I got married straight out of my parents' home so I never lived alone. Never "kept house," never cooked or cleaned or felt responsible for the running of a home. In Argentina, my mother had a housekeeper who had been with our family forever. My Dad loved to cook and both he and my mother took turns in introducing us to wonderful food. There was no "I don't like this" before trying! No special meals made for you if you didn't like what was on the menu that night either! I learned everything that I now know about food from them. The joy of a perfectly heavenly piece of fried fish. The soundness (for lack of a better word) of a delicious "Puchero" Argentina's version of Pot of Feu...boiled dinner. Lots of veggies and a slab of bacon and garbanzo beans, a chunk of Caracu (bone marrow) and beef or chicken and sometimes both thrown in the pot.I ate my first Escargot at 5 and liked it. Nobody made mashed potatoes like my mom.
My father would dress up a simple beef cutlet or Milanesa with foie gras one day and another with anchovies and peppers. A perfectly baked chicken was a weekly routine and of course our Sunday asado which is the typical Argentine barbecue with sweetbreads and sausages and the best possible beef in the world. Sundays when we would all await in eager anticipation almost fainting from the aroma coming from the parrilla. I remember lying on the grass with my dog both of us salivating and waiting to be called to have our late lunch. After lunch...a bit of "sobremesa" which is just sitting around chatting. Soon enough, each one of us would drop into bed for an afternoon siesta. I remember the sounds in the house and in the garden on those lazy summer days. The birds chirping on the trees. An occasional bark from one of our dogs.
The only thing I ever made in those days was a cake called "Delicia"...pretty much a simple enough way to let a young girl experiment in the kitchen without much fuss. One of the most famous cooks in Argentina called Dona Petrona provided that recipe in her book. She was probably one of the first chefs to become a celebrity and have her own TV show in Buenos Aires (maybe the world?) and boss her assistant Maria around. Poor Maria did all the work...chopping, steaming, boiling, baking and acted as her gopher or sous chef! I don't remember seeing Maria's face, but I could see her shuffling stuff in the background and Petrona, an imposing presence took front and center stage.
So there I was, newly married and totally ignorant as to the mysteries of the kitchen and the rest of a house. I didn't even know how to make a proper bed! I still don't know how to wash clothes as my children will gleefully tell you. When they went off to college they knew they were on their own on that one!
Little by little and with the love and support of my husband, I learned what I needed to learn. After messing up a simple roast beef and on the verge of tears and feeling totally incompetent he simply told me that he was not interested in my homemaking abilities. He married me not Dona Petrona! The most important thing that I learned from him was to value and practice my independence. He trusted me to do well in whatever I undertook. He gave me space, time and enormous amounts of love and encouragement in everything I did. And I did these things in so many cities, in so many "new" homes and countries! Homemaking for me was building a new home from scratch every time we moved. And we moved a lot. Without knowing, Esteban taught me how to live without him.
And for the last 16 years of my life, I have lived alone. At first it was a little scary to think of all the responsibilities landing straight on my lap. Nobody to really ask. No shared decisions. No "this is your job, this is mine" type of thing. It was all mine. And in a hurry I had to learn how to do it all, including the tedious part, you know, the finances and the bills and the daily routines, and selling and buying homes and cars and being a strong presence in my kids' lives for both of us and most importantly, the loss of him. I think I should be awarded a PhD for all of this. I think I've done well.
And like he would have expected, I thrived. I have done more things that I ever expected to do and learned the ultimate lesson: how to live without him. Not alone but rather on my own.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Abu on Parenting
This Mothers Day made me think again on what a broad spectrum of skills it takes to do the job of mothering - more than any other really. So much multitasking. A job for life. There is no "statute of limitations" nor deadline when one can clock out. No turning away and looking the other way! No giving up. Never.
And it's a tough job. It's a judged job where the judges are people who parent differently, who question our "philosophy" our "methods" and "techniques" and who force us to doubt ourselves...even judge ourselves. As if only some special people know what our babies need. We're encouraged to breastfeed our little ones and then we're criticized about feeding in public (as if babies were polite enough to wait till they get home) or on how long we're supposed to continue. They, these critics, sit behind their computers and make statements about how inappropriate it is to nurse past a year. As if it pained them. They're offended by naked breastfeeding breasts but find nothing wrong with Kim Kardashian's exposed mammaries. As if breasts are supposed to be exposed in lace on billboards and ads but not in front of a baby's face. As if it were wrong somehow to give our babies what they need. Whatever kind of parenting these "experts" did themselves is what they are in one way or another justifying. If they did not breastfeed, they will say that "millions of babies are brought up on formula and thrived." If they felt that babies are "spoilt" by holding them and tending to their needs,attachment parenting will go out the window. And so it goes. Books and magazines tell us how to do it. The media criticizes us because we do it. Everybody seems entitled to give us advice from pregnancy till the kid is out of the house. And guess what! Nobody's asking the baby!
In this computer crazed world we live in, the judgement comes quick and in an avalanche. While there's never been more information at our fingertips, it's really up to us to carefully discern where this information is coming from and how it was obtained. Research papers funded by pharmaceutical companies try to push their agenda while everyone spits out statistics on this or that. And there we are, with our little baby, maybe living far from parents and friends, trying to make sense of what all the experts are telling us. And yes, we were not born "knowing" so we need these bits of info to help us in our work. And the work is constant. It's physical at first and then it's joined and intertwined with the emotional, with the spiritual. It's exhausting and of course exhilarating.
When I had my kids, I too was living very far from my family and there was no internet but there was Dr. Spock! Instead of the computer, it was his book that kept me company when I was trying to figure out what I could do for the million and one things that were new to me then. He always gave common sense advice and not too much of it. He gave me the basics and then left me to do the job. I so appreciated him. The index in his book is probably the best I've ever seen. Everything that I needed to know was in that book and easily accessible. Google is no competition to the speed in which you could find exactly what you needed! Dr. Brazelton wasn't too shabby either!
As parents we do the best we can with what we've got. If we can surround ourselves with other parents doing the same job at the same time, we can help each other without judgement and with kindness and compassion. Cause we've all had the worries and the anxiety and we all want to do a good job. We don't all have to think alike and some of these folks will enlighten us with a different way to approach a particular problem that we may not have thought of and yes, we too can provide comfort, support and our own little tricks. There is much to learn in a moms' group. Things you admire in others as well as some you prefer to steer clear of and that can be from birthing to feeding to discipline to whatever. The important thing is to let everyone do what their gut tells them to do and to encourage that in each other. We're all going to try different things and some will work and others not so much. And its OK. That is what parents do.
Loving and respecting our little babies, these little versions of ourselves, is the most important thing to do. Listening and parenting like we live. With intention and love. Turn off the computer and look at your baby. That will be my only and most important bit of advice.
And it's a tough job. It's a judged job where the judges are people who parent differently, who question our "philosophy" our "methods" and "techniques" and who force us to doubt ourselves...even judge ourselves. As if only some special people know what our babies need. We're encouraged to breastfeed our little ones and then we're criticized about feeding in public (as if babies were polite enough to wait till they get home) or on how long we're supposed to continue. They, these critics, sit behind their computers and make statements about how inappropriate it is to nurse past a year. As if it pained them. They're offended by naked breastfeeding breasts but find nothing wrong with Kim Kardashian's exposed mammaries. As if breasts are supposed to be exposed in lace on billboards and ads but not in front of a baby's face. As if it were wrong somehow to give our babies what they need. Whatever kind of parenting these "experts" did themselves is what they are in one way or another justifying. If they did not breastfeed, they will say that "millions of babies are brought up on formula and thrived." If they felt that babies are "spoilt" by holding them and tending to their needs,attachment parenting will go out the window. And so it goes. Books and magazines tell us how to do it. The media criticizes us because we do it. Everybody seems entitled to give us advice from pregnancy till the kid is out of the house. And guess what! Nobody's asking the baby!
In this computer crazed world we live in, the judgement comes quick and in an avalanche. While there's never been more information at our fingertips, it's really up to us to carefully discern where this information is coming from and how it was obtained. Research papers funded by pharmaceutical companies try to push their agenda while everyone spits out statistics on this or that. And there we are, with our little baby, maybe living far from parents and friends, trying to make sense of what all the experts are telling us. And yes, we were not born "knowing" so we need these bits of info to help us in our work. And the work is constant. It's physical at first and then it's joined and intertwined with the emotional, with the spiritual. It's exhausting and of course exhilarating.
When I had my kids, I too was living very far from my family and there was no internet but there was Dr. Spock! Instead of the computer, it was his book that kept me company when I was trying to figure out what I could do for the million and one things that were new to me then. He always gave common sense advice and not too much of it. He gave me the basics and then left me to do the job. I so appreciated him. The index in his book is probably the best I've ever seen. Everything that I needed to know was in that book and easily accessible. Google is no competition to the speed in which you could find exactly what you needed! Dr. Brazelton wasn't too shabby either!
As parents we do the best we can with what we've got. If we can surround ourselves with other parents doing the same job at the same time, we can help each other without judgement and with kindness and compassion. Cause we've all had the worries and the anxiety and we all want to do a good job. We don't all have to think alike and some of these folks will enlighten us with a different way to approach a particular problem that we may not have thought of and yes, we too can provide comfort, support and our own little tricks. There is much to learn in a moms' group. Things you admire in others as well as some you prefer to steer clear of and that can be from birthing to feeding to discipline to whatever. The important thing is to let everyone do what their gut tells them to do and to encourage that in each other. We're all going to try different things and some will work and others not so much. And its OK. That is what parents do.
Loving and respecting our little babies, these little versions of ourselves, is the most important thing to do. Listening and parenting like we live. With intention and love. Turn off the computer and look at your baby. That will be my only and most important bit of advice.
Monday, May 7, 2012
My space in the world
Before I walk into my studio, I leave all my anxieties, worries, restlessness behind. I read and acknowledge the sign that I've posted at the entrance for the people that I invite to visit: "Welcome! Please take responsibility for the energy that you bring into my studio and my home. I take a deep breath and enter.
In that room, which to me is magical, I look around and see my life held within its walls. The childbirth books that I've read and shared with so many women. My many cookbooks, all the women's health and spirituality related texts. The art books. The corner dedicated to dyeing. Photos of my grandchildren. I open the door and let the breeze join the ceiling fan in making my dyed cloth float and fly gently in the breeze. My latest painting or drawing, or both, await. The smell of yesterday's incense is still there. My jewelry making corner is a mess. And its ok. I don't have to cover anything or make untidiness disappear. My brushes are drying in the sink. My music is ready to be turned on. Life it good.
I seem to gravitate to painting women. I don't draw well at all but these women seem to come out of my brush and we start our relationship right then and there.
There's "La Mejicana" made after a trip to visit friends in Mexico.
Sometimes I use acrylics, sometimes I draw and decide that the drawing needs to be painted. I keep many mixed media journals. Then I turn my attention to my witchy boiling pots and start dyeing!
The room opens up and becomes a patio where I dry the cloth that I've dyed
Here is "La Argentina." Natalia took one look at her and named her!
Hopefully when my grandchildren get a little older, they'll join me in my little sanctuary and paint with me, or draw or just hang out and string beads.
In that room, which to me is magical, I look around and see my life held within its walls. The childbirth books that I've read and shared with so many women. My many cookbooks, all the women's health and spirituality related texts. The art books. The corner dedicated to dyeing. Photos of my grandchildren. I open the door and let the breeze join the ceiling fan in making my dyed cloth float and fly gently in the breeze. My latest painting or drawing, or both, await. The smell of yesterday's incense is still there. My jewelry making corner is a mess. And its ok. I don't have to cover anything or make untidiness disappear. My brushes are drying in the sink. My music is ready to be turned on. Life it good.
I seem to gravitate to painting women. I don't draw well at all but these women seem to come out of my brush and we start our relationship right then and there.
There's "La Mejicana" made after a trip to visit friends in Mexico.
Sometimes I use acrylics, sometimes I draw and decide that the drawing needs to be painted. I keep many mixed media journals. Then I turn my attention to my witchy boiling pots and start dyeing!
The room opens up and becomes a patio where I dry the cloth that I've dyed
Here is "La Argentina." Natalia took one look at her and named her!
Hopefully when my grandchildren get a little older, they'll join me in my little sanctuary and paint with me, or draw or just hang out and string beads.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Notes (and a little advice) From a High Tech Abuelita
I seem to have become an “I” person…you know…IPhone, IPad, IPod, MacPro and all. I read on a Kindle and that’s because at my age, the non-glare aspect is crucial. It works well at the beach.
My son accuses “Mother, you have entirely too much technology!” I adapt every one of my gadgets to my life and give them the place they deserve. I walk my dog with my orange little IPod that matches my car and I listen to music and use the pedometer to make the daily obligation count for something other than exercising the pooch. Multi tasking is healthy sometimes.
I enjoy Facebook and finding out what my friends are up to. I adore my IPhone and have a million pictures on IPhoto. YouTube entertains me ad nauseum. Living Social offers me great deals. The Skimm amuses me, "the Huff" often annoys me. I travel with my IPad AND my computer which has become part of my daily life and quite frankly, I have trouble leaving either behind. I buy my theater and movie tickets and do my banking online. I have a GPS in my car and an Apple TV in my den. I hardly use my digital camera in favor of the IPhone camera, which is more convenient, and for my purposes, excellent. I Skype with my children and have managed to maintain a loving and close relationship with my children’s children (as far away as Singapore) with this mode of communication.
Before I became fond of I-products, I had a long history with computers, starting with my dear Commodore 64, which taught me everything I needed to know in preparation for the bigger and better things to come. I was involved in getting a computer lab into my children's school against opposition of some peers who did not think it was necessary, and insuring that every classroom had a computer and a trained teacher to use them and help the kids. I'm often amused when young computer whizzes on the radio or TV put down their parents or older folks as computer illiterates. How did they get so smart?
I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of my beloved Commodore 64 until I moved from New York to Miami a few years ago. Thought I might have to donate it to some computer museum. I remember the first time I used Windows! I also remember my daughter teaching me how to email her when she went to college and how to use the Internet.
Google helps my memory when it falters and I need to look up something that I know but can’t quite place. Smitten Kitchen, Food 52 and Epicurious offer me great new recipes to try. My computer keeps me company, especially on those nights when sleep eludes me. There she is, ready to serve, inspire and help the hours go by. “A Pinterest perhaps?” she suggests.
The most important thing that I have learned being part of this computer age is that all the technology in the world cannot and will not replace a phone call when I, or the person I’m calling needs it or is delighted by it. No apps for human contact. No apps can replace a wonderful movie in a theater or a play or a real delicious hug from a friend, a child, a grandchild. No app gives me a welcome like my two dogs and two cats. And lets not even go to the texting “thing!” I thought it was wonderful when we finally got rid of telegrams. To think that they have now been replaced by cold, short, unpleasant half-words that people use to excuse their lack of time, of care, of simple good manners and style of writing and speech.
We must espouse new technology readily. It keeps us current. It keeps us in the loop but in the process; let us not forget good manners and those come in the shape of eating in a restaurant and leaving our phones at home or in the car. Of not holding our phones in our hands as if we were all neurosurgeons waiting for an emergency call from the hospital when we’re in a social situation. Of being able to ignore that call or text until we are alone and not offending anyone and certainly not while driving.
No technology can replace that cafecito at our favorite Cuban coffee shop. A nice lunch with a friend. A call to remind someone you care. Nothing is as thrilling as a postcard from a friend in a faraway place who happened to think about you and put a stamp on it and mailed it to your real home address. A thank you or "am thinking about you" handwritten note. No email can replace that moment of hearing your dear friend’s voice on the phone when you’re feeling down. Apps don’t convey emotion. Texting cannot (unless you’re 13) let you encompass how you feel when you’re depressed. You need real-time-face-time with someone who can listen. Apps don’t hug.
So my advice to myself and to you is, be selective with your technology and use it to enhance your life. Use your voice, your handwriting and your dialing skills to do the real thing. You’re not the only busy person in the world. Make time for yourself and the people you care about and teach your children to do the same. Mindfulness counts.
My son accuses “Mother, you have entirely too much technology!” I adapt every one of my gadgets to my life and give them the place they deserve. I walk my dog with my orange little IPod that matches my car and I listen to music and use the pedometer to make the daily obligation count for something other than exercising the pooch. Multi tasking is healthy sometimes.
I enjoy Facebook and finding out what my friends are up to. I adore my IPhone and have a million pictures on IPhoto. YouTube entertains me ad nauseum. Living Social offers me great deals. The Skimm amuses me, "the Huff" often annoys me. I travel with my IPad AND my computer which has become part of my daily life and quite frankly, I have trouble leaving either behind. I buy my theater and movie tickets and do my banking online. I have a GPS in my car and an Apple TV in my den. I hardly use my digital camera in favor of the IPhone camera, which is more convenient, and for my purposes, excellent. I Skype with my children and have managed to maintain a loving and close relationship with my children’s children (as far away as Singapore) with this mode of communication.
Before I became fond of I-products, I had a long history with computers, starting with my dear Commodore 64, which taught me everything I needed to know in preparation for the bigger and better things to come. I was involved in getting a computer lab into my children's school against opposition of some peers who did not think it was necessary, and insuring that every classroom had a computer and a trained teacher to use them and help the kids. I'm often amused when young computer whizzes on the radio or TV put down their parents or older folks as computer illiterates. How did they get so smart?
I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of my beloved Commodore 64 until I moved from New York to Miami a few years ago. Thought I might have to donate it to some computer museum. I remember the first time I used Windows! I also remember my daughter teaching me how to email her when she went to college and how to use the Internet.
Google helps my memory when it falters and I need to look up something that I know but can’t quite place. Smitten Kitchen, Food 52 and Epicurious offer me great new recipes to try. My computer keeps me company, especially on those nights when sleep eludes me. There she is, ready to serve, inspire and help the hours go by. “A Pinterest perhaps?” she suggests.
The most important thing that I have learned being part of this computer age is that all the technology in the world cannot and will not replace a phone call when I, or the person I’m calling needs it or is delighted by it. No apps for human contact. No apps can replace a wonderful movie in a theater or a play or a real delicious hug from a friend, a child, a grandchild. No app gives me a welcome like my two dogs and two cats. And lets not even go to the texting “thing!” I thought it was wonderful when we finally got rid of telegrams. To think that they have now been replaced by cold, short, unpleasant half-words that people use to excuse their lack of time, of care, of simple good manners and style of writing and speech.
We must espouse new technology readily. It keeps us current. It keeps us in the loop but in the process; let us not forget good manners and those come in the shape of eating in a restaurant and leaving our phones at home or in the car. Of not holding our phones in our hands as if we were all neurosurgeons waiting for an emergency call from the hospital when we’re in a social situation. Of being able to ignore that call or text until we are alone and not offending anyone and certainly not while driving.
No technology can replace that cafecito at our favorite Cuban coffee shop. A nice lunch with a friend. A call to remind someone you care. Nothing is as thrilling as a postcard from a friend in a faraway place who happened to think about you and put a stamp on it and mailed it to your real home address. A thank you or "am thinking about you" handwritten note. No email can replace that moment of hearing your dear friend’s voice on the phone when you’re feeling down. Apps don’t convey emotion. Texting cannot (unless you’re 13) let you encompass how you feel when you’re depressed. You need real-time-face-time with someone who can listen. Apps don’t hug.
So my advice to myself and to you is, be selective with your technology and use it to enhance your life. Use your voice, your handwriting and your dialing skills to do the real thing. You’re not the only busy person in the world. Make time for yourself and the people you care about and teach your children to do the same. Mindfulness counts.
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