My mother’s tiny glass heart.

January 28, 2014 Savvy Spoonie Leave a comment

It’s hard to be a child. School is challenging, scary, and often filled with awkward and unpleasant social encounters that eat away at the enjoyment of your day. If you think about how tiny the wee people we send to school are, how thin the shielding around their easily wounded hearts can be, and the plethora of peer induced traumatic events awaiting them each day it’s no wonder they often fake illness to stay home.

When I was a little girl my mother, who has always considered herself a bear, would tell me there was a little bear on my shoulder, sitting next to me and giving me love and strength. It worked wonders knowing that no matter what the more popular kid said to me or the angry kid did to me or who “accidentally” pushed me at recess my mother bear was there with me to help me stand up, brush myself off, and move on with the day.

Now my wee offspring are navigating the tumultuous waters of school, and while I tell them they have a little cat on their shoulder, which is the animal I identify with, it doesn’t work the same way it did with me. (Perhaps because cats are capricious and don’t always want to do what you need them to do.)

So my mother gave them each a little glass heart:

They carry her little heart along with them in their pocket during the day. Oliver told me proudly that Nama was with him all day at school because her heart was in his pocket. Marlena found herself comforted by gripping the tiny expression of unquestioning love when she was having a sad day. Each day before they go to school, they make sure they have their little glass heart with them, just in case. Each day they feel, tangibly, that someone who loves them with the unconditional fierceness of a grandmother is walking by their side as they deal with the myriad of problems that arise in their day.

I am not sure mom realizes what a huge difference her tiny glass hearts have made in the hearts of her grandchildren, but I know the benefit these small people get from her thoughtful gesture will be remembered forever.

Another Fucking Growth Opportunity

Faded memories.

January 27, 2014 Savvy Spoonie 1 Comment

They peek out from behind the anger and the hurt, the sorrow and the pain.

A day when he brought home water guns and initiated a water gun fight in the house with me and the children.

A night when the power went out in Jersey in the wintery chill and we camped in the attic under sleeping bags with candles burning to keep warm.

The cards he used to randomly leave me, expressing love, support, longing.

The night he climbed up on the bed to relocate a spider that insisted on trying to sleep directly above my head.

Each good memory shimmers hazily in the back of my mind. As if a gossamer layer of the harder times is laid over the reasons we were married to begin with. It’s hard work to pull back that shade, to let back in the sunny memories of jokes, laughter, silly games, and days spent desiring no one’s company but each other’s. Pulling back those curtains is heartbreaking. It brings with it sorrow, pain, longing, regret, and tears. Brimming over when least expected. Rivers of salt streaming down my cheeks.

It would be so much easier to hold onto the hurts, the old and new betrayals, the volumes of harsh words. It would be so much less deeply cutting to wrap myself in the comfortable protection of indignation and fuel my decisions with the certain and unquestioning fire of anger.

But the light keeps peeking through. The carpet picnics before the fire, the romantic talks on the roof, the day he realized he should never leave me alone with a fight going on in my head because he would always lose it unless he was there to speak his point of view. The day I caught a photo of his hand, his giant strong hand, holding the smallest of butterflies. The perfect juxtaposition between his strength and his gentleness.

The time has passed enough that the light keeps seeping in from the shadows. I come across positive moments like an amnesiac hits upon a memory. Suddenly, with no warning and in the middle of the mundane, there is the memory of a happier time, just waiting to be accepted back in. I can feel it pulling at the back of my memory, asking gently for permission to come to the forefront and let the healing truly begin.

Gluten Free Recipes

I kicked chronic pain’s ass this morning.

January 25, 2014 Savvy Spoonie Leave a comment

I awoke as I normally do, pounding headache and aching right shoulder from the accident. I took some vitamin V and the I conquered the world!

I made candied bacon. I made bacon, mushroom, egg cups. I fed the whole family and I did it all in my batgirl jammies. (Mostly because Oliver made me put them on, as he was wearing his TMNT jammies and he wanted some solidarity).

So, candied bacon (Which I had for the first time at my cousins’ house, making them the best cousins in the world):

1 package turkey bacon (I hate turkey bacon, I never use the stuff, however it works so well for candied bacon that it is my one exception)

1/4 cup dark brown sugar

1/8 – 1/4 cup hot water

Set the oven to 350. Stir the water and brown sugar. Lay the freakishly uniform strips of turkey bacon on a pan. Gently drizzle ‘bacon’ with sugarwater mixture until each piece is fully covered. Bake until crisp. Pull from oven and cut into small bite sized pieces of deliciousness.

Breakfast egg cup things:

Thoroughly and unremittingly spray a cupcake pan with non-stick spray. I mean really spray the sucker.

Eggs, 1 per cup

Veggie of some kind (Preferably that you like to consume with eggs)

Meat of some kind (Also that you like to consume with eggs)

Set oven to 350. Place a few small slices of meat into the bottom of each cup. Add a veggie, like a mushroom, some onion, broccoli, etc. Crack one egg over the top of each pile of goodies. Place in oven and bake until the egg looks good. I like the yolk a little runny and the whites completely cooked so I cooked it for about 12 minutes.

Pop out of cupcake pans, and gobble up with tiny bits of candied bacon.

Happiness!