Sibling differences

I was always knew my sister and I were very different.  But I never really understood how different.

We are biological siblings.  We were adopted into the same family.  We are both single.  And we are both mothers to 1 daughter.  And that is just about where things ends.

I have never kept things.  She is a pack rat.  I am introvert.  She is an extrovert.  I am a democrat.  She is a republican.  She goes to church weekly.  I don't ever go to church. 

But nothing shows our differences more than our parenting.  And I wondering how that happens?

My daughter is almost 7 years old and adopted.
Her daughter is 4.5 years old and her biological child.

Her daughter is happy -- I mean truly happy.  Giggles all the time.
My daughter -- well, if you have been reading this blog you know there are some issues we are working on.

Her daughter wants to learn -- is genuinely curious about everything.
My daughter, hates school and likes to play "dumb" a lot.

My daughter is one of the pickiest eaters I know.
Her daughter eats everything.  I mean, I have yet to find a food she does not like. 

It may sound like I wish I had her daughter.  I love my niece (K) but I would never trade my daughter for hers.

As much as Ladybug doesn't listen to me and it drives me insane -- K not only doesn't listen to her mom, she then laughs about it.  And my sister allows it.  After 3 days I was completely sick of hearing my sister say, "Stop it, K. No, stop it, K.  Seriously, stop it K."

She is completely incapable of sitting still.  Which can occasionally be a problem.  Like at a movie.  She bounced.  She jumped.  She kicked the chair in front of her.  She walked up an down the aisle.  She dumped candy on the people in front of us.  She talked.  I can't imagine Ladybug acting like that.  And if she did I would haul her out of the theater.  My sister promised her more candy if she sat still.  So she sat still -- for about 10 seconds.

Ladybug is independent.  K is incapable.  I know they are 2.5 years apart but ...  K is incapable of doing things that Ladybug did without question at her age.  K got wet playing outside and I asked her to change her pants.  So She laid down on the floor and stuck her feet up in the air.  Huh?  I asked what she was doing.  She said I told her to change her pants.  So I told her to take her pants off.  She didn't know how.  After I helped her with this I asked her to put her shoes on.  She didn't know how.  I had to give her a step by step lesson on how to put a sneaker on her foot.  Just getting her foot in the shoe.  As I watched later that day, I realized that my sister does all those types of things for her.  She does not undress or dress herself.  At all.

My sister was on the computer, I was cleaning up after dinner, and the girls were suppose to be watching TV in the living room.  K deciding to go digging for gold...in her nose.  Not too surprising, this cause a nose bleed.  Which K found to be amusing.  And ran around the house.  With my sister yelling from her computer for her to sit and deal with the bleeding nose.  And I tried not to interfere.  She is not my daughter.  My sister has the right to raise her child as she sees fit without my interference.

However, I do wish that either K or my sister would have told me that she was bleeding all over my cream colored carpet in the townhouse that I rent.  That would have been really nice.

Mean Mama

Could it be...

I have spent enough time complaining bitching talking about the sleep problems in our house.  She doesn't sleep.  Ever.  She must be in my bed.  All the time.  Oh, don't get me wrong... I love cuddle time.  But I want sleep.  And I am pretty sure I will not sleep well again until I have my bed back.

Maybe it is a good thing that I am single.

And this week I had another one of those Aha moments...

Ladybug has an Ikea bed.  I am not a fan of Ikea -- with either design or function.  Yes, I know I am the only person in American who feels that way. 

Last Thanksgiving I hosted.  During that holiday I gave up my bed to my dad and stepmom.  I slept in Ladybug's bed.  Ladybug camped out on my bedroom floor because she wanted to be near the grandparents. Awful!!!  I love my bed.  I wanted my bed.  I didn't sleep well -- well, worst than normal.  My back hurt.  I couldn't wait for the holidays to be over.  I wanted my bed.

This Thanksgiving I am hosting again.  This time with my mom.  This year I put my mom in Ladybug's bed and moved Ladybug into my bed with me.  And after just one night my mom is not enjoying Ladybug's bed. 

Yeah, that was the light bulb moment (did you miss it?).

Maybe... just maybe... Ladybug doesn't sleep in her bed because it is not comfortable!  Maybe she doesn't make it through a night because her bed is awful.  Yes, I said the IKEA bed is awful!  Maybe if she had a comfortable bed maybe she would actually sleep.  Maybe she would stay in her own bed.  Maybe.  Hopefully.  Worth a try.

So on Sunday we went mattress shopping.  A single parent with an energetic and bored almost 7 year old in a practically empty mattress store.  In 2 mattress stores.  She managed to jump from one bed to the next all the way around the store.  Both stores. 

I did make her shoes off first.

And we ended up with a ridiculously expensive mattress.  I had no intention of spending that much.  But this is the only bed I will be buying her.  It comes with a 10 year warranty.  And the sales lady knocked off $50 because she was amused by Ladybug.

This might be my most expensive experiment yet.  Hope it works.

Mean Mama

What doesn't kill me will make me stronger

I have kept a brief journal of my exercise routine.  I have heard it takes 28 days to form a habit.  I am trying to make this a habit. 

Day #1: I started the exercise routine. I walked 1 mile in 28 minutes. I might have been able to crawl faster -- nope, I have bad knees. Guess I will just be happy that I made it a mile without dying.

Day #2:  I did a 25 minute mile (shaved off 3 minutes) from yesterday's time.  And then did 15 minutes on the elliptical -- kind of slow.  But 15 minutes is still 15 minutes. And Ladybug still bitched it was not enough time -- apparently she likes spending time in the game room.

Day #3: 33 minute mile... Why? Massive legs cramps. Walking and texting don't mix.  I spent the entire mile trying to text a friend while I walking.  I think I could have looked more graceful if I were drunk.  And the leg cramps are getting old.  Calves cramping -- both legs.  Lower back aching.  This is no fun.


Day #4: Tonight's workout included a 27 minute mile with only a minor leg cramp in my left calf and pain in my lower back -- that's what I get for carrying my weight around my belly.  And 20 minutes on the elliptical. Tomorrow I get to learn how to use all the machines in the gym -- at least that is what I hope I learn.

Day #5: Today kicked my butt -- I am going to opt to believe it was because it was a morning workout. I learned how to use the weights. Then I walked on the track. I did a 22 minute mile -- which led me to believe I lost count so I walked a few extra laps (15 laps equals 1 mile). Then I did 10 minutes on the machine that I have no idea what it is called. I will call it the elliptical, stepper torture machine. Just 10 minutes and I was sweating and panting.  If it is that hard, I am sure it is good for me.


Day #6:  In my world I rest on the 6th day.  Okay, I actually didn't even leave the house.  And if I were to be really honest, I didn't even get out of pajamas -- good thing it was a Sunday and not a work day.


Day #7: Short trip to the gym because of time crunch... I got out of work late and then Ladybug was having some behavioral issues.  I did weights for the entire body.. I lowered the expectation on my calves because apparently they still have no real muscle tone. 10 minutes on the torture machine. Then home to a delicious homecooked Ethiopian dinner - because the healthy eating started today.

Day #8:   Tonight I did a 26 minute mile on the track (which I felt good about until I watched The Biggest Loser tonight and saw that a 63 year old woman with 2 bad knees and weighed about the same as me could do a 26 mile).  Then 10 minutes on the torture machine (which is apparently called the ARC) before heading home to cook a fresh meal.

Day #9:  I completed weight training tonight. Then I decided to do 10 minutes on the ARC. But the AMT machine was available -- it is never available. So I decided to try it. You step and glide and peddle -- plus move your arms. There is no track so the machine responds to your body movements. So you must be coordinated to do this. Or you look like a fool. I looked like a fool and it kicked my butt. I made it 5 minutes before wanting to pass out. Then home for some pasta with some home made sauce. YUM.

Day #10:  OMG -- I think I am in love. But I am getting ahead of myself. Today was a cardio day. I started out with the plan to walk a mile and then get serious about cardio. So off to the track I went. And at lap 4 my calves were cramping - again. And I thought ... walking is the least effective exercise and, for me, the most painful. So after 5 laps -- 1/3 mile, I left the track. I can spend my time better.  I then did 20 minutes on the elliptical ... getting my heart rate to about 130. And then I promised that I would try the AMT machine again. I made it 5 minutes yesterday. Could I do 6 today? I walked to the cardio balcony and was disappointed to see that one of the 3 AMT machines was available. I think I actually groaned out loud. I was so hoping I wouldn't have to do it. But I got on. As I reached minute 2 I thought I was going to die. So I closed my eyes, concentrated on my breathing and tuned out everything (if I had an iPod then I could have also drowned out the peppy little aerobics instructor yelling out encouragement while telling people to do the impossible). And fell in love! I opened my eyes at just past the 6 minute mark. Feeling happy. Energized. And ready to keep going. But I knew I had hit the "runner's high" and I needed to stop even though I knew I could do more. Oh yeah, I am in love.  And I want back on that machine now.


Ten days down -- 18 days to go...


Mean Mama

chicken stir fry

I didn't take photos while I cooked (time crunch on a week night) so I will just provide the recipe.


1 tablespoon of  cornstarch
1 cup of chicken broth
1/2 tablespoon of soy sauce
1/2 pound of chicken breast (cut into bite size pieces)
lots and lots of veggies (I used red, orange and yellow peppers and snap peas)
pinch of ground ginger
pinch of garlic powder

Combine the first 3 ingredients.  Fry the chicken. Add the veggie and spices.  When cooked add the sauce and cook until the sauce thickens.  Serve over rice.

This is what it looked like...

It was "okay" but not great.  Well, Ladybug didn't even think it was okay.  I think next time I will cut the cornstarch in half (leaves a funky aftertaste), eliminate the ginger (I am beginning to realize that I have issues with ginger), and use some pineapple.  It is a fairly quick and healthy dinner and if I can tweak it to my liking that we will have it in the future a lot.

Mean Mama

Smile, be happy

Ladybug has a few long term friends.  There is H -- from her first day care.  They met when they were 2.  They hit it off immediately.  And it turned out that H's father's job took him to Ethiopia several times a year.  It was nice for Ladybug.  And I really liked her parents.  Then she has B -- from her third day care.  Quiet.  Shy.  And really liked Ladybug.  I question the parenting of mom (not that it is terrible, just different then what I want for Ladybug).  But I think B is the opposite of Ladybug and a good influence.  And then there is M -- the daughter of my best friend from college.  They love each other.  They hate each other.  Can't wait to see each other and within 2 minutes they are fighting.

Last year I thought she was off to a good start at making friends at school.  P and H and A and C and Z...  Great progress.  But this year she was separated from all -- yes ALL -- of her friends.  I was disappointed.  Because she de-invested (is that a word?).  She figures, why bother if she has to start over every year.  I harp on her to make friends all the time.  She is starting to remember the names of her classmates -- 3 months into the year. 

She is not a popular kid.  Neither was I.  I never cracked that code.  And now I don't care.  But I look back on my life growing up and I know what is in front of her.  And I want to be easier for her.  I don't want her to feel like an outsider.  If I ask who her friends are right now in school she will say nobody.  And that is so sad to me. 

So I decided to look at why.  And I think I know -- because life is so simple that I can figure this out in an evening.  She is negative.  This might be something she got from me.  I am naturally a pessimist.  I remember getting a paper back from my 9th grade teacher that had one note on it: "You are too young to be this pessimistic."  She throws dirty looks.  She crosses her arms and stops her feet.  She huffs.  She puffs.  She gets angry.  She is bossy.  She is unhappy. 

So we are working on being happy.  Because people want to be around other happy people.  They want friends that make them feel good.  And she is 6!  It is all down hill from here.  Be happy now.  Happy!  Smile.  Laugh.  Be nice.  See the good.  Let's see how a naturally pessimistic person can teach a child to be a happy person.

Mean Mama

my little artist

Ladybug likes her art teacher.  And it shows.

And they all hang proudly on my living room walls -- in time for the holidays and guests.

Mean Mama

spaghetti sauce

One of the first things I learned how to cook after college was spaghetti sauce.  It was a staple for a vegetarian.  I thought it would be a good addition to my freezer food.

When it comes to Italian food -- I don't believe in sticking to a recipe.  You can change things up.  So this is what I started with.

You may notice a few odd things and a few cheats.  First, it was right about at this time that I was sad that I did not have an olive oil in my kitchen.  How is it possible I have none?  Second you will notice that I cheat with 2 ingredients.  First, I bought sliced mushrooms.  I love mushrooms.  But I hate cutting them.  So I bought them pre-sliced.  Second, that jar in the front is pre-minced garlic.  Generally speaking I love garlic (except for the year following when a friend made me a garlic soup with 40 cloves of garlic to help me get over a cold).  What I hate is the smell of garlic on my hands.  It takes days to get rid of the smell.  So I buy jars of it.  Works the same.

The odd things are the lemon juice and honey.  In Italian food?  Absolutely.  They are my secret (she says on a blog) ingredients.  Tangy and sweet.

Keep in mind, I refuse to use a measuring spoon when cooking Italian.  Taste a lot.  Do what you like.  And experiment the next time.

Cook the onion and garlic while chopping up the rest of the veggies.

I like to use broccoli because it adds so much.  And it is one of Ladybug's favorite veggies.

I also use plum tomatoes.  I like the plum tomatoes because they are a meatier tomato.  But if I wanted to be lazy (which has been known to happen around here) I am not opposed to using canned diced tomatoes.  I also add the spices in at this point.

I then added the mushrooms and tomatoes to the onions and garlic.

I love mushrooms and tomatoes.  Should I be worried that Ladybug doesn't?

I also opted for peppers.

And add all veggies to the pot.

Time to add the sauce.  Do not use already prepared sauce.  Do not use ketchup.

How can anybody resist this?  It reminds me of a story my grandmother told me.  She was a good Irish Catholic girl growing up in upstate New York.  She met a nice Italian boy and had dinner at his house.  She went home raving about Italian food.  Her mother agreed to make spaghetti for her.  She cooked some noodles and poured a can of tomato soup over it.  This is not my grandmother's spaghetti sauce.

Pasta anyone?

And for those who love meat -- add ground beef or sausage.  I like it without.

Mean Mama

Changing eating habits

In one of previous posts I mentioned that we would be changing a few things in my life in order to make it better.  Today my body is aching from the exercise part of it.  And sometimes it is important to take a day off.  No exercise for me today.  But I do need to finish with all my preparations for the start.  Tomorrow I can start.

One of the things I said was that we would be eating dinner at the table every night.  This may seem basic to some--but not all as some people always eat in front of the TV.  The real problem is that this is what my kitchen table looked like when I wrote those words...

Not really a lot of room to eat.  It is suppose to seat 6 comfortably but I am pretty sure it wouldn't fit one in that condition.  I have been working on it this week.  Still not in photograph condition but it will be by the end of the day.

The other things that has changed dramatically since last weekend was my freezer. This required 2 things.  First, this is what my freezer looked like at the beginning of last weekend.

This is probably a fairly common American freezer.  But not exactly what I want in my freezer now.  So I had to first empty the freezer.  I had to eat what was in my freezer.  I had to get rid of the junk.  To make room for all the wonderful new food I was cooking for healthy options.

The second thing I had to do was cook...which from previous posts you can see that I have been doing that.  And today, this is what my freezer looks like.

Much better!

Chili, spaghetti sauce (cooking blog coming soon), and 4 Ethiopian dishes.  I also bought things for an easy chicken stir fry that won't require freezing.  I will be making cornbread muffins tonight.  But I need more recipes because I plan on keeping the freezer stocked.  Please leave me your favorite "picky eater" freezable recipes so I can keep this up. 

Let the healthy eating begin!  I promised Ladybug Ethiopian tomorrow.

Mean Mama

Stop the human trafficking

Human trafficking a serious topic.  It should never happen.  Potential adoptive families can do things to protect against this.  When PAPs make specific demands on their requests for children they potentially contribute to the issue of unethical adoptions and human trafficking.  It is easy to say that "I want..." and think how can one person influence the world of adoption so much.  But when all the PAPs do that, they can.  Supply and demand. 

Most adoptive families want young children.  And by young I mean under 12 months.  I remember reading a blog some time ago where a woman was waiting for her child (international adoption).  The child was under 12 months at the time of referral but because of complications the child was now over 12 months and she was now questioning whether she wanted to bring this child home. 

Most adoptive families want girls.  I have never heard a reason why most want it.  I wanted a girl.  I asked for a girl.  That was before I understood.  People will wait for an infant girl to be born.  Wait and leave other children waiting for families.  Supply and demand.  When you adopt internationally and say you are looking for a girl under 12 months old, some agencies will go "shopping" for you.  That is when we run the risk of contributing to human trafficking.

But this week I stumbled on to a facebook page.  A friend posted on it.  So I visited it.  It was obviously someone from Ethiopia.  It was obviously someone who had strong feelings.  It was obviously somebody who does not believe in international adoption.  Essentially they accused Americas of buying Ethiopian children.  As a mom who has already faced similar type questions from my daughter, it got my hackles up.  This person went further.  This person (and I did not dig deep enough to discover if it was a man or a woman) had taken photos they had found on other facebook pages of happy families with children adopted from Ethiopia and published them on their page.  Branding them as human traffickers. 

I wanted to post on the page -- but I knew it would fall on deaf ears.  I did not buy my child.  I paid an agency and attorney to facilitate the process.  Just as a pregnant woman pays a doctor to facilitate the gestation and birthing process.  I did not steal someone's child.  She was relinquished (by a terminally ill parent).  She was in an orphanage by the time she was referred to me.  Me or an orphanage -- which is better.  My first question when I got her information was, "Is there nobody in her family who can care for her?" 

Every child deserves the right to stay in their biological family.  Every child deserves the right to stay in their original country and culture.  Sometimes life interferes with those things.  Sometimes a child needs a new family.  Sometimes that family will mean a new country and/or culture.  Just make sure you are not the reason that a child needs this.  Pick a child that needs you.  Not a child you need.

Mean Mama

Doro Alicha

The dish that everyone who eats Ethiopian food will know is Doro Wat -- spiced chicken.  But I am a wimp - way too spicy for me.  So today I give Doro Alicha.

You start with these ingredients:

Ignore the anaheim pepper.  I did not use it for this recipe.  I used it in something else.

Start out by soaking the chicken in lime water.  Sounds gross but it works.  I have issues with raw chicken.  I soaked for 24 hours. The recipe calls for using a whole chicken that you cut up.  I used breast only and cut into bite size pieces.

When you are ready to start cooking -- onions again.

And then add the butter.

And the spices.

Then add the chicken.  Which I apparently did not photograph.  The recipe then call for adding water and simmering it down.  I always the water.  And I always regret it.  Maybe a little is good but I always add too much. 

And this is what I ended up with to put in my freezer.

If you want to turn it into a Wat dish -- add berbere.  The recipe calls for 1 cup -- I am a wimp and would do about 1/4 cup.  Also add Bishops weed and cardamom.  The recipe also calls for hard boiled eggs but they don't freeze well so I didn't add them.

And now that I am done cooking Ethiopian food the house smells like Ethiopian food all the time.  I love the smell -- but after 6 days I am getting sick of it (and so is Ladybug).

Mean Mama