SUNDAY FUNNIES - Aidan in the Kitchen

      Why not?  I used to read the funnies on Sunday.  Makes more sense anyway.  Besides which, this was a long day, and my "daily post" isn't happening unless I fall back on some solid material.  These are a few "funnies" about Aidan.

      As you might imagine we occasionally called Aidan "Adie".  One day he was helping me in the kitchen and he said, "I'm a chef!  Chef-boy-Adie".  

      He didn't really appear to be too gifted in that line, though.  I will never forget the first time I thought I'd let him cook something on his own.  I thought Jello would certainly be within his capabilities.  The directions are so clear and easy to follow.  So, I set out the equipment necessary and the box of jello and left him to it.  I thought maybe I ought to glance in every so often.  Just as well....  I looked in and he had the water on the stove to boil - the whole two-quart pan filled to the brim.

      "Ah, Aidan, how much boiling water do you need?"
      "Two cups."
      "Well, how about measuring the water first?  Then you won't need to boil so much of it."  He took that advice as well-intentioned and I ducked out to leave him to it.  A bit later I thought I better check to see how it was going.  He'd taken my advice all right.  He'd measured the water - and there it sat - still in the measuring cup, which sat in the saucepan on the burner.  I had surely not realized how specific I needed to be!

      I am not sure that "food critic" was ever Aidan's direction. He didn't ever quite get the vocabulary down.  When he was in kndergarten his teacher was commenting how cooperative Aidan was in trying all the foods served at lunch.  She mentioned that he'd even tasted the sharp cheddar cheese in the salad that they'd served that day.  Overhearing this, he wanted, I suppose to emphasize his bravery in this regard, "Yes"!  he exclaimed, "And it poked me!"

      Probably five or so years later his food acumen had not improved a great deal.  He took a bite of a Three Muskateers bar and asked, "Is that all that is in this candy bar?  Cartilege?"

BEST PIE IN THE WORLD - AND CUPCAKES

Yesterday I believe that my mother bought me a piece of the best pie that exists on earth.  Certifiably so.

After thinking about doing this for awhile (why the delay???) we found our way up to a little pie shop in a continguous city (Dewitt); it took all of ten minutes to get there.   This little shop is called "Sweetie-licious Pie Pantry" and it is the cutest thing on earth, very retro and charming.

I read about the owner a couple of years ago in FAITH magazine.  Sad thing is I don't quite remember the story, except that her faith helped her work her way out of a sad situation, and into this life she loves.  After they did the article, I was prompted again to visit the shop, when I read that she had won the first place three years' running in the Crisco National Pie Championships!  And she recently won First Place in the Food Network Pie Challenge.

Frankly, I believe I make a good pie, and I learned from my mom who makes a good pie - so we went up there expecting a good pie, but reserving wild-eyed praise.  (My mother still left saying something along the lines of, "But they (the judges) have never tasted your Buttermilk Pie!")  Yet, we were wowed.  I had the prize-winner pie - the Very Cheery Cherry Cherry Berry Pie.  The two "cherries" in the title refer to fresh cherries and dried cherries, and I have to say those dried cherries in there were magnificent.  Also - the crust was spectacular, if I do say so myself.

  But as nice as the pies was the ambiance.  The people in there are just as happy and sweet as can be.  Lynda, the owner, is as cute, friendly and welcoming as she is made out to be and the fellow on the right was really a dear.  He was putting pink coconut on cupcakes while we were there and really appeared to be liking his work, silly as that sounds.  (Those cupcakes were adorable!)

TOTAL WEIRD ASIDE:  His cupcakes were more adorable than the ten that I made to take to Zhen's class for his birthday yesterday, which the dog ate while I went out to pick the kids up from skating.  But mine were cute, too and - yes; the dog ate TEN of those cupcakes...and it took me a while to believe it because she made NO MESS whatsoever.  No smear of frosting, no crumbs (I couldn't eat one without crumbs)!  Of course, the difference between the dog and me is that she ate hers with paper on!  And half of them had foil cupcake holders (or whatever you call them)..

Anyway, no bakery compliments for me - I had to go to the store and buy Russian candy to take to his class for a birthday treat because I didn't have time to make more cupcakes.  And the dog never got sick!  That might be the strangest thing of all!!!

RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION

I just read a post by my friend Mary (also an adoptive mom; her son was in the same orphanage as Anastasia, and then later Ilya).  Reading the so-well-written tale of her jury duty brought back to mind my one experience of being called for jury duty, which turned out far differently than hers, even though I really think we went into it with very much the same level of interest and anticipation.

Like Mary, I thought I would like to be on a jury!  I had the same sort of - "Well, this will be interesting!!!" approach to the experience.  Remember - I'm the girl who loves Forensic Files and 48 Hour Mystery, and back when we had TV I used to be moderately addicted to People's Court.

I was pleased when I was one of the juror candidates drawn to be questioned.  We went into the courtroom and were given an overview of the case.  Immediately, any sense of adventure went out of the experience.  The case involved the death of a woman in an auto accident. I was hoping for something INTERESTING - not purely sad.

Furthermore, the more I listen, the sadder the story gets;  it transpires that the accident was during a rainstorm, and the accused's car slid on wet pavement, and hit the side of the deceased person's car going at an extremely low rate of speed (of course I don't remember exactly, but I'd guess something like 10-15 mph - really slow); the poor woman somehow bumped her head just right so that the injury resulted in her immediate death.  Obviously this was a very unusual injury.  And, it was even mentioned up front that the accused was going significantly UNDER THE SPEED LIMIT at the time.

Remember - all of this was the initial overview of the case. I figure at this point, jurors should be hankering for more details.  But, we'd only begun and I wanted to cry out - "For God's sake, people; it was an ACCIDENT!"  Why are we wasting all of this money and time on this?  It was an accident, let the man (the accused) suffer without this circus!  Don't you see that his life will be forever ruined by this already???!!!.  And, let the victim rest in peace!

We've only begun and I am simply horrified, tied in knots, with sympathy for the poor man who had caused the death of another person. He is sitting there - a colorless little man, reminding me of Walter Mitty.  Clearly not the sort of cocky drug dealer or stock trader who'd previously been weaving in and out of traffic.   Isn't being the cause of someone's death enough punishment?  Isn't THAT torture for a lifetime????  What is THIS about, then?  I'm sitting there, nearly in agony for the poor man; I was trying to catch his eye to give him sympathetic looks.  Obviously, I thought, it could have been ME.  It could have been anyone!  And they admit that the woman's death from this little bump was a FLUKE!  What are they playing at?

So while I'm being accosted internally by all of these intense reactions, I am sitting there appearing, I think, outwardly placid and they are asking the jurors questions, none of which hit at all on what  seemed to me to be the key eliminating qualification surely - "Are you already fervently praying that the accused gets off with nothing more than a lot of prayers for his psychological well-being?"  But no questions like that.  A couple of jurors were let off for having recently had an accident.  I remained.

Then comes the quizzing by the prosecutor.  The prosecutor was a woman who immediately hit me wrong.  For one thing she was wearing an ugly brown suit and black fishnet stockings with a hole.  For cripes sake!  I can dress better than that!!!  (Not saying much.) And, any idea that she might be rumpled but brilliant was soon quashed when she spoke.  Far from having studied this case, she keeps having to look at her notes; she seems to have been handed them about thirty seconds earlier, and is clearly not a quick study.  First thing she does is state incorrectly the name of the victim.  First name wrong; last name mispronounced.  Every time she says the victim's name after this, it is again wrong, first one way and then another.  I am  squirming at the disrespect, the horror of it all...somehow the action of the prosecutor in not caring enough to say the woman's name right, is striking me as far worse than whatever misjudgment caused the accused to go a little faster than conditions warranted on that horrible day.

I literally had myself worked up to a fever-pitch of upset for both victim and accused.  Some closure was needed, but it was a PRAYER SERVICE not a TRIAL!  I sat there imagining myself leaping up and suggesting this. 

Early in the questioning, probably right after our names, they'd asked, "Do you have any religious or moral objections to judging another person?"  Everyone blithely and thoughtlessly said, "No." including me.  But woven throughout all these other thoughts, I was thinking about that.  Do I?  I realized, "Yes, I do!!!"

But what do I do about it?

Obviously, the juror candidates were not expected to speak without being spoken to, but finally, I raised my hand and said, "Excuse me, I realize on further thought that I really DO have a moral difficulty in judging another's actions in a setting like this."  And, then, to my horror, it happned.

Righteous indignation overtook me.  I have had three times in my life when somehow I have been completely engulfed by the sort of righteous fury that I presume Jesus displayed toward those money-changers.  I cannot imagine what possessed me.  I did not consciously set out to do such a horrific thing, but it just burst out of me.

I stood up and gave them my opinion about the whole fiasco....  I don't remember precisely what I said, but I know I expressed in powerful oratory the thoughts expressed above - including (to my horror) the level of disrespect I thought it showed not to know the victim's name.  "What if it was your mother who had died?  How would you feel to hear her precious name mangled again and again?  How would it feel!?" (Sadly I do remember that part.)  Then, I turned to the accused and vowed wildly to pray for the healing of his grief and guilt. (Which I have done for all these years whenever I think of this event.)  Then, somehow, without even getting permission I think, I eradicated myself from the cluster of juror chairs and strode out of the room.  I remember the adreniline which was probably spurting from ever pore.  I remember fearing to look back, lest one of the guards would be coming after me with handcuffs.  Of course I wondered what the heck it was like in there after I left!  (Surely my impassioned oratory had totally thrown this case off its tracks. Doubtful.)  I was allowed to leave, and never was picked up for contempt of court or any of the other high crimes and misdemeanors I imagined I'd  committed.   I was to horrified to even tell Craig how it had gone.  I really did fear every phone call and every piece of mail that arrived for the next few weeks.  This is the first time this odd incident has been publicly acknowledged.  I did try to follow the papers after this to see how the trial went....never heard a thing about it.  I do pray for those poor people.

My other two RI moments?  When I was about twelve a girl down the street gave me a cat.  I loved the cat, of course, like a child. It was my first pet and unbelieveably dear.   For some reason or other one day she came down the street to tell me that she wanted her cat back.  Wowee....  I think some angel of the Lord overtook me (or a demon?) at any rate, I do not remember what I said to her, I only remember that I was powerful, and I was articulate. As I remember it I got larger.  And she took off never to dare to come near my cat again!  And perhaps not my house!

The second occasion was in Santa Barbara California.  In some ways this is the funniest.  I was riding the bus with a bunch of typical inner-city young black guys who were loud, rude, and vulgar throughout the ride.  As it happened we got off the bus at the same time, and even though there was a trash bin attached to the bus stop pillar right there, a couple of them threw some trash on the ground.  Without thinking, that spirit of righteousness came over me and I instructed them in no uncertain terms, to pick that trash up NOW and put it in the trash container!   (Good gosh!  What brought that on!?)  I didn't think about doing it ahead of time.  I can't imagine anyone in their right mind doing such a thing, apart from maybe an armed officer of the law.  But. here is the funny part (and it illustrates the actual power that seems to come over me at these moments), they not only picked up the garbage, and put it in the trash container - they apologized.  "Sorry, ma'am."  They called me ma'am!!!  I apparently had spoken with authority!

I wish I had half this power - a quarter of it - when speaking to my children.  But it only comes on me unaware.  Too bad.

MORAL DEVELOPMENT

In the interests of not writing a book, I pared down the focus in my post about Anastasia's party-going woes.

I do think that behavior like that needs to be attacked, as it were, from a few directions at once.  While I have this feeling that in her case the genesis is in some deep dark knot stemming from her past, there is no doubt in my mind that it is also downright sinful behavior (I'm a Catholic, right?).  I have to say I also loved Olga's response.  I do think that Anastasia is a also a "drama-queen".  That is - she doesn't just feel things, she enhances her feelings and she illustrates them.  I suppose that is one step beyond the proverbial "acting out".  It is acting pure and simple!

In her neediness for attention, she has also been known to generate "feelings" out of whole cloth...just to get it.
My guess is that a sad little neglected girl, the first real focused, cossetting attention she got from strangers was when she was removed from her home.  I expect it felt really good.  Plus, she was of interest to people!  They treated her well!  A time or two since she has been with us, she has made the effort to get some of that attention via making herself seem pathetic.  (Well - it worked once!) 

I want to understand her so I can help her understand herself.  I really think that if she can realize what provokes these feelings, awareness will help her fight these impulses.  At her best, she is a thoughtful girl, who wants to be good and kind.  But by what compulsion does she behave in opposition to what she knows she really wants to do?  Well, some might say - it is just the prompting of Satan.  Nothing more than giving into selfish, sinful urges.

I sense that yes, the anxiety is there, but I also think she nurses it.  And that part of it is choice.  A sinful, wrong choice.

Hence, the title of the post.  Unless my children's reaction is clearly out of their control (like those that result in Maxim's rages or an actual Anastasia-melt-down), I  always try to use these occasions to build the children's moral development.  As a mom, I am quite glad I got the chance to study Kohlbergs' "Stages of Moral Development" because knowing this information helps me think a little more clearly sometimes about stretching my children up to the next level.

The "stages" of moral development are basically thought processes about "being good".  Motivations, as it were. Kohlberg would say that we all have to move from one stage to the other, without skipping any (though we can have a foot in a couple at a time, and may stay for a long time in one, and zip through others.)  We will know adults who remain in a very child-like stage.  But, knowing the progression is helpful; here they are (very short form!)

1. Punishment Orientation: (How can I avoid punishment?)
2. Reward orientation (What's in it for me?)
3. Interpersonal accord and conformity (Social norms - wanting to be like others/wanting others to like me/wanting to be considered "good"/wanting friends)
4. Authority Orientation: (It is the law! We have to follow the rules.)
5. Ethical principles: (What is right? What is truly good and beautiful?)

You can see that people usually move through these stages at somewhat predictable ages....though growth in morality is irregular and imperfect, we often see preschoolers at level 1 and 2 - wanting to avoid punishment and get a reward. Around 3rd and 4th grade children are often moving into Stage 3 - wanting to be liked, wanting to have friends, be like others. Around middle school or a little younger we start "luring" or "pushing" children into considering Stage 4. Rules become very important. That's when we usually have children memorize and study the Ten Commandments. Hopefully, we live in a society where most people rise to Stage 4! But we've all seen adults get completely stuck in lower stages - even Stage 2 - The "What's in it for me?" mindset created a lot of financial upheaval for our entire country.

What we want for our children (and ourselves!) is to get to Stage 5.  We want to act out of love.  Not so we get rewarded, not so we are liked, not just to "follow the commandments", but because we want to allow God to guide our actions - even when it is seemingly not in our best interests!  That is self-sacrifice. 

The theory goes - and I belive it - is that we will not make any sense to a person if we do not reason with him using either reasons that resonate in the stage where he is, or the one just above it.  We will make no sense to someone if we are suggesting the value of self-sacrifice, when they are just wanting to be liked.

So, with Anastasia  last week, I took aim and fired using a number of ideas that seem to be in and around her present level of thinking.

Anastasia, if I see that ugly expression on your face again, you'll not go to the party; you will spend that time alone in your room.  (Punishment)

If you can show me only pretty expressions you can go to the party. 

If you can show me that you are happy for V. on her birthday, I will let you have something new to wear, too.  (Reward)

Anastasia, if you want people to like you, you have to be sweet.  No one wants to be around a person who is selfish and unkind.

You will  be invited to lots of parties if you are fun to have around.  You won't be invited to any if you are crabby.  (Social)

Anastasia; I insist that you behave in a way that represents our family well, or you will not be allowed to attend parties at all.  You will not humiliate yourself or me again by this ugly behavior! (Rule)

So....she's given it a lot of thought, one way or another.....

And, to tell you the truth - I also have been singing the birthday song into her ear and giving her lots of cuddles the last few days as well......

TTT - The Observations of Children

The perp and his sister

For some odd reason, all of my experiences that fit this particular topic involve not children.  But only Aidan.  Sweet, charming, open, observant Aidan. 

One of the more embarrassing moments he gave me - though sadly, far more embarrassing for some other poor woman - was the clear, bold observation he made in a very long line at the bank one afternoon.  With time for the eye to roam, it roamed at eye level and fell upon the patron ahead of us.  He commented to all present, "That lady has a BIG BOTTOM!"

And then there were the restaurant comments.  We took him to a fish restaurant, and it had  been long-established that shrimp were his favorite food.   However on this particular day he was chowing down when he got to thinking,  "Mom, what is this?"  "Shrimp" did not cut it as an answer.  So, I tried to elucidate, suggesting that shrimp were a kind of fish.  "Fish!!!"  Horror covered his dear face, as his voice penetrated the restaurant, "Fish!!  You mean this is DEAD FISH?!!?!?  They used to swim??!?"  I think more than one diner was forced to think again about becoming vegetarian. 

But, this was not as bold a health statement as he made at the restaurant where they had very imperfectly divided the smoking and non-smoking sections.  As he began to smell smoke, his little curly head perked up.  "Somebody's smoking!!  Why are they smoking!?  They're going to DIE!!!"  It was at a moment when, as I recall, there was no ambient noise whatsoever and every head in the place turned toward the soon-to-be-departed.  As we had just received our food, that was unfortunately - not us.  Look at plate; eat.  Pretend you heard nothing.

BIRTHDAY BLUES

This weekend a friend shared, via e-mail, all the photos from her daughter's birthday party with the parents of the guests.  I wasn't gratified to see what a glum little reveler Anastasia turns out to be.  Isn't she enjoying watching her friend open the gifts???  I wish I could show the entire photo with the smiling faces of all the other girls - and you'd sympathize with my embarrassment.

I do know that birthday parties are a hot button for her, a trigger bringing up all sorts of unpleasant "stuff" from her past.  I didn't realize that at the party - with all the other children - she is still unable to overcome her malaise.   I really feel rather sorry for her; she is aware that her feelings and behavior are not "normal" and are "unpleasant".  In better moments she has obviously given it some thought.  One day she came to me and said "I can't stand it when I hear the birthday song sung to someone else."  She can tell the it sets off some uncontrolable (and unreasonable) reaction deep within her.

Is it just that she was given so little attention for her first years of life that she covets the attention that others get?  In the way a starving child would hate to see someone being given a nice plate of food? 

I have tried to give her little assists.  For example,  I took her to the same store where we got the outfit for her friend, and I let her pick an outfit for herself to wear to the party.  At her last birthday party, I found identical short/shirt sets in different colors - one to wear and one to give - she's still at the age where dressing alike and "being twins" is fun.  These things help, but obviously don't get to the heart of her distress.

In the next month we have FOUR birthdays to get through.  Zhenya's this Friday.  Calvin's on the 30th (her nephew - Aidan's son), and Maxim's and Ilya's the first week of December.  How to get through these days?   The idea of giving her extra attention goes over like a lead balloon with the actual birthday children.  As you can imagine, while not so needy as she is, they all want and deserve to be the center of attention themselves.

Her behavior, mind you, does not really parallel what one would expect that she would be feeling.  She is not sympathetic to anyone but a mother!  The affect is not sad, or needy, or longing....  No, she becomes hard, snide, sarcastic, irritated, angry and ill-tempered.  She does everything in her power to destroy any happy occasion.  Very unlikable, indeed.  And difficult to address.  I welcome all advice!

PELMENI

Saturday night I was all set to make meat loaf, when some imp of Satan [just kidding] prodded me into making pelmeni.

My kids all love pelmeni - one of the only dishes that gets universal approval.  Every so often I buy a bag of them, frozen, at the Russian store.  But they are fairly expensive, and last time I was in the process of doing this a Russian lady with serious face (as one might expect from a Russian lady) told me that I should not buy these as I would not know what was in them.  I should make my own; it is easy.

Well, I happened to know that it is easy. 
One night our Russian school group made them together and it was easy, fun and fast.   And I will also confess that her raising the question about what was in them, did cause me to pause.  What did she know?????


I have to confess that by myself, making pelmeni was perhaps easy, and fun (for a while), but definitely not fast.  This is a nice dish to make as a family, or with friends.  I even think that our little Russian school group should get together and make them for ourselves - sort of "stock up" the freezers.  I worked through most of All Things Considered and all the way through Prairie Home Companion, as I did mine....  But the results were tasty and appreciated.

Here is the easy recipe.

Filling:  Take whatever meat you like - even a combination - chicken, pork, beef and grind it up in the cuisinart.  Put it in a mixing bowl and process 1/3 as much onion as you have meat and mix the two.  Season with salt and pepper.

Dough:  I ended up making four batches of dough...I guess it depends on how many you want, but the basic recipe is:  1 1/2 c. flour, 1 egg, salt, 1/4 c. water.  Mix this together and kneed it until smooth (not long - a minute or two).

There are two ways to make the pelmeni.  You can roll out the dough and cut circles for the pelmeni, or you can take little bits of dough balls and roll them out individually.  I actually like this latter method (the only one the Russian lady who taught us had ever used).  It has two advantages - it doesn't take as much room or make as big a mess, and you don't have the same problem with the dough sticking. 

The circles are imperfect, that is OK.  They are maybe 2 1/2 " in diameter, and into each you put a ball of meat mixture a little larger than a marble.  Fold the circle in half, encasing the meat, and seal the edges.  Take the two sides of the half circle and pinch them together to make the traditional pelmeni shape.  Then you can boil them in broth.  Again - a mixture is fine - I boiled mine in a mixture of beef and chicken broth.  They only boil a few minutes; the meat cooks as they boil.  You can serve them in a bowl with a little broth or a lot, depending on your preference.  I love fresh herbs on top - like dill or parsley - and sour cream.

BIG WARNING: (Courtesy of Mary)  If you are not going to cook these right away you need to leave them on a cookie sheet - not touching - and freeze them.  When they are frozen you can put them in a bag.  If you let them touch when they are in the "fresh" form they will adhere to one another and you have an odd mess.

* Confessions:  a) This post was really done on the 9th, but I am determined to do the "daily" post in November.  b) Much of this was already on facebook......  Well....Sunday is a busy day!!!!!