Nemesis

There are days I wonder why I ever wanted to have kids. Now that one of our girls is a teenager, those days are more frequent. Yes, we have a teenage daughter. Did I hear a sigh of sympathy? Thanks. I needed that.

I don’t know what’s worse… having an only child that whines and begs for a sibling, or having a child who has received the long-awaited sibling and then regrets their request. Because once the new baby has grown old enough to get into her stuff … copy her… and show signs of being smarter than her… all bets of sisterly love are off.

People ask us all the time why we waited six years to have another child. Simple answer: just meet the first kid. Intense. Dramatic. Spirited. And that's on a good day. So we waited, and prayed, and when we thought we could handle another child (hoping that the new one would be... well, less like the first) decided to give the first one her wish of a sibling. She got her wish, and so did we. Different kids, as unique as the fingerprints on their sticky little hands. Now, different works well for some things, like tastes in style and food. It's nice to have a little variety. But when it comes to personality differences in siblings ... not so much. My two girls often clash like rams, locked head to head in mortal combat.

I spend a lot of time prying the two stubborn sisters apart, hearing both sides of the story, counseling and consoling, yet making little headway. Time lost defusing the endless enmity of everyday life.

Individually, both are bright, beautiful and loving. Each girl has her own wonderfully unique talents, temperament and eccentricities. And of course we adore both our girls. But to each other, they are as opposite as they could be. Diametrically opposed. Sister against sister. If they ever formed a singing group, they would be Nemesis.

Sibling rivalry is nothing new under the sun. I know this. But dealing with it is one of the most difficult things you ever have to do as a parent. It’s a never ending struggle, and if you favor one child over the other, you won’t hear the end of it. If you show equality to both (or all, depending on your household) you also can’t win … because children are self-centered creatures. They are a world unto themselves, revolving around their own bright little stars.

So when my girls go at it and the usual threats don’t work, I head for my parenting manuals. In these kinds of situations, the bigger books are better, because they make more of an impact when you chuck them at the kids. Paperbacks are okay, but if you really want to get your kids to stop arguing, hard-cover books are best for the kind of impression you need to break up a fight. Then I enjoy the 180 in attitude as their anger is diverted off of each other. Mission accomplished on two fronts: the fighting is over, and the two are back on one side - them against me. Let them sulk, I care not. I just want peace and quiet.

There are times when the two get along … brief, shining moments when they play and sing and work together famously. When they put their lovely little heads together in peace and not in battle. Times like those… well, of course I like to take all the credit for that as a parent (since it’s not in their nature to get along!) and I wish it could be like that always. Because as they grow older, they will need each other, need those qualities that the other has, that they aren’t as strong in. Need the bond of sisterhood, the connection of family. Life is unpredictable. If you spend your time on earth in angst and anger, there is much to regret later.

So I’ll keep on encouraging my girls to get along. I know they will catch on sooner or later. And when it does happen - and it will - it will be a sweet thing to see.

“Where did THAT come from?”

We are dog owners. Zoe, 8 years old, is a female Cocker Spaniel/Poodle mix. Izzy, almost 3, is a male Pekinese/Cocker Spaniel. This time of year their coats are growing out, so Zoe (who is white and has curly fur) looks like a sheep; Izzy (who has silky jet-black fur) looks like a shaggy little bear. And these two are about as much trouble as you can get in a pair of mismatched dogs.

Zoe woke me today at three a.m. … the dreaded ‘need to go out’ hour of the night. I followed her wearily downstairs, and Izzy, my shadow dog, followed me. The second (after) I let Zoe out, I noticed a steaming pile of cockapoo-poo on the pile carpet.  Fabulous. She tells me she needs to go out ‘after’ she goes? Such is my life.

No, we don’t have the best trained dogs in the world. Sweet, yes. Loyal, absolutely. But not good when it comes to use of the ‘outdoor’ toilet. Nope: my dogs are both masters of carpet chaos. They would much rather unload inside than face the elements outside.

Now that we have two dogs, we have much the same issues as we have with our two girls. The dreaded ‘whodunit.’ (“Who broke the lamp?” “Not me!” “Not me!” Sigh.) Both dogs will gladly hover by my side, looking at whatever current evidence is soaking into the shag, with the expression, “Where did THAT come from?” With two dogs, it is nigh impossible (short of DNA testing on the sample) to know for a fact which of them done the deed. In fact, Zoe - older and wiser in these things. will often look at Izzy with a doggish smirk, because she knows that he will act guilty… even when he’s not.

Izzy is a rescue dog, and for a long time, if he was upset, or frightened, he would turn around and smell his own butt. It was always a sure sign that he was the guilty party. But he is older and more secure now, and will stand blithely by without blinking. So it’s a lot tougher to tell who left the package, when neither is talking.

Now, when one dog feels the need to get a little fresh air at three in the morning, the other has to get their turn as well. And if it’s raining outside, guaranteed they will be coated with mud when they come back in. So I have a squeaky cocka leaky peki and a muddle puddle poodle battle to clean after their night-time romp. More fun and games for mama, who of course is the only one awake. More fun for me.

These things always seem to happen in the middle of the night. My kids routinely take off the dogs’ collars at night to give them some good scratching time, and it’s always those nights that the dogs will come collar-less and want to go out. As those collars could be anywhere, and I’m already downstairs, I have to struggle to get each dog in a walking harness to put them on their retractable leads. This is not an easy task in the daytime. At night, bleary-eyed without my glasses, it is a challenge. But once the dogs are out, I can commence with the carpet clean-up.

Now, if you are a parent, I’m sure you’ve endured the sole-shredding toys of toddler turmoil. There’s nothing quite like stepping bare-footed on razor-sharp Barbie shoes and Legos. Well, we’ve been through tootsie torture with our girls and their toys, and now we have it again with the dogs and their dry food. How dog food pellets can be both sharp and slimy at the same time, I don’t know. Kibble shrapnel, exploding underfoot like wet little bombs. I guess it all adds to the ambiance of our home, and adds color to our carpets.

But for all the trouble, I still wouldn’t give those two up for the world. Even as I type, Zoe is ensconced by my legs in the warm nook under the computer desk. And Izzy is right beside me, curled up in a bean bag chair and snoring softly, a de-fluffed bear nestled between his paws. Yeah, being a dog owner is a lot of work. But you know what? They’re worth it.

   

     

Minestrone Memories

My husband grew up in a big Italian family. To this day I can't go anywhere where I have to use my last name, without someone saying, "Oh! Are you related to ...?"  Yeah, probably. Have no clue. I was super excited getting 'in' with an Italian family because I'm a foodie, and naturally assumed I'd be busting at the seams after every visit. I couldn't have been more wrong.


Nick's family is third and fourth and fifth generation Italian. And if there were any cooking genes in that family... they've long since been watered down. Much like their soup. I cannot tell you the profound disappointment I've had with meals from his family. It's so bad that when you visit for dinner, you need to eat before you go... then feign stomach cramps and wait it out on the couch, moaning softly, until dinner is over. Yeah, it's that bad.


So when Nick's mom helpfully wanted to teach me to cook while we were dating ... I took her advice with a grain of salt. Then added a few grains of my own. And some pepper. And some texture, and flavor, and visual appeal. So, with many fond memories of developing my own Italian recipes, here is my minestrone soup.  Buon apetito!

Minestrone Soup                                              

1 1/2 lb. ground beef

1 large onion, diced

3 large potatoes, peeled and cubed

4 carrots, peeled and sliced

4 stalks celery, sliced

1 zucchini, peeled and cubed

6 cups beef stock (preferably made from a good base)

1 can (28 oz.) crushed tomatoes or tomato puree
1 can (15.5 oz.) light kidney beans, drained and rinsed

1 can (15.5 oz.) dark kidney beans, drained and rinsed
olive oil

2 cups ditalini (or your favorite soup pasta)

Parmesan cheese

Make the stock according to package directions. Add can of crushed tomatoes. Bring to a simmer. Add salt and a generous amount of pepper. If you wish to add some bay leaves or other dried Italian seasonings like parsley, basil, and oregano, about one tablespoon each will do. Put each tablespoon in your hands and rub back and forth for a few seconds to refresh the dried herb, then add to the stock.

Brown ground beef in sauté pan on medium about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Drain and add to stockpot. In the same sauté pan on medium heat, add about 3-4 tablespoons olive oil. Add diced onion; sauté 3 minutes. Add carrots, celery, potatoes and zucchini. Season with salt and pepper and sauté an additional 5 minutes. Add sautéed vegetables to stockpot. Drain and rinse both cans of kidney beans,  and add those to the stockpot. Taste and correct for seasonings, as needed. Keep soup at a light simmer.

A slightly different version of the above recipe.
I used shank beef instead of ground beef,
cranberry beans instead of kidney,
and added some escarole
right at the end.

While the soup is cooking, bring another pot of water to boil. Add about a tablespoon of salt. When it has come to a boil, add ditalini (or other soup pasta) and cook according to package directions. Drain, and put back in that pot off the heat. Keep covered.

Ladle soup into bowls and add a scoop of ditalini. Top with grated Parmesan cheese.  Serve with a nice crusty loaf of Italian bread.

  

Serves 6.