Delicious Sunday Breakfast

I have a weakness for legumes. Creamy, warm refried pinto beans or cold chickpeas thrown into a chorizo and spinach salad. I eat hummus off my finger if I can't locate a suitable dipping vegetable. My grandmother used to make this wonderful Italian bean stew that consisted of pinto beans, giant rigatoni noodles and rosemary. It was a winter staple in our house.

You can imagine my delight yesterday when combing through the aisles of Sainsburys in Newry, when I fixed my eyes upon canned black beans. Yes I know, very unpatriotic going North of the border... so sue me. Canned black beans? I am not a patient person as has been outlined in previous posts and despite soaking beans overnight, I always have to boil them for hours on end. That kind of preparation time isn't necessarily conducive to those spur of the moment bean cravings. I have an awfully hard time finding canned black beans in my local area. Needless to say I bought eight cans. Last night I made the most wonderful spicy beans with sauteed onion, left over chicken, red and yellow peppers and corn. I then mixed in chopped tomatoes and this very spicy salsa seasoning packet I picked up at Cost Plus and squeezed an orange over the top. Despite my mouth being on fire I nearly demolished them. Cupcake did motion towards my bowl of beans and I placed one tiny kernel of corn on her tray but it went straight on to the floor. Poor Oscar probably has indigestion.

Today I decided to make myself a bastardized huevos rancheros. I only recently discovered huevos rancheros on my last trip home in December. I know, call me crazy, but for breakfast I usually prefer something sweet like french toast if eating out. I feel cheated in a way considering I eat Mexican food everyday when home in California. This morning I heated the leftover beans, chopped some spinach, toasted a crumpet (another Sainsburys purchase) and fried a sunny side egg, oh yeah and added some hot sauce for good measure. It was heaven. If only I had a soft corn tortilla...

Food Problems

My child is officially a picky eater. Gone are the days when she would eat cheese covered broccoli, a nice stew or mac and cheese with peas. My daughter's diet now consists of a banana and cereal for breakfast, a box of raisins or a babybel cheese for snack, yogurt or a fruit cup for lunch and perhaps a slice of bread or a potato farl, breadsticks for afternoon snack, and for dinner eggs or fish sticks and peaches. Except today she didn't even eat the eggs, probably because I had grated zucchini into it. Seriously though, I just can't understand it, she eats like a mad woman for the creche. I am rapidly approaching my wits end. In fact, I think I passed the sign about a mile back. The thing that really gets me is that I am a good cook. Yes, permit me to talk myself up here, but I am a really good cook. These days everything I cook is met with pure disgust and goes straight off the highchair tray onto the floor for the dogs. I am sad to report that Oscar has regained the 2 lbs lost during his temporary paralysis and all due to my little ray of sunshine. I've tried bringing it back to basics, I've tried livening things up. I've combined, I've separated - different bowls, plates, cups, etc. I've moved the high chair around. I've let her sit on my lap to pick off my plate. I've pleaded, cajoled, cried, pretended not to notice. She basically only eats carbs and fruit. What am I to do? I want to bring the boobs back. Is it too late?

In short, I am what rad dad describes as 'perflummoxed'. 

Please Consider Donating for Team Noelle

A friend of mine from high school is currently battling AML Leukemia.  She had gone into remission but has recently relapsed and the race is on to find a suitable bone marrow donor. Below is a message from Noelle's sister Juliette explaining the situation:

My 29 year old sister, Noelle, is bright and bubbly, she virtually sparkles and shines. A UC Davis graduate, she is the epitome of a young on-the-go professional enjoying life, friends and family. She could be your daughter, friend, cousin, coworker or niece. 

However, her normal, young adult life has taken a serious detour -- again. After being diagnosed with AML Leukemia, treated, and in remission, Noelle was starting to get her life back on track when her blood test results of Friday, April 10th indicated that she had relapsed. 

A stem cell (marrow) donor is needed. The first step is to find a match. I am not a match, I wish I were. But you could possibly help.

Even though we seem as white as can be, we are half hispanic, which makes it harder to find a donor.

Donor tissue typing costs are completely covered by a grant for everyone of Asian/Pacific Islander, African American, Latino, Native American, or Multi-racial decent because of the severe need of donors from these backgrounds.

A simple procedure --- 4 swabs of your cheek cells 10 seconds each -- determines your tissue type – that’s it.

Please consider this gift of life. Join Be The Match – National Marrow Donor Program (NMDP) – together we can make a difference. 

To register online:

Go to www.bethematch.org, click “Join”, then click “Join Now”, use promo code TEAMNOELLE2009. Once the online forms are completed, a swab kit and instructions will be mailed. Mail the kit back to NMDP and once the kit is processed, you will be entered into the Registry. A confirmation letter will then be sent. 

100% Caucasian donors will be asked to make a $25.00 online tax deductible donation. Ethnic and mixed race donors will not be charged – due to their under representation in the registry.

This special drive will expire May 15, please do not delay if you would like to register online. It can take 6-8 weeks for the process.

If you have any questions, I would be happy to answer them or you may contact www.bethematch.org. / NMDP Representative Magda Silva (510) 301-9512.

You can also register in person. Drives are constantly held. Please check the website for dates and locations.

Pass the word on!

website: www.bethematch.org

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

After checking on the website it appears that the bone marrow donor organisation for Ireland is not linked with that in the US so it seems that if you are interested in donating you must be based in the US. Please if there is anyone out there who wants to donate please do so. Noelle is an AMAZING person and needs a donor.

Remembering Loss

Today I attended the funeral of a friend's grandmother. As I peered out my window I lamented the grey dark clouds and thought to myself what an appropriate backdrop for the ceremony at hand. 

I got to thinking about funerals, indeed, about different 'rites of passage' and how as a society we mark those occasions. The last funeral that I attended was my grandfather's in December 2006. I was living here in Ireland at the time and got the call that I was to come back for the ceremony. Despite knowing that my Grandfather's long period of suffering had come to an end, I didn't want to say goodbye. No one ever wants to say a permanent goodbye. I became conscious of the collective rituals that we participated in to celebrate his life. From the shared memories, to our individual goodbyes; we all mourned differently. It was probably the first time that I have been home where I had no other obligations other than to think about his impact on my life and my family. After his funeral those of us 'of age' decided that we needed to drink copious amounts of alcohol and celebrate life. My brother and three cousins and I  poured forth our grief mingled with laughter. We came together as a family to commiserate, to remember, and to celebrate. It struck me then, that death was as much about living as it was about dying.

At the funeral today I was surprised by the number of people who attended; clearly this was a well loved woman. Afterwards I felt compelled to join family and friends for lunch. The sun had decided to grace us with its presence. I was not disappointed in my decision to attend, the venue was beautiful and well chosen, with a lush and fragrant garden that seemed to reflect her life. The rich colours were bathed in the warm light of the sun as cupcake and I strolled around. Thinking of my friend's grandmother I was aware of a peaceful feeling and I thought that this day seemed a nice way to mark her passing.

The Weekend

It was an interesting weekend to say the least. On Saturday I attended a seminar, Reading Bracha Ettinger. It was delightfully theoretical and had my brain working in unbelievable directions. Bracha Ettinger is a Lacanian trained Psychoanalyst, also a friend of Julia Kristeva, Luce Irigaray, Emmanuel Levinas and Jean-Francois Lyotard. Wow. However, I was thrilled to my soul to listen to art historian Griselda Pollock join in on the day. Pollock has written extensively on Ettinger's theories and her art. I am a huge fan and now I am an even bigger fan! Not only was she extremely glamourous but also so insightful. And I picked up her pen. (go on you can call me a nerd). So after that heavy day I decided only some very cold beers could help me decompress. As it turned out I was right.

On Sunday I ran around after cupcake at the playground. She loved the swings and adored the slide, although Mommy only felt it was safe if we went down together. I spent the rest of the day minding her while Daddy studied for his exams. Last night was the night from hell, I really hope there are some teeth on the way soon! Co-sleeping with a child laying sideways in the bed can never be fun. Oh well at least I had her head, Daddy was stuck with little feet digging into his back.

This morning, despite feeling like someone had kicked my head in and made me sleep on a bed of nails, I roused myself to partake in some 'fresh air'. We ventured into the garden and had fun eating dirt and pulling weeds. Cupcake loved putting her arms in the watering can and dropping handfuls of compost into the flowerpots. It was very joyful for all involved (us and the two dogs) and nearly erases her lunch time escapade of hurling a bowl of spaghetti at my newly painted wall. Nearly.

Incineration vs the Environment

Just a couple minutes ago some guy called to the house with regards to hauling away the growing pile in front of our garage. We have had work done to the house over the last few months and we keep 'decluttering'. But I am environmentally friendly and if someone wants me to pay them to haul this junk away they better 1. have a permit and 2. be disposing of it in a way I feel it safe for the environment. He had no permit, so I asked him, what do you do with it? He incinerates it. Oh God. I was like is that legal? I thought we weren't allow to incinerate rubbish. He was like I just take it to a field behind my house and burn it. Whatever I may feel about controlled incineration in a CONTROLLED environment, incinerating trash in a field is the same as a giant bonfire. I am staunchly AGAINST bonfires. I don't mean a glorified campfire with wood in a permitted area, I mean the Irish style lets burn couches and rubber and plastics and inhale the fumes until we poison our children type of bonfire. (Yes I am dramatic) There is absolutely no way I am going to let this guy take away my pile to burn it uncontrolled in a field, I'd much rather have the old coffee table sit there for a while longer. The more I am thinking about it I am actually feeling sick, how many illegal operations like this are going on out there? 

Pet Peeve #212

For those of you who know me you can probably recall a time when something or indeed someone has annoyed me. Today I give you pet peeve #212.

On the days I work from home, I make a _____ (insert word here - puny? miniscule?) attempt to tidy the house. At some stage I stare at the growing pile of laundry and think to myself that it is time to get a start on it. Generously my husband has left a load of clean -but-now-dirty because they have been in there so long for me to deal with. This usually means rewashing to combat the smell of damp. After rewashing today I removed the items to throw in the drier when it hit me, pet peeve #212. A small, red  christmas bib had lovingly velcro-ed itself to my good bra. When I attempted to separate the stretchy spandex from the close embrace of the velcro the material snagged. It was one of those moments when I could feel my anger rise to the surface. There are two things I keep asking him not to do: 1. Put frying pans in the dishwasher to be cleaned and 2. Put the velcro bibs in with anything they might snag - i.e. my underwear, workout clothes, stretchy tank tops. Wait now that I am thinking about it there are a lot more but in the spirit of all things fair I will just mention those two.

Gender Roles in Children's Books

PB (pre-birth) I would spend hours imagining the possibility of having a daughter with whom I would share my love of art. Most importantly, I envisioned myself birthing a little feminist. I have often said that I am from a long line of strong women. That doesn't necessarily mean that there is something inherent in my DNA that will instantly produce an offspring who celebrates gender equality or one who knows the power of her own self worth. These are things we have to work at and sometimes I feel like every time I take a step forward in one area I take a step backwards in another. You must be wondering what the hell am I on about? 

My pequeno pepita loves looking at books and recently has been fascinated with Irish Legends for Children, a book  her father simply insisted she must own. It is more age appropriate for for the 4+ range as the book and print are small and the pages are easily torn by clumsy fingers. Nevertheless it is now the book she reaches for when it is time to wind down in the evenings.  Before bed last night I selected Deirdre of the Sorrows to read to her. Skimming ahead while she looked at the pictures I realised it ticked all the boxes of the traditional fairy tale. Druids foretell a terrible fate for Deirdre, she will be the most beautiful woman and the cause of many deaths. Wait a minute, I have heard this one before, Helen of Troy anyone? In order to avoid this, King Connor vows to marry the girl when she is old enough and whisks her away to a forest where a wise-woman raises her. Deirdre dreams of Naoise (enter tall, dark and handsome warrior) and upon meeting they sail away together (I am sumarising here folks). They return to Ulster believing themselves forgiven by King Connor only to fall prey to a trap. They are captured and Naoise is slain. Deirdre dies of grief, hence the name Deirdre of the Sorrows. Half way through the tale I threw it down in disgust and made up my own about a strong woman who can do anything she wants to and doesn't need a man to dictate how her life will turn out or indeed save her from any terrible fate. Surely there must be a feminist fairy tales for little children, or at least one that promotes gender equality instead of solidifying gender roles so often found in children's books (and Disney movies) from days gone by. Traditional texts and images continually reproduce woman as weak and passive and man as conquering hero. Personally I think we could do with more characters that subvert these common gender stereotypes. 

As a funny aside my husband interrupted my tirade against all things that reinforce essentialist notions by reminding me that I don't need to deconstruct everything. I could only roll my eyes and say, if I don't deconstruct, how can I reconstruct?

Around the World in 80 Clicks- A Motherhood Journey

I've just been tagged in an 'Around the World in 80 Clicks - a Motherhood Journey ' connecting blog moms around the globe, asking them to list 5 things they love (or don't love) about being a mother. The original post was by Catherine at Her Bad Mother. I was kindly tagged by fellow Irish blogging Mom, Irish Mammy on the Run.

1. Breastfeeding. Hands down the most amazing thing about motherhood so far. I loved the closeness of our bodies and the way she would pat my breasts as if to reassure me that I was doing a good job. I loved feeding her in odd places like after the Women's Mini Marathon, sitting on a curb after running ( jogging? power walking?) 10k. Selfishly I loved that I was the only person in the whole world that could provide that for her.

2. Pickiness. She used to be an amazing eater, I am talking all types of organic veg out the wazoo - spinach, broccoli, zucchini, peppers, squash, and pumpkin. Now she won't eat anything, it just goes straight on the floor to the dogs. In fact she had 6 breadsticks and a fruit cup for dinner. Now I am beginning to understand why people resort to readymade meals. Except I refuse to give in, I will win this battle of the wills.

3. The homing device she has placed somewhere on my person. Not that I am frequently trying to evade her but she always manages to find me. That makes it sounds like I am abandoning her in a shopping mall or something. What I really mean is she could be playing happily with toys suitable for a 14 month old such as remote control, my keys, mobile phone, etc and I could leave the room for a second. Somehow she manages to teleport herself attached to my right leg. It is really amazing, or annoying, depending on how you look at it.

4. Language. I am so grateful that I read all that psychoanalytical stuff that Sigmund Freud, Jacque Lacan, Melanie Klein, Luce Irigaray and Julia Kristeva have written. It is fascinating to watch her developmental stages, especially now that she is learning that we are separate entities and language begins to help her define herself. I love the crazy mouth acrobatics she is obsessed while trying out new sounds. Our latest vocal pursuit in search of linguistics includes darting the tongue in and out of the mouth touching the top lip making a 'lebble lebble' sound. She could point to a picture of an elephant a hundred times and never tire of me saying, 'Elephant, elephant, elephant'.

5. Special Moments. Those times we share where she is so heartbreakingly cute. For instance, when I weaned her she only once asked me to feed her. It was 3 am and she pointed to my breast and asked 'That?' and I said, 'No honey, that is all gone'. She understood the enormity of what that meant and just started to cry (I cried later). Or when she arrived home from daycare and laid on the ground so our miniature dachshund Oscar could sniff her body. Last week she learned to blow kisses and now when she wakes up she blows a kiss to the picture of my parents in her bedroom.

UPDATE: Looks like this thing is really starting to get going... For more views on motherhood check out Psyche at a life reconstructed.

Candy and Cupcakes!

I don't celebrate Easter, for the simple fact that I am not a Christian. In fact, I am not anything (except woman, mother, artist, etc) but nothing that pertains to anything of the religious persuasion. That being said when speaking to my parents on Friday, my father intimated that I was the Easter equivalent of the Grinch. He reminded that was I to be present this weekend in Tahoe, I would have received an Easter basket. Our family tradition was to hunt for our wicker baskets that the 'bunny' would cleverly hide throughout the house. They were often filled with our family favourites; plastic eggs with brightly coloured jelly beans, cadburys mini eggs, a Reese's peanut butter cup and my eternal weakness, a large See's Bordeaux egg. He contended that I was a killjoy and should allow the little one a small taste of chocolate. I wish I could tell you that she has never had any chocolate, but apparently there was one incident when I was away in Krakow. She opened a kitchen cabinet, found a large partially unwrapped chocolate bar and left teeth marks from here to Timbuktu.

Seeing as how we were attending Sunday dinner at my in-laws complete with visiting cousins, I decided that I would dye some hard boiled eggs for the kids to look for in the garden in lieu of the usual sugary sweets. There were several very cool DIY websites that offered simple instructions using things most of us would have around the house. Unfortunately all I had was wine and red currants. I figured that would make a purply-red egg, but I forgot that the eggs here are brown! So instead my glorious hard boiled eggs were an even darker shade of brown and resembled the chocolate eggs they are supposed to substitute! When that project failed, I thought that mini cupcakes for the kids might be the way forward. I adapted a vanilla thyme recipe to create a peach vanilla thyme cupcake. I garnished them with a cream cheese frosting and a strawberry for good measure. After all my hard work my little cupcake didn't even want to try her cupcake. Too bad - everyone else loved them! 

How I spent my long weekend... Cooking

I love long weekends, to me they equal lazy days, good meals and general relaxation. Yesterday we spent the better part of the day recovering from the previous night's meal. We had my American friends over for dinner. I decided to boldly go where I have never gone before and cook a whole salmon. I was a bit nervous because fish is not my forte. Salads, chicken, vegetables, baked good; these are where my strengths lie. But because my friend is a 'fish eating' vegetarian I said what the hell. I managed to find a large whole salmon at Tesco for 6.49. Now even though it is farmed that is a deal in my book. I roasted it on a bed of leeks, stuffed it with Valencia oranges, red onions and basil, and it was brushed with orange butter. It turned out fabulous! I served it with roasted potatoes with mint, steamed green beans with parmesan and butter (an idea courtesy of E.B.) and a salad with pear, feta, pumpkin seeds, spinach and mixed leaves with a balsamic honey mustard dressing. Our friends brought over a nice bottle of white, a new treat for us. We are mainly red drinkers but the white went down surprisingly well, almost too well. 5 bottles of wine later... (someone had run out to the off license !) I didn't think I would feel like cooking yesterday but I managed to rouse myself for a roasted chicken with a squash, parsnip and spinach gratin. Today I've been a bit more productive, I went for a run this morning and started tidying the back garden. My little friend kindly helped me by throwing a ball for Lulu and she also tried to help me pick stinging nettles (ouch). Now I am slow roasting a half leg of lamb for dinner. I bought some fresh rhubarb (Eoin's FAVOURITE stalk?) and I was thinking of making a compote to serve with the meat. Tomorrow we are planning to head out for a bike ride if the weather remains sunny. 

Healthy as a Horse

Despite the announcement of the emergency budget and its long reach into our wallets there has been some good news in my life. A couple of weeks ago I went to have some tests done - i.e. liver, kidney, thyroid, you know the drill. I woke up one morning and realised that ever since producing offspring I worry a lot about illness and my impending death. I am not trying to sound like a fatalist here, even though I feel like one sometimes, but I think having a child puts your life a little more into perspective. For example, all those stupid things I agonised over PB (pre-birth) seem silly and miniscule in comparison to the real issues AB (after-birth). I finally decided that it was time to go have things checked out to put my mind at ease. After receiving the results yesterday I can now report that I am as healthy as a horse. My cholesterol is not only good, it is excellent. This is a huge relief because my father's side of the family is prone to high cholesterol, most since their thirties. The only slight 'blip' was that my iron is low, within the normal range but nevertheless on the low/normal threshold. I have to admit I am a bit puzzled since I am a member of the spinach fan club and eat raw spinach in salads 4-5 times a week. Perhaps I need to think about getting back together with red meat...

My little buzzing bee

Upon arriving home yesterday afternoon from my two days away my little honey bee cried as soon as I opened the car door. It was nice to know that someone had missed me. However I have to admit that the elation I felt when I saw her was soon quashed. We went over to my sister-in-law's for an early dinner, tea, I believe they call it. When my husband mentioned it to me on the phone I misinterpreted and thought tea as in a cup of. Really the last thing I wanted to do was go and make small talk. I just wanted to sit at home with my baby on my lap and cuddle her all night. Despite enjoying my two days I really missed having her near me all the time. As soon as we arrived over, honey bee went to absolutely everyone except Mama. I actually thought I was going to cry. On one hand, I was happy to see that she is so open to different people (grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousin), but on the other I felt hurt. I mean, didn't she need that closeness with me like I needed it from her? 

Reports from Manchester

Good news, the conference paper was... a success! I can breathe easy now. I was worried I would be torn apart but was spared. The crowd was friendly and super understanding when my paper came in at 20 min instead of 30! I had culled a good deal of material in my second to last edit, only to realise that I definitely had more time. The feedback was positive across the board and I was relieve that the organiser, someone whose work I admire was very supportive of my ideas. Woo hoo! One of my most exciting developments of the day is that I have met a kindred soul who is an American based in Belfast. We had the most amazing conversation, it was like talking to myself about art but better. I think I need to have more of those shared art moments. It makes me remember why I got so excited by art in the first place. I think it is so rare these days to meet someone who just blows me away. I am delighted with a new connection. That sounds like a fortune cookie...

The most bizarre moment...

This is a little off topic, but then again this blog is really about me, so indulge me. I arrived safe and sound in Manchester and at the train station I bump into an acquaintance. We decide to take the train in to town together and I dump my stuff in the hotel. I am not really the best at traveling alone. I like to talk. I like to have people I know to talk to. It is kind of daunting traveling on my own. Together we go for a couple drinks. We chat, catch up on gossip, etc. then he reveals that he is meeting someone. Turns out this someone is exactly 13 years younger. Hmmm. Awkward silence. Oh cool, I say. So we walk over to the train station to meet her. She didn't like that he went for a drink with me and throws a hissy fit. Seriously - was I that dumb at twenty? He tries to introduce her to me and she says oh hi and doesn't even look at me. Talk about INSECURE... So I graceful say my goodbyes yada yada and say maybe we will meet up later, let me know what your plans are... Then I turn to her and say, hopefully next time we meet you will be in a better mood. I am still shaking my head, that was so weird.

Cheap as Chips... er Chickens?

Wow this morning I saw free range chickens in Aldi - 4.99 for 1500 grams. Talk about a spectacular deal! I can never afford the organic chicken but I feel good about free range. At least I know that the animal is being treated with some decency. I think what really bothers me is knowing that the biggest seller out there is are the breasts. What ever happened to using the rest of the bird? I love a good homemade chicken soup - boil the carcass, add some carrots, celery and noodles... yum. I actually don't mind buying a whole bird and cutting it up into the separate pieces for different meals. Seriously a huge savings and how many more meals can you get from it?

Disclaimer:

Admittedly I do not feel that way about other animals - i.e. pigs and cows. But I don't eat red meat (only very rarely) and pigs, I am sorry but the thought of offal, kidneys, liver, and trotters (feet for all you non Irish based readers) just really turns me off. Recently, I have had several 'incidents' with black pudding (ok maybe it was the wine that did it...) I am also the girl who used to eat bread and butter religiously as a child and went through a non-egg / non-fish period. I have only recently (i.e. last 5 years) had what I call my seafood revolution. On the topic of food, my newest guilty pleasure are potato farls hot from the toaster, like a potato poptart. Yum.

Doubting Mommy

I can't quite put my finger on it, but ever since having my little honey bee I have been plagued by self doubt. I go through these periods where I lack confidence in my abilities and it really brings me down. I realise this sounds quite depressing but normal human beings can't always be upbeat right? And really there is no need to lie and say I am some perfect mother with a perfect life because if you have read any of my posts you will know that I am anything but perfect. Its like the whole hormonal change that comes with pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding combined with the lack of sleep plus learning to function on a complete different plane of existence has thrown me out of whack. Before all of this I was so certain in myself, so sure that I was good at what I do. Now I can barely string two sentences together and I am questioning whether or not I am good enough to complete my PhD. I had those fears in the beginning of the programme but I steadily grew in confidence. Now I am back to square one and I feel like have to re-learn everything. I also feel like I don't have an original idea left in my brain. Is this something that other women do? Am I doomed to forever question myself and my abilities? 

A Canary

Sometimes when I look at my little one I struggle to find a characteristic that reflects me. People often comment just how much she looks like her father. Once someone told me, "If she didn't come out of your body I wouldn't think she was yours." How I am supposed to respond to a comment like that... thanks? Yes, she is the "image" of her father. In the early days his family thought there were similarities between her and my father and sister. But since I have spent 41 weeks carrying her around inside me and the last 13 months nurturing her, very lovingly might I add, I want to know that there is something about me in her. I mean isn't this one of the (many) reasons people reproduce? They want a little miniature version running around. I know that sound might sound very selfish but if you had a kid who was nothing like you it would be a little disappointed right? Yesterday my husband was talking to my parents and he said "she definitely has the same temper." Yes! I thought to myself, something that was identifiably ME! Wait, a temper isn't exactly the best quality you want to hand down to your child. But it is undeniable, she does have a very strong temper. Take the remote control away or stop her from doing something annoying/that could potentially cause harm and wow you get it full blast. The Irish have a curious phrase, it's called "having a canary". I've been trying to think what we would call it at home - maybe we would say "having a cow?" - a phrase synonymous with Bart Simpson, but I think we really did say that. I suppose I'd better keep searching for that part of me that is a little bit more flattering to pass on.

The Acrobat

I have discovered that my little cupcake is an acrobat and Houdini all rolled into one. Today she tried to climb on the window sill by standing on the arm of the couch. Shifting the couch 3 feet from the window does not seem to deter her in the slightest. She also managed to escape the straps of her highchair and when I turned around was standing in the seat. She then proceeded to tease Mama by carefully lifting one leg in the air and placing her foot in her food. Needless to say I nearly had a heart attack, but of course that makes her shenanigans all the more delightful to undertake right? The girl is nearly impossible to contain, I practically have to hog tie her to her changing table. I can just imagine her concocting wild plans to escape from the house as a teenager. Oh god, I've given birth to myself.

A Wasted Saturday

Disappointingly I am sitting out in the University coffee shop, frantically downing coffee and trying to write a lecture for Monday. Apparently there was supposed to be strike action on Monday by both staff and students. Convenient for both sides right? This week I happily focused on trying to write my conference paper and when I wanted to avoid it I tried to clean the house. But I was informed on Thursday afternoon that the staff strike had been called off. Thursdays are my last 'working' day of the week. Guess I should have written it instead of wasting my time on the internet all day. Now I am out in attempting to get some 'ideas'. I say ideas in quotation marks because I am sure that I have real ideas but I feel like I need some theoretical ideas. As much as I would love to just talk for an hour about the artist whose work we are discussing, I need theory to back up some of my claims. Incidentally, the student strike has not been called off, meaning that while I have to be prepared to give the lecture, there might not be anyone there to hear it! Meanwhile the little family is off exploring a working farm where you get to pet animals and have picnics. The cousins are over from Spain and cupcake has been having a great time with them. And by great time I mean she absolutely refuses to share toys or her Nana. (What am I chopped liver?) But the worst part is while they are off galavanting in the countryside I am stuck here with that stupid teletubbies song stuck in my head and I can't hear myself think with it in there! Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala, Po...

Now entering Phase 2

After consuming massive amount of sage I am happy (?) to report that the production of milk has slowed. I was thinking about how great nursing was for both of us. It was my answer to everything, illness, comfort, sleeping, depression (er... this is me I am talking about here!). But then I starting to think about what comes after nursing? I've decided phase two is the 'mothering' phase. No longer can I rely on the old standby to problem solve, I actually have to take a proactive approach to mothering. And by that I mean aside from lifting up my shirt. On the plus side we did enjoy our first morning cuddle today.

Ode to Cabbage

You expected this to be some kind of pseudo-Irish celebration of the wonderful leafy green didn't you? Just a quick post to say my daughter and my mammaries have parted ways. After returning home from Krakow the little pet didn't even care about them, well that is to say not until 3 in the morning when she awoke, fussed a bit and then tried to pull my cardigan open saying in the sweetest, most precious voice- 'That?" I nearly crumbled but figured we had gone nearly 5 days. By this evening we will be 7 days into the weaning process. I am sitting in my office right now hoping that no one sees me adjusting the cabbage leaves down my bra. Yesterday on the bus I swear girl next to me could smell my sweaty leaves. My doctor laughed hysterically when I took off my bra and asked me if they really work. I think the jury is still out on that one. But at this stage I am doing everything I can - peppermint tea, pain killers, hot compresses...I have, incidentally, consumed nearly half a bottle of dried sage per kellymom.com's advice. Swallowing handfuls of sage with barely any water has been interesting to say the least. Here's hoping mastitis is not in the cards.

Sleep - part two - Revenge of the baby

4.55 am? Piece of Cake! Try 3.50 am. Yes gentle reader you are not imagining that time. 3.50 am is when my darling (teeth gritting) baby woke up this morning. Full of vim and vigour, ready to get up and go. After nursing for an insanely long amount of time that I won't even talk about here, it was my turn to let 'rad dad' have his peace. Cupcake and I headed off downstairs to play her new favourite game, 'feeding'. She first goes to all of the kitchen drawers and then pulls out all of her bowls and cups. Next she reaches for the potato masher, not really sure why, perhaps it is something inherent in the Irish? Then she walks around feeding everyone from either the masher or a spoon. The irony is, she gets very annoyed if you do not 'eat' your dinner. Um, hello? Kettle this is the pot...

World Exclusive - Baby Walks - Mom says best thing since sliced bread!

Extra Extra read all about it! Today in an occurrence so exciting, as in Mom nearly wet her pants, my little sweet potato walked! Ok well she has been taking two steps here and there, sometimes a side step or two in between the ottomans but today it was proper full on walking.  This video is her first time captured on film. After I shot video she walked from the kitchen into the living room, taking approximately 20 steps. It was really amazing. I think the key was that she wasn't paying attention to walking she was pretending to feed me, Oscar and Lulu (our two miniature dachshunds).

In other baby news: How cute are these shoes I got at Penneys? So Punky Brewster meets Rainbow Brite. These strike me as the perfect shoes to be rocking around the house in.

Sleep - is it a myth?

4.55 am. Yes you read correctly - 4.55 AM. That is the time that my sweet, darling daughter decided to wake up. I dragged myself out of bed with new purpose. I would nurse her in her own room and see could I get her back to bed. Usually waving the ol boobies around is enough to get her eyes rolling back in her head for sweet slumber. Unfortunately it was not the case this morning. No matter how long I rocked her, nursed her and rubbed her back, she just would not close those sparkling blue eyes. She even tried to put her foot in my mouth. I just can't fathom how someone so little can have so much energy. I let 'rad dad' (that's what he wants me to tell you we call him - correction what he has named himself) get up with her at 6 and take her downstairs for some 'daddy/daughter' time, while I had a nice lie in until 8. Gone are the days of my wild youth, where I partied until 4.55am. Now I gladly will go to bed at 10 if I can even keep my eyes open that late.

Questioning our perceptions about the body

Not sure how I missed this but a relative of mine Seonaid Dunne recently had an article in the Irish Times on the controversy surrounding a forum post about Blue Peter presenter Cerrie Burnell. Seonaid's article challenges people to step outside their comfort zone. Bodies come in all different colours, shapes, sizes and abilities. It is important for us to examine what is it about difference that makes us so uncomfortable. It is only through questioning our own perceptions of the body that we may understand how and why we relate to others. Difference shouldn't be something we fear, it is something that we should learn from and celebrate. 

Mini me has the mini measles

My little one had her MMR vaccination 10 days ago. Last night I noticed a rash on her torso. At first I thought maybe it was due to the one strawberry she consumed during dinner. But then I figured no it couldn't be, an allergic reaction is more like hives. Then today I inspected it again and it is all over her front and back. Does the miserable cycle of cold -runny nose-ear infection-vomit never end? I know she feels miserable and she hates getting her nose wiped. I feel terrible because I know there is nothing I can do but comfort her. But secretly I feel even worse because sometimes I get so frustrated with everything. When I started off working on my PhD I was totally convinced that I could have a baby and complete my research. I poured over  Mommy/PhD blogs, I was obsessed with the 'Do Babies Matter?' report completed by Mary Ann Mason of UC Berkeley. I work well in the face of opposition and I was determined to beat the odds. Nothing could prepare me for this. I am constantly torn between my mothering role and my research. I am so frustrated that I can't adequately balance both. To top it up after returning from my maternity leave I have totally restructured my research. This means that I have to spend more time getting myself up to speed. When mini me get the mini measles and feels miserable it makes mommy feel like she can't manage this balancing act. Why can't I just have the perfect career and the perfect family life at the same time? If we really have gender equality and the contemporary woman 'doesn't need feminism' how come there isn't a man writing a blog post about this?

Second Thoughts?

I am feeling pretty low right now. Like I have said previously I am considering weaning. In this situation the internet is either my best friend or my biggest foe. First I decided to visit my breastfeeding discussion board. Of course I love offering my opinion on anything and everything. Then I realised that I might not be able to read the discussion board after I wean. I think it might be too difficult for me to read about moms breastfeeding and loving it without being able to feed my baby. To take my mind off this I googled weaning. Well that was a big mistake. I came across a post from a mother who recently weaned a two year old. She described intense feelings of depression, anger and unexplainable sadness. I cried my eyes out when reading this. Of course this leads me to the natural conclusion that I am not ready. 

A Mother's Love

I'll admit it, yes there are times when I get incredibly frustrated with 'mothering'. I am not a natural. I am someone who really has to work at it. I think this whole experience has been a journey of ups and downs and I am learning as go. Today my little darling seemed, well, a little 'off'. She had a unusually long nap and when she awoke didn't seem hungry for the lunch she had missed. She had eaten a banana before the nap so I wasn't too worried and I figured she would let me know when it was time to fill her belly again. Alas, this was not to be. While chatting to my parents on our weekly skype session cupcake hunched over in my lap and retched her guts up into my hand. In fact she did it three times. Three times into my cupped open hands we relived that banana over and over again. Usually when I see vomit, I vomit. Call it a gut reaction. I think it has to do with the abject - that thing we find so disgusting, so foreign, we feel like we must also expel it from our bodies. To my credit, I didn't even shudder as it trickled its way down the sleeve of my sweater. I just held my little darling tight until she was finished. I guess there are times when I don't have a moment to think what 'does a good mother do'? Sometimes I just know.

Familial Connections

Family has always been the most important thing in my life. When I was growing up I spent hours upon hours analyzing everything about my family. I set about learning as much as I could about where we came from, what the realities of their lives were and trying to memorize stories I felt had relevance to pass along to future generations. I've even done the whole genealogy thing and managed to trace my maternal side back to the US during the time of the Colonies. I was fortunate to have 2 great grandparents who I have early memories of and 3 grandparents who lived into their mid to late 80s (with one still going strong). Now that I have a child I have all of this information I am simply bursting to pass on to her in the hopes that one day she will be as enthusiastic as I am about our history. 

But for now I have to content myself with watching her grow into her own little person. However this doesn't stop me from attempting to make connections with those that have gone before us. Take for example her temper. Generally she is a good natured child, very content to play with her toys and pet her dogs. Occasionally, I might do something she doesn't like, such as wash her face or wipe her nose. From nowhere this incredible hulk-like temper rears its ugly head and I think that is definitely the 'Marcelina hot-blooded Italian'. 

Yesterday when I picked her up from the creche I asked if she ate all her dinner. They emphatically said YES. I was curious as they always tell me that she is such a good eater. She is hit or miss for me. Recently I have had to cover her vegetables in my speciality cheese sauce (grated cheese, milk and a bit of flour). I asked them to explain exactly what she ate because there are times when she simply turns her nose up at her dinner. They said that she had her usual snack, lunch and afternoon sandwich and custard. But wait, they forgot about her second lunch. Second lunch? Yes, we always go around to see does anyone want another helping. Turns out my little darling always has two lunches. I chuckled to myself on the way home. Her father is definitely the hungriest person I have ever met, so no surprise there. But there is another connection I remembered, my grandfather was also a bottomless pit and extremely thrifty. When my dad was a kid the family would go to those all you can eat buffets. To get his money's worth he would advise his 4 children to avoid all carbohydrates and go straight for the meat. He also never ordered ice in a soda because he felt like it took up too much room in the cup. So in a way my daughter is channeling her great-grandfather's spirit and making sure that we get our money's worth from the creche.

Portrait of the artist as a nursing mother?

Oh great! I have just realised that if I plan on weaning I have to get back to my art making, and fast! You see, I had previously worked on a series of paintings that related to the experience of pregnancy. In August 2008 I participated in 'A Womb of One's Own' an exhibition that was part of the Le Cheile Festival in Oldcastle, Co. Meath. 

1. Artist and Daughter at exhibition (before I lost baby weight!) 2. Daughter and Aunt with erie hanging wombs.

I have always wanted to dabble in performance/video/installation (convenient since I am researching in that area right? I believe in cross fertilization - no pun intended) I definitely want to documenting the breastfeeding experience in some way. Now if I am planning to wean cupcake, we have limited time to get photographing. The trouble is I am not really sure exactly what I have in mind but I would like to do it when she is relaxed (i.e. sleepy) rather than when she is acting like the suckling acrobat.

The End of an Era

My 30th birthday will quickly be arriving at the end of the month. Hard to believe, seeing as how the other day someone guessed I couldn't be older than 19-20. Hmmm, I think not, but thanks for the compliment? We are sojourning to Krakow, home of my ancestors. I am very excited but feeling a little sad. You see cupcake will be staying behind at her Nana's house. Yes I will miss her but even more than the physical distance, this trip marks a change in the air for us. 

I am thinking about weaning. I have actually been thinking about it for the last two months. But I have never been able to make a decision. Every time I think about it I feel like I am depriving her, or myself, or both of us. But then every morning my little cupcake awakes at 5 and I indulge her in her ONE HOUR feeding frenzy which includes nursing upside down and switching rapidly from side to side like a kid in a candy store. Throw in a bit of biting (this morning she actually laughed when I gasped - oh so now mommy's pain is funny?) God help me if I try to pull my shirt down or cover myself. She beats her little palms against my chest and sometimes kicks me if Daddy tries to pull her away. I am guilty, I have done nothing to stop this behavior, nothing at all. I just cannot bring myself to get out of bed and greet the day at 5 am. I would sleep until 12 if I could.

Going to Krakow seems like the perfect opportunity to go cold turkey. I will be away for 4 morning nursing sessions and lets face it, the morning time session is going to be the hardest right? I think I am going to do it. Yes I am going to do it. Why then do I feel so sad? We have gone  13 months - wow 13 whole months and we have had our ups and downs. But I have loved every minute of it.

Psychoanalyst Melanie Klein and my breastfed baby...

Yesterday I was in the library looking up some information on memory for a paper I am writing. I picked up an edited collection of Melanie Klein's work and was struck by what I read.  In Notes on Some Schizoid Mechanisms (1946) she hypothesizes about object relations, "the first object being the mother's breast which to the child becomes split into a good (gratifying) and bad (frustrating) breast; this splitting results in a severance of love and hate."(Mitchell 1991: 176) She goes on to discuss how this relates splitting of the ego which occurs through projection and introjection. Without getting bogged down into all the psychoanalytic mumbo jumbo Klein looks at the infant's oral libido and how it has aggressive impulses and connects this back to the relationship with the breast. This caused me to remember a video that I took of my little cupcake when she was messing around with an old plastic nipple she found in a drawer. For your viewing pleasure I have added a video to illustrate. Note how she occasionally pauses to clench the nipple in her teeth. Perhaps this is what Klein was talking about? :) 

 

A Forgetful Mommy

This morning my little cupcake had a shower and I got her dress and ready to going to her nana's house. I handed her to her father who put her in her high chair. She proceeded to devour a whole banana and fistfuls of rice krispies. It would have been kind of cute if the dried rice krispies weren't sticking to her snot nose. I picked her up and realised that the seat of her pants was wet. Hmmm I thought to myself - had she dumped a spoonful of milk down there? She is notorious for squishing cheese, veggies and soft fruit in her chair. But something was different. I ran through the possibilities - no it definitely wasn't milk. Then I realised, oh god I forgot to put her diaper on. I even buttoned her little onesie and put her tights on without noticing the absent diaper. I suppose I was too fixated on her not wiping her runny nose on my shoulder. Even now I can see crusted snot on either side. Gross. I won't even tell you about the paint incident yesterday. Let's just say poison control in the US got a very frantic call that involved a baby and some parisian cream water-based paint. When did I transition from super-obsessive to super-lax?

Marcelina's Legacy

I was looking at my daughter this morning and I was thinking how much my grandmother, Marcelina would have loved her. Marcelina was born the fourth of six children to poor Italian immigrants. The early years were tough for her family, my great-grandfather John was a bootlegger in Texas during the prohibition. He would disappear for weeks at a time, leaving her mother Ida to fend for herself. My grandmother remembered one time the FBI searched the house and found his stash. They saw how poor the family was and took pity on Ita telling her next time they would came there would be consequences. The family then moved to San Francisco and then to Burlingame. My great-grandfather opened up the first bar in San Mateo County after the prohibition. He was a bit of a chancer and had some gambling problems. My grandmother had  to bring him home from a poker game one night, where earlier that night he had lost two properties in Hillsborough (now one of the richest suburbs in the Bay Area). She left school at age 15 to work in the family bar. She met my grandfather who was stationed at Fort Point during WWII. It was love at first sight and they were happily married for an amazing 61 years.

Over the years my grandmother honed and perfected her domestic skills. She was the original domestic goddess before Nigella Lawson took her first breath. She was the Martha Stewart of the 50s and 60s. She made all their clothing (adults and children) and when they wore out the clothes she made rag rugs. She was an amazing gardener and as my dad once said she could plant a stick into concrete and under her watchful eye it would turn into something amazing. She made ravioli, spio and crab cioppino like it was going out of style. But most of all she was a wonderful artist.

She specialized in landscape paintings. She and my grandfather spent their lives traveling to all 50 states. Everywhere she went she took pictures of farm houses, New England lighthouses, mountains, deserts and then would return to her studio to paint. I remember as a child, I would beg her to let me into the studio where I would touch (and taste!) the paints, run my hands over her brushes and just marvel at the colours and smells to be found there. We spent a lot of time together and I became obsessed with art. I became aware that my grandmother had real talent, but I could never understand why she didn't go to art school. I asked her one day and she dismissed it saying that she couldn't afford to, she had to leave school at a young age to work and that in those days women didn't have careers as artists. I think that was my first realization of the gender inequalities that exist in the art world. I became determined to learn more and I credit this with one of the main reasons that I decided to pursue degrees in Women's Studies and Art History.  

Before she died I had the privilege to spend 6 weeks taking full time care of my grandparents. We spent those weeks arguing, laughing, cooking and for the first time I really really got to know my grandmother. I mean beyond the familial relationship. I helped to bathe her and dress her. I was there when she unleashed her Italian temper and heated arguments ensued. Before I finished my time with them she gave me a quilt that she had started back in the 50s. It consisted of hexagonal fabric scraps that she had saved from nearly every item of clothing she ever made. She told me she wanted me to finish it and give it to my first child (I wasn't even in a relationship at the time). When I became pregnant I knew that if nothing else during the pregnancy I had to finish the quilt like I promised her. I tried to channel her spirit to guide me. I am fairly crafty (I like to pretend I am) but I never have the patience to see a project through (my achilles heel). I began by embroidering on four rectangular pieces of fabric. Each block came to symbolise something about personal. One features two dachshunds to represent our dogs, Oscar and Lulu. On another I embroidered dancing fruits and veggies (we love food in this family!). The third featured a redwood tree and banana slug to represent California and the fourth featured the words handmade for you by mother. Next I had to shape my grandmother's quilt. It was a 'free form' and I was in a quandary about how to proceed. I decided the easiest way was to make several rectangles that I could then attach to the blocks to form a giant rectangle. I finished the quilt with only a few weeks to go, relieved that I had made good on my promise to her.

When my grandmother died in 2003, I was devastated. I don't think I can accurately describe all that she was to me. By finishing the quilt I had a piece of her that I could pass along to my daughter. So now she has that quilt and Marcelina as her middle name.

Art is the life for me

So last night I attended the much anticipated opening of the James Coleman exhibition taking place at IMMA, RHA and Project Arts Centre. Coleman is arguably one of the most exciting Irish artists to date! His work has been lauded by major critics and art historians everywhere and he definitely has made his way into the canon. There are six of his works currently on exhibition around the city. This is the first large scale exhibition of his work since the early 1980s. Which brings me to the enigma. You see Coleman is a big time artist. So why then isn't his work well known in Ireland? An artist I was speaking to last night said that Coleman was a huge influence on his work. This guy was nearly giddy because he got to meet Coleman. Another strange thing is that Coleman the person isn't well known. I only say this is strange because in the age of art stars like Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin, sometimes artists become almost more important than their work. Or maybe what I mean is that today we are so obsessed with celebrity that it seems strange that there are no pictures of Coleman! Perhaps this is because he really wants the work to speak for itself. And ultimately, his work is about the spectator and the role that one's subjective plays in creating meaning in the work. So perhaps it seems fitting that Coleman the artist prefers to observe rather than be observed.

I was at the lecture given by Luke Gibbons and attended the wine reception. (Glug glug). I got to meet Alanna O'Kelly, a performance/multi media artist. Her work is simply amazing, I am a huge fan. It was really cool to see how approachable and down to earth she is. And finally, yes, finally I was able to recapture my powers of speech and analytical thinking that have gone to the birds since having my little bundle of joy. (Mommies out there will know I mean the dreaded baby brain). Being able to discuss her work with her in a coherent manner was awesome. I also sat next to NI artist Victor Sloan. I couldn't place the name at first, although I had heard of him. When I got home I trolled through some of my books and catalogues. Yep sure enough there he was. His early work deals with images of the troubles and some of them are very haunting. What a great guy he was. We had an excellent conversation and I think he has earned himself a new follower!

Spring is in the Air

Well it is that time of year again. I am feeling inspired to plant. Every year I take a stab at planting my vegetable garden in the back. I don't have a huge back garden but I have been able to successfully grow a variety of fruit and veg, that is as long as the dogs/snails don't get to them first. Last year I had the best intentions and even went so far as to organise my seeds and a tentative planting schedule. But pregnancy, birth and recovery from a c-section got in the way and before I was really ready to get outside and enjoy the sun I didn't make any effort whatsoever. For a couple years now I have had a pretty well established red currant bush, a pear tree and of course the ever present herb garden - mainly consisting of the 'easy' ones - chives, mint, rosemary, parsley, lemon verbena (or lemon balm? I can never remember which one) and thyme. I tend to grow basil on the kitchen windowsill as there isn't great sun in the garden. I also grew coriander a couple years back but I haven't been as devoted to it. In 2007 I branched out, growing salad leaves (so easy and so tasty from the garden), purple sprouting broccoli (39 weeks from seed to harvest - husband ripped them up at 14 weeks thinking they were weeds...) rocket, baby carrots and in our makeshift 'greenhouse' tomatoes and peppers. The tomatoes and peppers were coming along nicely until I went on holidays and then apparently there was a 2 week hot spell. Even though they were being watered with the green house 'door' closed they withered.

I've decided that this year I want to spent a lot of time outside con mi hija and that playing in the dirt with her will be fun. I have always made the effort to grow organically, it is really important to me. I am a big tree hugger at heart and really feel strongly about the environment and preserving it for our future generations. I find organic so expensive here in Ireland, so I am constantly going from Tesco to Dunnes to Superquinn to the Farmers Market in an effort to find the best prices. I have spent the last year making all organic baby food for the little one and it is nice that she is eating more in line with the meals that I am preparing for the adults. I am thinking about trying out some of those potato tubs I saw at Atlantic two weeks ago. I am definitely going ahead with the potatoes, I mean they are like a national institution right? I can't ever be Irish until I grow potatoes right? On a side note someone once told me I could never been considered a Dublin woman until I made a good coddle. Hmmm a big pot of boiled salty meat? Think I'll stay a California girl.

P.S. the picture is not recent. This is what the garden looked like when we first put the sleepers in Fall 2007!

The Courage Campaign vs Prop 8

At the moment, far away in my home state of California a battle for equality rages on. Last November Proposition 8 was passed by the California electorate (Not in my home region of SF though... Represent!) It invalidated thousands of same sex marriages. Today the Supreme Court heard the final closing arguments to overturn Prop "Hate" and restore equality to all of California's citizens. Gays and Lesbians should not be treated as second class citizens, they have the same right to freedom that heterosexuals enjoy. 

Check out this link. This seriously breaks my heart watching this. Why doesn't everyone deserve the same happiness?

http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/divorce