Tantrum

Today my son had three full-blown tantrums.  If you think a tantrum is a trifle. You are dead wrong.

Motherhood didn't "change" me at all.  I didn't become someone different.  In fact I become a radical version of myself.  Motherhood cracked me open and let loose the Pandora's box of my collective self comprised of my history up until the moment before I pushed my daughter into the world.  Pandora's box, let me specify, is used here as in something that seems like merely a natural rite of passage--woman becomes mother--and yet has far-reaching consequences.  It turns you inside out.  It turns you upside down.  It doesn't change you at all.  It reveals who you were all along.  Needless to say, this is not something anyone can possibly believe if they read it in a book.  Nor can they believe it even when told by a very close girlfriend who has become a mom before them.  It cannot be learned.  It has to happen when your tiny baby cannot smile at you or cuddle you.  She cannot hold you, but you cannot hold her enough.  Your arms go numb and still you hold her.  Your entire being is aware at all times of her.  You know that she is your best self and yet you have no way of explaining what that means in actual spoken language.  So you sing lullabies.  Off-key and without stop.

It used to take years off my life when my babies cried.  And when I say cry, please know that they can scream in what seems like bloody terror.  I felt my blood chemistry lose vital strength.  I could feel my skin tighten around my glazed eyes and break into lines.  It was an out-of-body suffering.  It was terrible.  And then your hormones stabilize, somewhat.  You begin to understand that the little one is vital and resilient.   You get more than four hours of sleep in a row.  Sleep, that is a whole thing.

Now when my son throws a tantrum at the age of three and a half, the Pandora's box is opened--here used in the sense of letting loose all the dark stuff from within me.  Yes, I know he is riding the storm of his emotions.  I know I am not supposed to take it personally. I know he is not trying to be difficult or hurt me.  But when he gets backed into a tantrum and becomes a raging, weaponized munchkin, I don't want to wait it out. Or hug him.  Or empathize.  I want. the. screaming. to. stop.  I want to dodge the bullet.  Or fire back.

I distinctly remember reading parenting books before I had children that addressed the need to walk away and cool down.  I absolutely remember thinking with total certainty that I would never need to walk away from my darling child.  Ha.

The problem with a toddler throwing a tantrum is that you can't walk away--they will follow you screaming and pulling at you.  It's a logistical nightmare.  Or consider when a tantrum happens while walking on a major city street, in inclement weather, with a slighter older preschooler also along for the ride.  There are serious safety issues at stake.

Recent scientific advice suggests that the best response to a tantrum is to do nothing.  Just wait until you have a tantrum on your hands and see how difficult it is to do nothing, but do it in a way that communicates your loving presence.  I would rather, at times, literally do nothing.  But I hope that is not what they best scientific advice intended.

I've had friends on Facebook mention days when "raging bitch mom" appears and they have to figure out a way to put her back in her cage or medicate her.  Or at least feed her.  This is what I did not know about motherhood, especially parenting a toddler (or two), the raging bitch is inside me too.  And it ain't pretty at times.  But, once again, it is back to the resolve:  wait it out, stay close.  Don't take it personally.

Today the soup had hotdogs in it!

Recently--as in a few days ago--a friend of mine started a blog.  Her first entries are wonderfully honest and revelatory about her current thoughts and feelings.  My blog, however, has long--as in since the beginning--been an exercise in self-constraint. A careful effort exerted to remain veiled.  Not to be too...bloggy.  The effort to be writerly instead of excretorious.

But that is mostly a bullshit endeavor, the whole, Only my mother is reading this.  (By the way, mostly only my mother used to read this and probably doesn't remember the url anymore.)

So, let's catch up.

It is now 2012, right?

Obama was reelected.  Romney was defeated. (What is he writing on his blog tonight?)

I am in Budapest.  I am seated at my desk facing the lighted gas lamps of Karoly Kert.  The husband is in Dubai.  (I am told that Dubai exists, but have trouble really coming to terms with that fact.)  The kids were darlings today, which should be noted as it is not every day that I can say that.

I am surprised by how much I like life in Budapest.

I still adore jasmine pearls after many, many years.  And today I learned that I have been steeping it all wrong.  As per the directions on the package from Teavana, I have steeped one teaspoon at 170 degrees F for three minutes, yielding two infusions.  Today I learned an alternate way to steep: one teaspoon at 170 degrees F for 5 - 10 seconds, yielding 10 - 12 infusions.  Former tea, a light brown color, the later produces an almost white tea which is very fragrant. I resisted the new method and almost refused to try it outright.  But I took the challenge.  I liked it here, and there, and anywhere. (Can still learn new tricks, in other words.) (May be metaphor there for youth and what comes after.)

I am confused about why General Petraeus had to resign because he had an affair.  I don't recommend extra-marital affairs.  But I don't see how his private life and indiscretions should end his career. I mean, shit.  That's hardcore and so, well, Let's all throw stones!  Not that I have been able to stomach reading anything other than the headlines.

This morning a woman got out of car and started down the sidewalk in front of us, us being myself, Iza, and Leo.  I immediately felt pity for her--in rainy weather she was dressed in high-heeled wedge boots, black tights, short black skirt, and short brown jacket.  Really, we had to go and endorse wearing high heels in winter weather?  That was a man's idea.  So, she was teetering and not strutting her stuff.  I pitied her.  Then my almost five-year-old (but still four years old) says, "That is a beautiful lady, mama."
     "What makes you say that?"
     "She has long hair, and tights."
So.
     "I also like ladies with short hair," I fumbled.
Then.
     "You know what makes a person beautiful?  A good attitude and a happy face."
I am sure she didn't buy it for one second.

My kids go to a Hungarian nursery school.  I am a fan.  I especially love that they eat a sit-down lunch with at least two courses.  Lunch always starts with a soup.  And then a second course of either pasta or meat and potatoes.  Sometimes fish, though rarely.  I am sure it is not organic.  Sometimes they report with a near swoon that, Today the soup had hotdogs in it!  There is white bread.  But I overlook these things because I think the lessons learned from a shared table with real cutlery and decorum is essential.  I have been to one of these lunches and it was impressive how the little ones behaved. Then I learned yesterday that the girls are always served first.  Then the boys.  Really?  Is this benign, old-fashioned quaintness, merely?  Or one more ingredient in an insidious pressure cooker of gender discrimination--against girls and boys.  Why can't we just go around in a circle and serve each in his or her turn?  In my humble experience, the Hungarians are very specific and restrictive about gender roles. As a mother of a daughter and son, I find it infuriating.

Please, don't mention the Princess issue.  That is a whole thing.

A Hill of Beans & Weanies in the Crock

The Beans:

1 lb dried organic pinto beans
1/4 tsp. black pepper
2 scant tsp. salt
1 tsp. Grey Poupon Dijon mustard (or similar)
1/2 c. molasses
1 med. whole onion, peeled

Soak beans overnight. Drain and replace water. Gently simmer beans for 15 to 20 minutes. Place onion in crockpot. Drain beans and put on top of onion. Add salt, pepper, mustard and molasses dissolved in 1 1/2 cups of hot water. Add enough hot water to just cover top of beans. Cover and cook on high for 6 to 8 hours. Check and add water about every 3 hours, or when necessary.  (Done in almost 8 hours, 7 1/2.  I never added more water.)


The Weanies:

Applegate brand, "The Great Organic Uncured Beef Hot Dog" (6)  On the package it claims: "no nitrates or nitrites added" and "no antibiotics, added growth hormones or animal by-products" AND
"beef raised on sustainable family farms in a stress-free environment that promotes natural behavior and socialization."

Bring a pot of water to boil.  Add hotdogs.  Simmer.  Slice and add to beans.

Recommended:  One-cup serving, paired with sliced tomatoes.  Perhaps a pan of Boston Brown Bread.

UPDATE!  I omitted the recommended 1/4 cup of brown sugar from the original bean recipe.  However, upon tasting the second day I decided to add maple syrup.  Of course, it was even better this way.

UPDATE!  I used the 1/4 cup brown sugar, tarka beans, and cooked them on the stovetop for this round here in Budapest.  Also I used the immersion blender toward the end to blend just enough beans to make a thick sauce.  Very tasty.  This time I also "forgot" to serve the organic virsli (hot dog) and the kids were fine with it.  Definitely goes well with sliced tomatoes. (April, 2013)

Leo's Three-Year Check Up

Leo:
31.5 pounds, 38 inches

Iza:
45 pounds, 43.5 inches

Getting Real

Theater for the Non-Native Hungarian

Ready to take your Hungarian to the next level? Indulge your inner drama queen? I am organizing a production of Szép Ernó's "Kávécsarnok" on December 1st. The actors will all be non-native Hungarian speakers. This is an experiment in learning and an exercise in fun! Actors/Participants need a basic ability to read/speak Hungarian and a willingness to stand up and speak fluent Hungarian (memorized and practiced!). Wouldn't it be grand to be able to speak complete sentences with grace and (dare I say it) humor? Here are the details: Performance (in my living room) will be Dec. 1. We will meet on Tuesdays, 5 - 7pm , in the month of November to rehearse. We need at least 4 women and 1 man. There are no auditions! Send me an email and I will sign you up! First come, first serve. We ask that actors/participants commit by September 22. Questions? Email me.

I Love My Ideas

Hello, Friends,

I have this crazy idea to form a theater production with non-native Hungarian speakers.  Interested?

Initially I was interested in the use of drama as a pedological tool for students learning a foreign language.  The memorization, use of contextual props and situations, as well as the elocution would all be useful.  Not to mention it is more fun than grammar!  

As time has passed, however, I have also fallen a little bit in love with the idea of how the theater can turn foreigners into Hungarians for the duration of the piece.  To be Hungarian, speaking Hungarian is a requirement, no?  So why not take us foreigners and transform us into Hungarians on stage.  I imagine that an original play can be written in this theme.  I could go on about the wonders of this possibility, but perhaps I will let your own imaginations take hold.  An original piece is quite ambitious.  I was thinking to ask Spiro Gyorgy.  :)  Shall we start on a more modest scale?

For example, I plan to return to Budapest for the month of November (possible staying through December and January as well).  What if we picked a text now and then put together the show in the month of November?  I don't have the details sorted out, of course.  But our living room would have room for a stage.  We could start there.  If we had the text selected and the students/volunteers/actors studied it ahead of time, we could pull off a show with 4 - 6 rehearsals.  

Why?

For the love of learning, theater, fellowship, and Hungarian. I can promise my husband's uncle's homemade palinka as well.  

And by the next year, perhaps we will perform original pieces.  And the following year, we charge entrance fees!  

Anyone game?  Suggestions for a text?  Suggestions for students/actors?  Volunteers to direct?

Numbers

Izabella at Four Years

Height  41.5 inches  83%
Weight  41.25 pounds 87%
BMI 16.9  86%
Blood Pressure 111/88 (Right arm, sitting)

Again, Paprikas

1 onion, diced
1/2 red pepper, diced
1 carrot, grated
1 cup diced tomatoes, drained
1 tablespoon paprika
4 legs, 4 thights (skin removed)
2 teaspoons salt
I tried my mother-in-laws thickener but felt it was not successful.  So I ended up removing the chicken and boiled down the sauce.  I then poured it over the chicken to serve.

This was the most successful iteration yet.  Thighs are definitely juicier than breasts.  Just saying.

Paprikas A Third Time

The third attempt at this recipe was a step backward.  The paprika tasted harsh, a bit bitter.

The only major difference I made was to include an entire can of diced tomatoes, which I did only because I hate to waste half a can of tomatoes.  Perhaps it was too much acidity.  Also my attempts have not thickened properly.  Perhaps I might have to try a roux instead of my mother-in-law's thickener with egg yolk, flour, and milk.  

Also we are in agreement that the paprikas would be better with thighs and breast meat on the bone.  The skinless chicken breasts end up being too tough.  We think that the chicken should melt into the sauce.  So perhaps next time I'll go back to 7 ounces of diced tomatoes and use thighs instead, as well as a roux to thicken it.

1 onion

1/2 large red pepper

1 large carrot

3 large chicken breasts (1.8 pounds)

1 can diced tomatoes (14 ounces, drained of liquid)

1 teaspoon sweet paprika

20 minute simmer

add thickener, strained
1 teaspoon salt

Paprikas Waban Style

I have just completed my second attempt at chicken paprikas and have revised the recipe thus:

1 onion
1/2 large red pepper
1 large carrot
3 large chicken breasts (1.8 pounds)
half a can of diced tomatoes (7 ounces, drained of liquid)
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
20 minute simmer
add thickener, strained
1 teaspoon salt