Bad Mommy

Sometimes, I feel like a bad Mom.

Say, when people started asking me what Mary was going to be for Halloween and I didn't have a response let alone a costume. I felt worse when the costume that I finally got around to ordering was way too big.

I feel like a bad Mom when I compare my pumpkin-less, cobweb clean, mum and mummy-free entryway, to the lawns of Mayberry on which Halloween threw up earlier this month. Don't worry though, buying and carving pumpkins along with shrinking Mary's costume is on my list of things to do tonight.

I felt terrible when Mary got a rash around her mouth last week and the doctor told me the culprit was a binky that hadn't been properly sterilized. Or Mom.

I feel like a bad Mom when I can't get Mary back to sleep at night, when I spill the milk I pumped all over the Mother's Room at work, when I see Julian's ultra organic baby mush lunch next to Mary's Gerber peaches, and when Mary is one of the last babies to get picked up from Day Care. Seriously, how do all the other Moms or Dads have jobs that allow them to pick up their kids before 5:00 PM?

But for all the stuff that I'm likely doing wrong, I swear I'm doing something right. Mary's developmental milestones tell me so: the way she is eating, crawling, waving, and babbling.

More than that though, her smile keeps giving me the nod of approval. She is just so happy. All the time.

I'd like to say it's the song and dance routine I choreograph to every activity that we do together, but I think the rationale is more simple. Everything is new and exciting to her: seeing her friends at day care, getting a hug from Mommy and Daddy, crawling from one side of the room to the other, dripping dry after I pull her out of the tub, touching her toes, grabbing Mommy's nose, and of course eating, and eating and eating.

After sleepless nights and stressful work weeks, it's a wonderful reminder about what really matters. It's the little things in life that are most important.

And judging by how happy a stack of Oma's potato pancakes made Peter on Saturday night, I can't wait to watch Mary experience the simple joy of  her own heaping portion of Oma's famous kartoffelpuffers. Forget about the pumpkins or gory lawn ornaments; the sure way to go from bad Mom to good Mom on any give night, invite Oma over.

Lo.

Oma's Potato Pancakes

Ingredients:
6 large russet potatoes, peeled and cubed
1/2 of a vidalia onion, peeled and quartered
2 eggs
4 tablespoons flour
Salt, pepper
Canola oil
Applesauce (unsweetened)

Directions:
Using a food mill, grind potatoes and onion into a large bowl. Potatoes should look like shreds.

Beat two eggs, then add into potato and onion mixture. Add flour, salt and pepper and stir until well incorporated.

In the 'bacon pan' or a large cast iron skillet, pour a 1/4 inch of oil and heat until sizzling. Using a slotted spoon, add three dollops of potato to the pan, similar to how you would add pancake batter to a skillet. Using the spoon or a spatula, spread the potatoes out. Cook for about three minutes per side, until golden brown. Flip using a very thin, flexible spatula and brown on the other side.

Drain the grease on a plate covered with paper towels. Serve hot with a side of applesauce.

Mash Up

16 years ago, when we weren’t pranking the Latin students or Mr. Walker's algebra class; when we weren’t reciting speeches for Mr. Altman on stage, writing papers for Dr. Free, or escaping to Egypt via Dr. Bedell; when we weren’t protecting our belongings from the class kleptomaniac, cleaning the clay out of our nails, or alerting Dr. Vassar that she had the in case of emergency number wrong (with all due respect, I believe it’s 9-1-1 not 9-9-1); you could probably find Nicole and I on a school heater, warming our kilted bottoms from the cold winter weather and tearing out a clean sheet of paper to craft yet another MASH grid.

For those that are unfamiliar, MASH is a girly, horoscope game. The respondent get three inputs for each category ranging from the name of your spouse to the place you will live to the number of children you will rear. The questioner and person filling out your MASH card gets the fourth input. After you've filled in all of your answers, a rudimentary algorithm determines which choices will define your future.

I don't know if it was version 521 or 630, whether it was freshman or junior year, but there was one MASH game that was pretty accurate in predicting Nicole's future.

She went to CMU.
She became a doctor.
She lived in an apartment in Boston.
She got married in Pittsburgh - Heinz Chapel to be exact; honeymooned in Africa.
She wore a white dress.
His tux was black.
The cake was a couple layers of burnt almond torte.
Nailed it.

Well almost. The only problem is that our little oracle indicated that Nicole would be marrying one of the four known boys within Ellis' deserted dating pool. Woof.

The default, worse case scenario guy circled on your MASH sheet was always depressing and clouded an otherwise rosy future; so we came up with another way to define the man who would be waiting for us at the end of the aisle.

A list, compiled of the ideal qualities we sought in our Prince Charmings. He was nameless in high school, but as we left Ellis’ bubble and ventured into a scarier co-ed world, our compasses led us to some other choices in the game of MASH.

Nicole's list was tough though. She didn't just have the standard attributes like good looking, funny and nice. She took Prince Charming's qualifications to the next level.

(Very) smart.
Great sense of style.
Comes from a good family.
Can dance. And preferably tango.
Loves to travel. Globally.
Good cook.
Likes to entertain.
Speaks Spanish. Or will learn.
Cultured.
Appreciates art.
Good luck with that.

It took a couple mismatches and some reordering of attributes, but Nicole found her first choice in the game of MASH and married him yesterday with multinational, cultural gusto and grace.

While we were never going to be able to perfectly predict all that our futures will hold – the house might actually be a mansion, the pink car might actually be blue, and the two kids might turn to three - but I feel confident predicting that Nicole and Alec have a happily ever after in their cards. And yesterday I felt so honored to be standing up for my dear friend as she said, ‘I do’ to her dream come true.

Lo.