Monthly Archives: September 2013

It’s not whether you win or lose…well, actually it is!

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My youngest daughter inherited my thick hair gene, which is both good and bad. It is so thick, laden with knots most days and when we were in the South, the child had dreadlocks. She’s quite fastidious about her hair. We go through conditioner like wine in this house and unfortunately some days there’s just not enough of either. So, I offer to help her brush her hair. Again. And again. And again. This is an almost daily FUN event that usually ends up with her in tears and me putting another dollar in the curse jar. She metamorphosizes into a growling wildcat.  This last time was enough. “I’m cutting your hair. Like it or not.” My little angel looked at me with those piercing blue eyes and that mass of entangled blonde hair. She then contorted her mouth. Then….did The Headroll.  “Well YOU don’t brush YOUR hair.” (Clearly she’s been sneaking in episodes of Honey Boo Boo again). She has a point.

“True. But I CREATED you. When YOU get to be a mommy, YOU can decide whether you want to brush your hair.  For now, you’re eight. Scissors or brush?”

Mommy         1

Little Angel    0

This is why we pick our battles: so that we’ll win. We have to assert our power in the right places so it looks like we know what we’re doing; that we planned this whole parent thing precisely and are ready for anything. (As Long as WE’VE HAD SOME SLEEP). They’re quite savvy with their premeditated bag of parental tricks. They gather them in the womb and hone them to precision the older and taller they get. Their timing is impeccable. Sometimes, no amount of books, Internet mommies, or conversations over Venti non-fat lattes can prepare us for some of the doozies that come our way.

40 yrsWe, as parents, share that secret handshake, and that tired, proud, confused, “I get it ’cause I’ve been there” look. We catch each other’s eyes in the grocery store when our children are like goats pulling items off the shelves or in a quiet restaurant when they choose to pull each other’s hair out over their toes accidentally touching under the table. Or, “that look” from friends who have teenagers that says simply “just you wait. It’s going to be rough.” Armed with our Google degree on Proud Parenting 101, age, and experience of, well, having been a child, we’re still all on a wing and a Hail Mary!

We want our offspring to be clean and neat, eat healthy, go to bed at a normal time, do their normalhomework, clean up, brush their teeth so they don’t rot out, love their friends, love each other, be respectful to everybody, be honest, be safe, work hard, and most of all love us! As romantic as this Hallmark moment is, it’s not reality. Knock just a couple off the list and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. We have to cut ourselves some slack and do our Girl Scout best to have a sense of humor. (And keep them away from Honey Boo Boo). The good always outweighs the bad. Just the other night I went to Back to School night and I read a story in my eight year old’s class about who her hero was. It was me.

Little Angel  1

Mommy     🙂

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I’ll leave you with a few morsels of insight.

*Love them.

*Laugh with them.

*As mad as you get, there’s a good chance they’re copying you.

*Get a curse jar not so much to remind you of your poor (but effective) word choice but to get a jump on your child’s college fund.

*May be cliche, but this too shall pass

*Last, it’s a good thing they’re cute.

So, light a candle and take a deep breath. Enjoy this rich full bodied Cabernet once your precious angels have gone to bed. We’re all clicking our glasses in unison.

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

Rich aromas of cherry, black currants, and toasted oak

with generous flavors of cherry, plum, cocoa and a touch of vanilla

$27

One kid’s a hobby. Two’s the real deal.”  My friend’s husband

Grits and the Art of Persuasion

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I was stirring a giant pot of pasta, and my ten year old told me emphatically that she is “done with pasta.” She’s “had it entirely too much and never EVER wants to eat it again in her entire life!” That’s a pretty big statement to swallow considering she’s the ripe old age of ten and letting go of pasta is like letting go of the color pink. I stared at her as I typically do when either one of the little angels stun me as they’ve been known to do on occasion. (Sometimes I think it would be easier splitting atoms than to decide what to make for dinner. Let alone, switch gears once the dinner idea is already in progress).

She abruptly opens the refrigerator and we both stare blankly, me still with my wooden stirring spoon in hand as if it was a magic wand. My culinary choices were limited, as I’ve resisted the urge to become a slave to the grocery store. I’ve attempted to end the symbiotic relationship. I want food to magically appear.

She states the obvious,  “There’s nothing in there!”

“Schnookums, you’re wrong.” I explain. “There’s a jar of pickles, make that two, some ketchup. Oooh, There’s Mystery Tupperware container! Shall we see what’s in it?”

“Grits! I want grits for dinner!” She exclaims and grabs a box out of the refrigerator door and holds it like a trophy.

Note to self: that’s TWO pots of boiling water. Hmmmm. Cooking has been thrown to the bottom rung of the priority ladder this summer.

Grits is one of those things you’ll always find in my fridge: A big box of Quaker Quick Grits (the 20 minute kind). For some, it’s a tub of sour cream that stakes its territory way in the back. For others, it may be a jar of grape jelly or a half dozen eggs that you just can’t part with even though you have no clue how many months they’ve been in there. You know who you are. For me, it’s a box of grits.

grits

Southern Happy Meal

I think it’s funny (not funny haha) when people ask, “aren’t grits like oatmeal?” Or, “don’t grits taste like cream-of-wheat?” Do oranges taste like bananas? Is NASCAR the same as Formula One? Is the Atlantic the same as the Pacific? Does red wine taste like white wine, people? For the love of GROUND UP CORN, the answer: a resounding NO!

Grits are ground up corn, ‘coarse-ground cornmeal’, plain and simple. (I won’t get into the hominy thing. I’ll keep it reeeeeal simple). They’ve been around for 400 years! Three-fourths of all grits sold in the US are sold in the South stretching from Texas to Virginia. Their warmth and creamy texture are a hug in your tummy-just bowls full of piping hot goodness!

If you’ve not been lucky enough to grow up in the South, I’ll gladly part with some insight, boil it down for you. First, there are two kinds of grits:

1: The ‘instant’ grits which no good Southerner would evah evah cook (or admit to)

2: The boil-in-water-for-twenty-minutes kind. And they come in two shades: white and yellow! According to grits history, white corn was popular in the port cities in the south, while yellow corn was popular in the urban cities.

Here is the simple grits recipe anyone can follow (bless your little non- Southern hearts):

*One cup of grits to five cups of water*

Bring water to a boil, then pour grits in while stirring. Add a pinch or two of salt. Lower the heat and simmer, all the while stirring to prevent clumping. You do NOT want clumpy grits.  After twenty minutes, voila! Now,  throw in butter or cheese, add some country ham, sausage, or red-eye gravy and dare I say…piping hot buttermilk biscuits, (cue gospel choir). There’s just not a better meal, breakfast or suppah! And they’re healthy too! (above additives notwithstanding). No fat, no cholesterol!

(Fun fact: you do not use the term ‘grit’ when referring to this folate fantasy food. It’s always plural! How can we forget ‘My Cousin Vinny’)?

So, Of COURSE she can have her grits! I have indeed raised a Southern child and it warms my heart almost as much as a bowl of grits themselves. After all, how can I possibly say no to her or grits?

 Tammy 

Get Real In The South

Try ’em. You just may like ’em. Would I stir, uhm, steer you wrong?

For some delicious Grits recipes, give this a try:

www.southernliving.com/…/grits–recipes-…

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Vinny Gambini: How could it take you five minutes to cook your grits when it takes the entire grit-eating world 20 minutes?
Mr. Tipton: Um… I’m a fast cook, I guess.
Vinny Gambini: [across beside the jury] What? I’m sorry I was over there. Did you just say you were a fast cook? Are we to believe that boiling water soaks into a grit faster in your kitchen than any place on the face of the earth?
Mr. Tipton: I don’t know.
Vinny Gambini: Perhaps the laws of physics cease to exist on your stove. Were these magic grits? Did you buy them from the same guy who sold Jack his beanstalk beans?

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Gruet Brut is a crisp, full-bodied, sparkling wine that has light green apple and grape flavors.  Goes perfectly with shrimp-n-grits for a lovely brunch.

Cost: $15.00

Gruet