tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11657117036685480162024-03-05T16:56:57.794-05:00hausfrauSacred, and profanePamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-32799928069191026142009-11-04T15:02:00.000-05:002009-11-04T15:02:18.730-05:00Slinging hash: chocolate puddingSacha has become very interested in cooking lately. I'm glad to see him taking an interest, but alarmed whenever he pulls his chair in front of the lit stove and shouts, “CAN I HELP TOO?” I'm trying encourage him and keep him alive by making things he can help with without putting himself in mortal peril, that he'll actually want to eat, and don't make too much of a mess.
I'm sure you can guessPamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-8546869472231280542009-10-31T15:00:00.001-04:002009-10-31T15:03:41.678-04:00Barbara Charmaine GoldsteenMy mother-in-law, Barbara Charmaine Goldsteen died early this morning, from complications related to pancreatic cancer. This was her fourth bout with cancer; prior to this, she had survived ovarian cancer three times. Her first two sicknesses occurred before I knew her; when David was a teenager.
No cancer diagnosis is good news, and ovarian cancer is especially deadly. When she was first Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-3126469662200550592009-10-30T20:46:00.000-04:002009-10-30T20:46:31.850-04:00Executive decisionsAfter some wavering, dithering and prevaricating, I have decided to participate in NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. It rolls off the tongue awkwardly, no? I am going to do my best to post something every day in November, which will be no small undertaking for me. I've stockpiled a few things, and I hope that is not considered cheating. Some items will be short, and a few may be lame, Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-91632606047618388832009-10-28T11:59:00.000-04:002009-10-28T11:59:30.183-04:00slinging hash: garlic soupIn an exquisite feat of timing, my children fell ill this week in highly choreographed fashion. Gabriel went first, spiking a fever on Sunday evening. Sarah came home early from school on Monday, and Sacha woke up sick in the middle of the night. I thought this most considerate of them, as it means we'll get this round over with quickly, whereas if they'd staggered their sickness, I would be Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-41980353122076773372009-10-22T22:46:00.001-04:002009-10-22T22:47:48.668-04:00Parenting in ALL CAPSIt is hard to comprehend, as you cradle your newborn in your arms, how much this child will annoy and anger you someday. This is the flip side of love; the ones we adore the most are also the ones most skilled at driving us crazy, sometimes in equal measure.
Spanking has been out for some time, but now, the tide is turning against yelling at our children. I take this with mixed emotions, as Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-54754023190736309272009-10-21T21:57:00.000-04:002009-10-21T21:57:35.193-04:00slinging hash: potato gratinAlthough there are thousands of ways to cook them, I am not very imaginative when it comes to potatoes. If I'm serving chicken, I make mashed potatoes; with beef, it's roasted or baked potatoes.
When I'm feeling frisky I switch it up by serving mashed potatoes with beef, and vice versa. Last Friday night, I made lamb, and by my logic, it called for an entirely different potato preparation. (If Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-4345468674972794922009-10-19T22:25:00.000-04:002009-10-19T22:25:33.632-04:00Fighting wordsMy children have all been great dumpers and tossers of things. The basic recipe goes something like: upend one tin of blocks, add a generous amount of Legos, and a smattering of cars. Using your hands, mix well until ingredients are incorporated, and then repeat vigorously, until items are spread to the far corners of the house.
Sacha is by far, my most talented child in this respect, and I am Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-42264202896450253402009-10-15T12:48:00.001-04:002009-10-15T13:28:07.676-04:00The heat gameToday is an auspicious day in the Goldsteen household. Today is the day we turned on the heat.
When we moved to this house almost three years ago, we experienced a severe case of utility sticker shock. We expected our utility bill to roughly double. We thought this was a reasonable assumption, because our new house is roughly one-third larger than our previous house. You can imagine our surprisePamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-71251150618120442792009-10-14T14:42:00.001-04:002009-10-14T14:53:46.649-04:00slinging hash: corn chowderI don't know what my children have against soup. Aside from miso or the occasional bowl of chicken noodle, the mere suggestion of soup leaves them mortally offended. But because hope springs eternal, I am thick-headed, and I just like making soup, I persevere.
Last week I had a hankering for corn chowder when a recipe for Cheddar Corn Chowder in the Barefoot Contessa Cookbook caught my eyePamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-43776452600086558152009-10-12T17:05:00.000-04:002009-10-12T17:05:59.728-04:00Playing GodDear Thomas and Amanda Stansel,
I am sorry you had such difficulty conceiving children. I can only imagine what heartache that would bring, as I was fortunate enough to conceive my children effortlessly with no intervention. I know this is a blessing.
It is understandable that you would turn to a fertility specialist in order to realize your dreams of parenthood. Modern medicine has made many Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-220857455237023132009-10-07T22:13:00.000-04:002009-10-07T22:13:16.645-04:00slinging hash: bloody maryI have always had a fondness for the breakfast cocktail. I wouldn't want to make a habit of it, but sometimes, on special occasions, it can be just the thing. Champagne cocktails are lovely, as is the Ramos Gin Fizz. But I have an especially soft spot for the Bloody Mary, which got David and myself through some fraught family gatherings early in our marriage. In keeping with this tradition, on Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-80022073210721660602009-10-06T12:46:00.002-04:002009-10-06T13:09:21.007-04:00Hesistatingly offered free unsolitcited advice!When it comes to clinical depression, I am a lifer. Because I have had more than three episodes of major depression, the likelihood of me slipping into this state again is too strong to risk going without medication. So Depression is a Dilemma for Women in Pregnancy, in today's Science Times, caught my attention.
I cannot live without antidepressants, pregnant or not. I suffered crushing Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-57098541576454322822009-10-03T00:16:00.002-04:002009-10-03T00:29:44.984-04:00Unrequited loveI considered many possible titles for this post. Foiled? So Close but yet so far? For the love of the Arctic Monkeys? But perhaps the sentiment that best sums it up is, Fucking Philadelphia.
David has always had an irrational hatred of Philadelphia. And while I've never spent an enormous amount of time there, it's always stuck me as a perfectly lovely place. David's visceral response stems fromPamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-13300334953528431682009-09-29T11:38:00.001-04:002009-09-29T12:48:07.400-04:00I don't knowEvery parent will tell you that getting one's children to take no for an answer is one of the more frustrating parts of this job. Equally exasperating, but less talked about, is the acceptance of I don't know.
I think this has something to do with the perception of parental omnipotence, which is something I'd like to preserve for as long as possible. On the other hand, I don't want to lie to my Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-2628689281172814642009-09-23T22:52:00.000-04:002009-09-23T22:52:01.903-04:00slinging hash: shortbreadI don't know if it is because my children are getting older, or I'm just paying better attention, but this year it struck me in an altogether new way how stressful the beginning of the school year is. Between whipping the kids back in to shape and figuring out everyone's schedules, it is like trying to fit together the pieces of an extremely complicated three dimensional Chinese puzzle, and it Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-85833916018368307482009-09-16T14:39:00.000-04:002009-09-16T14:39:06.969-04:00slinging hash: coconut macaroons with chocolate ganacheLast spring as I was planning the menu for my Passover seder, it occurred to me that I did not want to make yet another flourless chocolate cake. Delicious as they are, I was bored of them, and wanted to my menu to be a bit less predictable.
I happened to be reading A Homemade Life, Molly Wizenberg's lovely book. Wizenberg's blog Orangette, is a constant source of inspiration to me. And so I Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-50004874789685254802009-09-13T17:08:00.004-04:002009-09-14T20:18:09.747-04:00Post #105, in which I discover that I am a hypocriteWe made a deal with Sarah that when she had $1000 in her savings account, we would allow her to withdraw money and purchase something significant, subject to parental approval. She reached her goal last spring, and immediately asked for an iPhone.
Vetoed!
After being shot down so quickly, she deliberated for a long time. Eventually, she circled back to square one, figuring that if she could notPamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-5566054016995911982009-09-05T16:04:00.014-04:002009-09-05T23:17:53.904-04:00The High LineOne bit of evidence that life with Sacha children is getting easier is that we are starting to venture again into day trips. In the past, every time we'd get to this stage of family life, I'd done go get knocked up again and set us back a few years, but NO MORE.This week, we went to the High Line. I'd been looking forward to this because I felt a personal connection with the project, as less thanPamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56411583608058595122009-09-03T09:05:00.011-04:002009-09-03T11:07:53.333-04:00I have my marching ordersLike every other family in the state, we are gearing up for school. This actually involves less preparation than people would lead you to believe. True, bedtime needs to be rolled back, while supplies and new shoes, and haircuts have to be procured, but all of this takes less than 5 hours, so getting ready to go back to school is more a matter of mourning the end of summer, and getting into the Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-89501481689431197312009-09-02T21:04:00.004-04:002009-09-02T22:28:17.565-04:00slinging hash: zucchini breadWhen I was writing my dissertation, I worked for an academic think tank that ran a yearly seminar, where literary technology geeks gathered from around the globe to learn about textual analysis and computer encoding for humanities texts.One of my responsibilities was planning this seminar, and the most fun part of the job was working with the caterers to plan the meals. The caterer was Main Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-70360609587813764352009-08-30T13:21:00.005-04:002009-08-30T18:11:39.270-04:00The ass sensorI have a theory, albeit farfetched and slightly paranoid, that I think many mothers would agree with. I believe that when your first child is born, you leave the hospital, or your birthing bed, not just with your precious newborn, but also, with an ass sensor.Perhaps there is a dormant part of the female anatomy that is activated by all that pushing, or our doctors and midwives install it Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-38001534071455303422009-08-25T10:28:00.004-04:002009-08-25T17:55:58.611-04:00My ego was bruisedA few weeks ago, David and I spent a vast amount of money so that I could have my intelligence insulted. It turned out to be worth every penny.At the suggestion of our pediatrician we took Gabriel to see a pediatric neurologist. This doctor does not accept health insurance, and our pediatrician mentioned that his fee was higher than we would normally pay for out-of-pocket medical expenses. When IPamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-37016823187095759212009-08-22T13:13:00.011-04:002009-08-22T20:29:16.434-04:00Stuffing itIt is a truth universally acknowledged that boys like to put things in things. In my experience, anecdotal evidence suggests that if there is a hole, a boy is far more likely than a girl to attempt to fill it.First, there are the bodily orifices. Sacha is a great nose picker, and if I have fewer photos of him than I do of Sarah and Gabriel, it is in part, because many of them wind up looking likePamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-3176314486736722812009-08-21T21:24:00.003-04:002009-08-21T21:40:07.309-04:00Lines may have been crossedLast night I had one of those exchanges with Sacha that, taken out of context, was wildly inappropriate.At bedtime, I was snuggling in Gabriel's bed with my boys. Gabriel gets right down to business when it's time to go to sleep, but Sacha, the energizer baby, rarely stops moving. It is also very exciting for him to lie in the bed, because he still sleeps in jail a crib. He bounced about, and Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56038425274799822302009-08-20T23:42:00.008-04:002009-08-21T08:15:06.164-04:00Beware the ice cream manDid you know that the ice cream man, that Pavlovian staple of childhood, is A PREDATOR?Neither did I!This is the sort of thing that really chaps my ass. Yesterday the New York Times Dining section devoted a front page article to the latest target of the mommy police: When Parents Scream Against Ice Cream.There are many worthy child rearing causes to be passionate about, but this is not even Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com5