grill or turning on the stove. As Ruhlman pointed out, if you have everything together before you begin, and you are familiar with the cooking plan (or recipe), then everything will fall into place when you begin cooking. If you aren’t prepared, then things could fall apart and you’ll find yourself “in the weeds.” If you are prepared, ye shall not fear. (Even nonfiction cooking memoirs are inspirational!)

Cooking is a series of problems solved.

I loved this concept, and it really is true:

My chicken burned on the grill; what do I do differently next time? (I always burn chicken on the grill)
My ____ tastes boring; what do I add?
This sauce isnt thick enough; how do I thicken it?
I’m out of ____; what do I substitute?
My _______ is [insert problem]; what did I forget?

I find myself wanting to solve the problems before they are unsolvable. (One chef in the book suggested that any food is fixable unless it is burned. Then you’re out of luck. You can’t un-burn it.)

What does it take to be a good cook? Basic understanding, passion, and balance.

I loved how balance was an essential part of being a cook in one chef’s equation. The chef told Ruhlman that those chefs that worked too much and didn’t do anything else really were not the best cooks. In my case, I think being a “good cook” is realizing that “good” is not the same as “perfection” and “cook” is not the same as “chef.” My family doesn’t need perfection, and they don’t need a chef. They need a mom and a wife who happens to prepare dinner every night.

President Metz (president-chef of the Institute) never eats anything he cooks without a critical eye.

I like the concept of being critical of my own food; if cooking is a series of problems solved (as discussed above) then I need to recognize the problems in order to improve on them. However, I don’t think it’s necessary to always eat critically. I’m not a chef; I expect to take some days off!

When we put food on the table, we make a value statement. Your own values and your own standards: that is all.

I think this is the crux of my goal in cooking. I want to be able to put food on the table that I feel good about. I will cook to my standards, accepting the fact that I will take days off from caring and critiquing what I put in my belly.

My Conclusion

This memoir is very different from the last Ruhlman book I read. In some respects, I recommend this book over The Elements of Cooking. Elements is a reference book for the more-confident cook. It is above me in some ways. This memoir, on the other hand, is a delightful look into the world of professional cooking and what makes the difference between a good cook and a professional cook. It helps me think about cooking in a completely new way. I think any home cook, any waiter, and any semi-professional cook could benefit from this inside look at cooking for the food industry. I needed that, probably before I read Elements. Now that Ive read The Making of a Chef, I feel I should go back and reread the essays in the beginning of Elements.

There is a lot to being a cook! Understanding the elements behind it is just part of it.

Winds-day and Lesson 11: Faith in Jesus Christ

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Yesterday, I watched a wind storm.

Paul was napping. I sat at my desk, at my computer.

When I heard a strong wind whip through the trees, I looked out. Our house is on a hill so I see trees for miles.

The sky was cloudy and gray. And there was quite a wind. Autumn leaves fell out of the sky–yellow and orange–but so did bunches of green leaves. A branch whipped across the roof. The neighbors’ garbage cans across the highway toppled over, the “for sale” sign was uprooted, and trees seemed to bend. Our lights flickered. One tree bent close to our home, and I heard something banging against our roof.

I worried: I rushed to Paul’s room.

Paul slept soundly. His eyes remained closed, and he sighed in his sleep. He brought his hand nearer his mouth and bumped his pacifier, which rested on the mattress now. He sighed again and turned his head to look at the wall. I heard the wind, but it was distant. All was calm.

I watched him sleep for a few minutes. Then I left his room, closed the door, and sat at my desk again. I don’t know why I panicked and raced to him during the wind. We were safe inside our home. The wind wasn’t going to knock down our walls: they are strong. We were safe.

But as I watched him sleep, I felt this sudden out-of-control feeling: He’s going to grow up. He’s going to go outside, into the world, away from me. Will he be strong enough against the winds, or will they topple him?

And now, my [son], remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

— Helaman 5:12

After a little while, the winds calmed, with only an occasional burst. The clouds didn’t retreat, but the sky lightened a bit.

And then there was a burst of wind, and a full-grown tree toppled over, right through our neighbor’s yard and our neighbor’s fence and our fence and into our backyard.

As I’ve thought about the tree (and watch it sitting rudely on our lawn), I realized it was only after the worst of the storm was over that the tree succumbed. It had been weakened. In a very real way, the tree it wasn’t strong enough against the winds.

I had thought that the lesson for Sunday school this week was about faith; most of the manual discusses what faith is and examples of faith from the scriptures. But then I looked at the title: Faith in Jesus Christ. It’s not just faith; the first principle of the gospel is “faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.” Believing, a general faith, is not enough to sustain us through the “mighty winds” that the adversary will send our way.

We can have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow; we can have faith that a seed will grow. But we must have faith that Jesus Christ truly did atone for our sins. That is how we return to our Heavenly Father. It is only in and through Christ that we can return to Him.

Joseph Smith called faith “a moving cause of action” and “a principle of power.” It is not a passive concept. The power of faith is incredible: the walls of Jericho came down, Enoch moved mountains, Jared beheld the finger of the Lord. I think of what those people had to do to exercise such faith. Then I think of the power I can receive by exercising faith in Jesus Christ: the ability to return to my Heavenly Father, despite my shortcomings. Wow! That’s more than moving a mountain in my mind.

I must actively build my foundation in Christ, and I must teach my son to build such a foundation. I can only do that if I rely on my own foundation: I am imperfect, but through Christ, I can be perfect.

I must teach my son that he belongs to God, for he is a child of God first. God has entrusted his spirit to me. What a responsibility!

I suspect I’ll always want to check on him when the winds come, even when the day comes that I must let him go outside, into the world. How will his foundation fare against the “mighty winds?”

Lesson 11 of 45

Lessons 9 and 10: Prayer and Fasting

The Chef’s Craft in Every Kitchen?

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I have mixed feelings about Michael Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking: Translating the Chef’s Craft for Every Kitchen.

The Elements of Cooking is one-part opinionated essays about cooking (pages 1-50) and one-part alphabetic encyclopedia of opinionated “essential” elements to cooking. There are things I liked about both parts and other things that bordered on ridiculous. (For example, Sharpie is included in the list of essential elements to cooking. Its definition: “This brand of permanent marker is excellent for dating and labeling food; keep one in your tool drawer along with painter’s tape.” p. 215)

I didn’t realize why I was annoyed by this book until I started reading Ruhlman’s previous best-seller, The Making of a Chef. I haven’t finished that book yet. It is the story of how one is trained at the Culinary Institute of America to become a chef. Only as I read this second book do I realize what the problem is with the first book: I don’t want to be a chef. Therefore, it’s not necessary to translate the chef’s craft for my kitchen.

According to The Elements of Cooking, a chef is a leader, as in the head of a restaurant kitchen, and is firstly a good cook. A cook is what I do aspire to be. I don’t want to be a chef: I don’t want a restaurant kitchen. I want good home cooking for my home kitchen.

Because I don’t want to be a chef, some items on the alphabetic list of essential elements seem a bit ridiculous. I don’t need to learn about aspic (gelled stock), offal (innards of animals), and foie gras (duck liver). I won’t be cooking them in my kitchen. I don’t need to learn the French terms for my macaroni’s cheese sauce. I don’t need to know decorative knife cuts for cutting vegetables. I don’t need to know kitchen terms (for example, commis is a prep cook in a professional kitchen).

However, on the other hand, as a cook, some of the terms, even the French terms, may come in handy if I happen upon a recipe that uses them.

Also, as a cook I found the opinionated essays about cooking incredibly interesting. Those essays are the reason I would recommend this book to the average cook. They make me think about cooking in a different way. I plan on rereading them regularly. Ruhlman included essays on stock, sauces, salt, the egg, heat, and tools of the kitchen. I think I’ll revisit them in subsequent posts — they are very informative and, I think, discussion worthy.

One book he recommended reading is On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, by Harold McGee. This is a scientific explanation of food, from eggs to meat and fish to plants and on. The author has degrees in science and literature so provides scientific descriptions the layman can understand. When I read it, I’ll let you know if that is true.

Ruhlman’s last essay is about finesse. This is where I feel I’ve departed from his main point of his book: I’m not a chef and so I’m not hoping for “refinement” in my cooking. As a cook, I hope to provide fundamental home cooking for my family. However, I suspect Ruhlman is correct to some extent, even for my home kitchen: “The concept [of finesse] rest[s] on a conviction that paying attention to a few small details in any given preparation has an enormous impact on the finished dish and is the final gratification for the cook in his or her pursuit of excellence” (p. 46).

While I’m not looking for approval of my food as a restaurant chef or even as an amateur chef in any sense of the term “chef” and I’m not vainly pursuing excellence (perfectionist though I am), I think a reward to my efforts at cooking will be a gratifying and edible supper every night with my family, recognizing that there is always room for improvement.

I recommend Ruhlman’s book to the family cook only half-heartedly. It’s great to get you thinking about food, but only with a few tablespoons of salt.

The Great Big Vegetable Challenge and What’s Your Vegetable?

The Ants Came Marching

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If you despise bugs, you may not want to read this post.

On the other hand, if you want motivation for always wiping down the counters, cleaning the dishes, and otherwise cleaning the kitchen on a regular basis, this may be the post for you.

I think I keep a pretty tidy kitchen. I wipe down the counters thoroughly at least once a day. I regularly unload the dishwasher and load it again to keep the sink empty. I try to keep it clean.

The other morning, we put our dirty breakfast dishes in the sink — the dishwasher had clean dishes in it. I went back two hours later (when Paul was happier) to empty the dishwasher, load it, and make brownies.

Ants were crawling into the sink, around the sink, on the counters, and under the kitchen counter.

I didn’t scream. But I do think my heart literally skipped a few beats. I thought I’d fall over. “Oh, my! Oh, my!” was all I could say. No one except Paul was there to hear me.

I killed the ants with ant poison.

In case you wanted to know, it took almost 5 hours (over the course of that morning, that afternoon, and the next morning) to wash all the silverware and utensils in the drawers, wash all the pots in the one cabinet, and wipe down the entire pantry (even though the ants hadn’t made it that far).

I’m beginning to suspect that there is a nest under our house — last month they came in near the front door and the month before that they came in through the bathroom.

The good side of this horrendous problem is that now I am very motivated to wipe the kitchen table and counters immediately upon finishing eating and immediately after I get them dirty. I haven’t left dishes in the sink. I now have a clean pantry.

So there are some bonuses. But I’d rather the ants hadn’t invaded.

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Thoughts on womanhood and motherhood