To Everything There is a Season.

My 8 year old son, Enzo gets up early every morning so he can read the sports pages cover to cover. He pores over them at the kitchen table. He bangs his fist. He is like a middle aged man. If a game that he really wants to see is on a Sunday afternoon, he will speak of nothing else all weekend.

On Saturday morning, after he reads the sports, he will announce that he is going to be "RNH" the following afternoon. RNH stands for "Really Not Here". Fabio coined the phrase a few years ago. He says it whenever he needs to get stuff done around the house without being disturbed,and he is RNH when there is a big game on TV.

On Sunday afternoons, while Owen plays at the neighbors or just outside,Enzo will sit in front of the TV. I only see him during commercials. I have healthy 3 minute snacks for him waiting in the kitchen. No more eating in the TV room. If it is dinnertime, I will turn the game on in the kitchen. Thank God he's not a fat kid.

The weather has been too cold to do much of anything except stay home. Soon Enzo will need to end this little obsession and start playing outside. Summer will be better, so I indulge him now. It gets dark at 4, what are you going to do?

I let him watch all of the Super Bowl even though it was past his bed time. He fell asleep in the middle but woke up for the exciting finish. He wanted the Steelers so he was happy. I don't follow football but his enthusiasm overwhelmed me and I was screaming for the Steelers too.

During the Pro Bowl, Enzo explained to me in agonizing detail the differences between it and a regular season game. In the Pro bowl there is no blitzing,a coach cannot challenge, they can't replay and intentional grounding is allowed. Do you know how much they make mom? The winning team gets $45,000 and the losers get $22,500. To split? I just said that to make him laugh, he can be so serious.

He is now counting down the days, hours and minutes until pitchers and catchers report for Spring Training. Baseball is something I can get into with him. I love the Red Sox and so does he. Owen, or O contraire as we like to call him, likes the Yankees. I live in a house divided. A Tale of Two Cities. Owen is just doing this to bug us. It started in 3rd grade in a mad fit to impress a girl who won't give him the time of day in 4th, and now I think he feels stuck.

It doesn't help that we have a picture of him as a baby in full Yankee attire. It was a joke. I don't even know why I allowed it. We were living in Hawaii at the time so it didn't seem so evil. Fabio grew up in Westport, Connecticut and had been a life long Yankee fan until we met. In fact, it is sort of how we met.

I was sitting on a cooler at a party and Fabio wanted something that was in it. He asked me to move. I said, "Oh, am I sitting on the cooler?" I guess I didn't pronounce my "r" in cooler. He said, "Where are you from?" I said "Boston" (close enough). The very next thing he said to me was, "So what do you think of Bill Buckner?" This was 1996 , we hadn't won the World Series yet, unless you were counting 1918. Was he really bringing up 1986? I got up and gave him a hateful stare. I said, "I have to go." I was trying to be funny but the pain was real.

I really did have to go. I was supposed to pick my niece up at the airport and if I hadn't left then I would have been late. I left the party. Fabio found the hostess, my old friend from grade school,and said, "I have got to get that girl's number." He called me and we have been together ever since. Spent a romantic honeymoon in Cooperstown, NY if you know what I mean. We are perfect for each other.

I must point out that Fabio became a Red Sox fan BEFORE they won the World Series. How can you not root for the home team when you live in it? I will ask Owen.

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on Owen, his dad threw loyalty out the window for a girl too.

My New Clog

I had such a nice soup party about two weeks ago.Three families came over. I served Roasted Corn and Butternut Squash Soup (with some diced roasted red peppers). I also made an amazing white chili (I am going to end this post with that recipe-it is that good) and an involved minestrone. My boys had Progresso Chicken Noodle out of a can. Do you believe that?

The white chili went,there was nothing left. I had 2 tupperware containers filled with the other two soups. I put them in the mudroom which is a little colder than our refrigerator but not quite freezing. I forgot about them for two weeks. I would have loved them too. I can't believe I did that. It was because the boys weren't bugging me for them.

I finally got around to cleaning the mudroom. I am slowly working my way around the house. I have brought 6 huge boxes to Goodwill in the past two weeks. I saw the soup and figured drat it is off. I guess I am fooled by how modern our kitchen looks. I assumed I could use the disposal to dispose of the soup. So I did. It went down , I let it run, I ran the water. Everything seemed fine.

The next morning I went to switch the laundry that is directly below my kitchen sink. Both my basement basins were filled with water and soup. Apparently, our pipes are not modern at all.

I called Fabio, I tried to sound calm. He took the news well, as well as he could. He told me to pour 2 capfuls of this heavy duty stuff down the kitchen drain. If that didn't work in a day or two (he gave me a dosing schedule, it was 2 capfuls every 12 hours),I was to stick my arm in that mess and plug up one side with a rag and try to plunge the other side.

Of all days. Minutes before I saw this nightmare scenario playing out in front of me I had stripped all three beds. I was planning a marathon laundry day. I literally tripped over a mound of bed sheets as I spotted this avoidable disaster.

Fabio pulled up my blog entitled Help Wanted and read the third paragraph aloud to me over the phone. He repeated the last 3 lines just for fun.He was right. I didn't listen. He had told me that the pipes were old and not to use the garbage disposal for anything more than a stray crumb. I swear, I usually don't. I don't know what I was thinking. To hear Fabio tell it, it was as if I wasn't thinking at all.

It cost $365.00 to repair, but if anything happens in the next 5 years we are preferred customers. I actually woke poor Fabio up at 5 AM (he asked me to) when Mr. Rooter arrived at my door. I needed to know which credit card to use, and so on. I am telling you, I am like a new born baby when it comes to managing crisis. Before I married Fabio I was a serial live in nanny. I always had my own apartment and cars but nothing was ever in my name.

My 5 AM Fabio was positively Zen about everything, even when I tackled him with the grand total. I think it is because my birthday is coming up and he will not only miss that he will also miss St. Valentine's Day. Did I mention that it is snowing again and the kids are probably going to be dismissed early. I won't even get into my tub full of dishes.


White Chili (from the kitchen of Rosemary Liu)
INGREDIENTS
1 lb. small white beans
6 cups of chicken broth (although I use a lot more as it cooks down)
1 chicken bouillon cube
2 tsp. garlic powder
2 to 4 tsp. cumin
2 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
2 medium onions chopped and sauteed in 1 T oil until transparent
12 oz. chopped Ortega chilies (1 large and 1 small can)
1 whole (oven roasted) chicken, shredded
2 cups sour cream
3 cups grated jack cheese

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Soak the beans over night, discard water.
2. Add beans to chicken broth, bouillon, spices, onions and chilies.
3. Simmer 2 to 3 hours (I go for longer and that's where I add more broth, so watch it).
4. Add chicken, sour cream and cheese.
5. Serve with cilantro and olives.

This is the best chili I have ever had in my life. This chili never saw my drainpipes.

Looking good and feeling good

My 10 year old son BEGGED me to go to school last Monday. I knew he was sick, he swore he wasn't. Owen would usually jump at the chance to stay home. He only went because he had a brand new outfit, and he looked good. We bought it after school on Friday. Black Levi skinny jeans and a long sleeved Van's T-shirt. He had been pleading for these items for some time. It was decided among his friends that this should be his "look". LaShaun's look is "Element" and Ben's look is "Tony Hawk" . Owen was going for "Vans".

I had been sorting through all the boys clothes (in my mad cleaning efforts) and realized that Owen could use a few new articles of clothing. He was so surprised when I took him shopping on Friday. He wore the outfit on Saturday. He was so cute. He loved the way he looked. It was so obvious by the way he walked. On Sunday he monitored its washing and drying, reminding me until they were folded and waiting on his desk for Monday morning. He was so excited.

On Monday he woke up and looked sick. I told him that he didn't have to go to school. He assured me that he was fine, and insisted on going. At noon, I got a call from the school nurse.


It reminded me of when I was 6 years old. I really remember this. I don't remember much but I do remember this. I used to have really curly, wild hair. I wore it in banana curls. I was my first grade teacher's pet. I could do no wrong in Sister Anne's eyes.I even remember how unfair it seemed that she would always pick me to run errands or assist her in someway.

My mother decided that I should get a pixie haircut. She had all my curls cut off. I hated it. I'd bobby pin a piece of cloth to what little hair I had left. I don't know why she did that to me, I am still a little bitter.

The day after I got all of my hair cut off I went back to school. It was like a light went off in Sister Anne's eyes. She didn't call on me anymore.It was as if I didn't exist. I remember, even at that young age, feeling so slighted and embarrassed by the way I looked. It was an awful feeling.

I find myself still feeling that way from time to time. People pass judgment all the time. When I got back from India I was 20 pounds lighter than when I left. I got so many compliments, then I ate a 20 pound hamburger and gained it all back. I felt like a failure. I went on a diet and have lost 11 pounds, it is a constant struggle.

I was trying to figure out when I started to feel this way-never quite right- and it dawned on me. Sister Anne had sort of set the tone for my life. That is wrong. Children feel deeply.

I saw Sister Anne again when I was 36 years old, I was married with 2 beautiful boys. She was at my parent's 50th Wedding Anniversary party. She told me that she was surprised that I turned out so well,she said it jokingly but I could tell she was looking for a crack.

Help Wanted.

NB.That is Fabio on top of the house.











I was talking with Tony at the corner store the other day. I was saying how much respect I had for single mothers. He said that he had none. He complained of them bilking the system. I was like what if they are widowed? He had sympathy in that case. Abandoned? Maybe, depends. No matter how they arrived at their station, I have nothing but respect. The sheer enormity of the task! It requires two people. When you do it alone, you are severely understaffed.

I have been doing it alone for 2 weeks now and have 4 more to go. Fabio! I miss him. He is such a help. Everything works better when he is around. Eddie's bowl is always full (don't worry, I am not starving the boy, it is just now I have to think about it).
A light bulb is only out for as long as it takes to screw a new one in. I sit in the dark for days.

Honestly, Fabio makes this house run like a top. I cook, I clean but I don't fix things, I don't avert crisis. I tend not to think too far in advance. Fabio does all that. He revels in being the provider. He tries to explain things to me but I don't listen. He repeats himself so often that I figure I will catch it the next time. Eventually it sticks, but not before some avoidable disaster. I should change my tact.


He had a running list of things to go over in his absence. He didn't sleep for days before he left. He was a bundle of nerves. He was so worried about the snow. He SHOULD have been worried about the snow! We have been socked 3 times since he left.
Let's hear it for good neighbors.

A week before he left it snowed and we went sledding at North Providence High School. The kids had so much fun. Fabio spent the entire time worrying about how we would manage all this fun when he was in Hawaii for 6 weeks.

That night it rained and rained. When we woke up all of the snow was gone and it was almost warm. I heard Fabio puttering around in the garage. We have two cars. One is this ugly mauve Ford Windstar mini van that I absolutely HATE to drive and the other is this ugly little Nissan that I don't mind driving. These are my punishments for wrecking 3 Volvos in 4 years time. That was almost 5 years ago and I haven't had an accident since, it was a weird time for me.

Fabio called me outside, he knows I hate that mini van. He had stuffed one of the 2 inflatable sleds in the back seat of the Nissan, and he showed me how to safely strap 2 boys in. The other sled was sticking out of the trunk. He wanted to show me how to carefully lay a towel across the sled and pull the trunk down with a bungee cord. As he was doing this,our neighbor walked by and said, "Hate to disappoint you kids, but the snow is all gone."

The Library

The library is the best hour of my day. It is right next door to Enzo's school. Enzo gets picked up at 2pm and Owen doesn't get out until 3:05 pm , five minutes away. I have to go to the library before I get Enzo in order to sign him up for 2:30 computer time.

After I do that, I go and get him from school and walk over to the library with him. We sit at a table and he does his homework. I read or write. At 2:30 his name is called and he goes on the computer for 25 minutes. He plays "icy towers" because it is his favorite game.We had to take it off of our computer because it was screwing everything up for some reason. It is the perfect compromise.

Fabio used to come home from picking up the boys with his current book in his hand and extol the virtues of the Wanskuck Public Library. I was just glad not to have to rush home from ice skating. My short skate season pass is only good from 12 to 2 M-F. Now I get to the rink at Noon on the dot and skate for an hour, an hour and fifteen minutes, and then head straight for the library.

If I don't sign Enzo up before I meet him, then ALL the 2;30 slots are filled. I am surprised that they let me do that. They run such a tight ship. It is such a nice environment. They have an after school program for kids whose parents work. It is no nonsense and homework first. Enzo is so serious there.

Fabio is NOT taking this back over when he comes home. It restores me. I look forward to it all day. I love the quiet book lined rooms. I love the big Haitian security guard who walks around barking , with good reason and good humor, at all dem disobeying kids. I love the ladies behind the counter with their long grey hair. They look just like you want a librarian to look like,glasses hanging from their necks. Fabio calls them witches. But we both agree that they are "good witches". Only law and order prevails in their library.

Surfaces

My attempts at organization are legendary.I never quite get it right. I will stuff drawers with useless things. Coupons from three years ago,blurry photos of someone else's kid,menus from restaurants that I don't even like,half a deck of playing cards. Every drawer is like that. My house is an internal mess. You would never know it to look at it. It is dusted and vacuumed and looks great on the outside.

I have a plan. While I was cleaning and sorting over at my parents I found a pile of unused boxes and some packing tape. I have dumped the entire contents of every drawer into 12 boxes. I marked them clearly so I know which room they belong to and I have stacked them neatly in the back basement. Everyday I go through a box,one item at a time and I either do one of three things with them. Goodwill. Trash. Keep. It is so liberating.

I have read so many books about organization. I recently got this one out of the library. I was reading it in the car while Fabio and I Christmas shopped. He took a hard left and my coffee spilled all over it. I was the first person to ever borrow this book. We had to buy it!

The irony doesn't end there. While on that shopping trip I bought some 8X10 frames. I wanted to give my family members a really nice photo of my mom and her sisters taken in Olgunquit, Maine in the 1950's for Christmas. I couldn't find the photographs ,but I knew I had just seen them. I had them done in India and had been holding on to them for months. I looked all over the house for days.I finally found them. When I came home from shopping I had put my organization book on top of them, and then put the frames on top of the book. That little sandwich really lit a fire in me.

Goodwill. Trash. Keep. I will hold everything I own up to this mantra. Surfaces. Clean empty surfaces.

Ice Skating and Indian Traffic

Fabio pulled me aside last Saturday morning and said, "Do you want to take the boys ice skating and then get hot chocolate at the Biltmore?" How exciting. We all got dressed and drove downtown. On the way, Fabio (He is back to being Fabio after spending a few weeks in Hawaii)commented how he couldn't wait to bum out the beret wearing poets and tweed jackets at the Biltmore. He used to love to stand outside the fancy restaurants that line Hope Street in Bristol, RI with a screaming baby and fidgety toddler and earnestly contemplate the menu. He'd look at me and say, "Watch this." He made everyone in the window seats freak. My husband knows how to have fun. We have loud kids, and there is always something on their mind that they need to discuss right away.

I am used to skating by myself between 12 and 2 on weekdays. Occasionally 3, at the most 5, people might join me. Weekends? Amateur hour. After about 20 minutes of weekend skating I pulled the boys aside and asked them to find as many similarities as they could between a ride in a rickshaw in India and ice skating on a Saturday in Providence,RI. The list was endless. It was jammed with people. I reckon I could stop there.

You have your high speed fanatics weaving in and out of stalled vehicles at record speeds, just sort of pissed off. You have your inevitable collisions, but everyone just gets up, dusts themselves off, and continues on with their day.

One day after school when we were in India the boys and I went out for cold drinks. We decided to have a little adventure. I had found a flier for a restaurant in my mailbox. I showed it to the rickshaw driver. He had no idea where it was and kept making stops at tea stalls and barber stands asking for help. We finally found it, but it was on the other side of 12 lanes of traffic. He pulled a U-turn and darted and weaved until he made his way.
The boys and I held our breath. We got inside, ordered some Limca and relaxed. Before the cold drinks were served, we witnessed a bang up accident right where we were just dropped off. A motorcycle and moped slammed into each other and the SEVEN people involved went flying. No one was really hurt (I am just guessing this from the scene that followed). They all got up, had a good laugh, re-adjusted their mirrors,and went their separate ways. Two of the passengers were holding parts of one of the bikes as they rode away.

That is EXACTLY what happens on free for all Saturdays at the ice rink. I laugh out loud at the blatant similarities. You have the women in beautiful saris clutching the drivers and you have the women in little ice skating outfits holding on to their instructor, both expecting to eventually tumble. A given.
There are idiots on the cell phone weaving in and out like they are the only ones out there. THEY have places to go that YOU have only heard of. The person they are talking to is very very important. Loud crackly music is playing. It sounds foreign.Then of course there is the way it just works seamlessly for awhile, near misses and continued motion.

I much prefer going at noon on a weekday. The only time I can bring the boys, however, is usually when other people have the great idea to do the same. Weekends are torture. I feel like I have a million uninvited guests in my home.