Rock n' Roll baby!

Hubs ran the PF Chang's Rock n Roll half marathon. He came in with a very respectable time of 1 hour 39 minutes. He had a great run and afterwards mentioned that a slightly better pace in the full marathon would qualify him for the Boston. Crazy guy.

Just to prove that he's human after all, I snapped this pic of him going through the race goody bag afterwards.

No worries, I was able to dab the drool off the chair with a few paper towels.

That's AMORE!

Today I made a delicious bubbling pot of cacciatore, a wonderful Italian stew of sorts. Cacciatore means "hunter" in Italian and is most commonly made with chicken, but I tossed in pork, beef, and some fabulous sweet Italian sausage. There are many great recipes for this dish, but I make it like my Momma made it. Simple tomato base with cheap red cooking wine, tons of great herbs, fresh garlic, and whatever meat is on sale. I have experimented with better wine, but the cheapie stuff has salt added and it works really well with the dish. I have tried nicer cuts of meat too, but the pot simmers all day and the discount steaks taste just as tender as the ribeyes.

Thank God I am Italian. The dash of this, touch of that, throw it all in a pot, style of cooking works for my personality and my lifestyle. If I were French, there would be measuring and technique. If I were English, there would be precision and careful timing. But I am not. I am Italian. More is more. Food is love. Pass the wine bottle.

Really, it explains so much.

She works hard for no money....

If my life were a movie, there would have been a point in the story, set more than a few years ago, when the heroine (me) realized that climbing the corporate ladder was not conducive to a family life. The soundtrack would swell (maybe Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve) as she packed up her desk and turned in her laptop. No longer a slave to the money 'til she dies, the movie gal would smile broadly as she waves goodbye to her coworkers and the elevator doors close. Cut to the scene a few years later when that same gal is snuggling a sweet baby on a blanket in a sunlit yard, blissfully happy to have found her true calling in life. THE END. You might have missed the sequel, though. The one were the beleaguered mother of two runs screaming back to her job just before her brain evaporates.

I know I chose to opt-out, as they call it these days. But today I am wondering why exactly I worked so hard for all those years. Instead of graduating from high school with honors and a scholarship in debate, I should have taken home economics, so I would know how to sew these so-called-iron-on patches onto the Brownie vest. Instead of graduating in the top 2% of my college class, I should have taken child psychology and more babysitting jobs. Instead of working on gantt charts and million dollar budgets, or (later) window displays and payroll taxes, I should have learned to knit. Our plans have me back in the workforce in a few more years, once the Little Guy is a little older. I just hope I can still string together coherent sentences by then.

Milestones

Girlie lost her first tooth today. It was a tough road for her. Both of her big teeth grew in before the little ones fell out, so she has had the discomfort of an extra set of bottom front teeth for a few weeks. I made a dentist appointment to have them pulled, but miraculously, one popped out on its own before we had to go in. We were all so excited.

She snuggled into my lap as we marveled over how quickly it had gone from barely wiggling to its new resting spot in the tooth fairy box. As we discussed what the tooth fairy might bring, I rested my chin on the top of her head, inhaling that sweet but sweaty kid smell. I wanted to freeze her at that moment in time, one tiny tooth gone. She is really growing up so fast. As she gets older, my little girl will have so many "firsts" to experience, some she might not be so willing to share with me.

I'm not ready.

How to pick up chicks

The older I have gotten the harder it has become to make new friends. We have moved three times in the last eight years and each time it seems to be taking longer to settle in. I blame it mostly on the children. They keep me so busy that it is hard to take the time to cultivate a new relationship. Anyway, lately I find myself at the park with one eye on Girlie and the Little Guy and the other checking out the chicks. Hmmm, I think. She's cute. I edge closer and try to strike up a conversation. Just when we get into the swing of it, someone falls off the slide or needs a juice or has to make a hasty exit to the potty. We exchange names quickly and hope to see each other next time. This process can take forever and after a few months of pleasantries, I might discover that this chick and and I aren't compatible anyway.

I wish there was a "speed dating" service for new Mom friends. With fifteen minutes of uninterrupted conversation we could find out if we have anything in common beyond our children. If she has a snarky sense of humor, loves wine and coffee as much as I do, and wouldn't be caught dead gluing pictures into a scrapbook, we could go out on a real "date." What do you think? Matchamom.com?