Four Rules to Surviving High School

My baby will graduate from high school this Thursday.



To say it seems impossible that this day is already here is another admission of the obvious. Every parent understands this. We spend all of those "formative years" trying to absorb and memorize every moment – every skinned knee (hoping it's the last), every heartache, every disappointment, every triumph, every success – only to realize that time marches on, and it does so at a pace that we have no control over.

My oldest daughter spent nearly 10 years being an only child. She was my prodigy, my Girl Wonder, the kid who was going to out-do your kid in everything, and she was the future superstar that was going to move mountains. I spent every extra minute I could trying to show her, through my own actions, that there was nothing on this earth that I would not defend her from. I was her Momma; no one was going to hurt my baby. Ask that poor girl in 1999 who I chased down the street. She crossed my baby, and no one does that – not even a 6-year-old. I kinda feel bad about that one, but the story behind it has served me well over the years, so feeling bad is only relative.

Since my baby started school, I have found there are four rules every parent should follow when raising a kid in high school. Of course, these can be somewhat refutable, but overall, they can serve as a pretty good moral compass in just about any situation.

1. Make good choices.
We all say this, don’t we? I can't tell you how many times my mother said it to me. And if you have a teenager, you already know that saying this will result in instantaneous eye-rolling. It happens, but you have to get over it and continue to say it. Say it when you drop them off for that first day of middle school. Say it when they walk out the door with new friends they’ve just met. Say it when they pull out of the driveway for the first time after they get their license. Say it all the time. They will get sick of it, but as their parent, you have to know that the more you say it, the more they will hear your voice in the back of their mind when faced with a difficult decision.

2. Be friends with everybody.
This really can’t be simpler. Be friends with everybody. Be nice to the person who wants nothing more than to see you fail. Say hello to the person who is sitting alone during lunch. When someone is adrift and needs a life preserver, throw them one. It doesn’t make any sense to not do any or all of those things. If it were your child on the other side, would you not pray someone would save them? Ask the mother who had to bury her own child, who took her life too soon, if she could say one thing to the person who pushed her daughter to the point of no return. I bet it would be, “Why weren’t you friends with my daughter?” Could you truthfully answer her?

3. Don’t engage.
Of all the things I try and teach my children, this is the one rule I break all the time. I engage when it is much easier to walk away from something and leave the burden of proof to someone else. There’s nothing harder than watching your babies struggle, but watching them defend themselves against their own hurtful words – when instead they could have let silence speak louder – is tougher yet. Just don’t engage.

4. Don’t build yourself up by bringing others down.
You can only learn this one after messing it up a few times. We’ve all been in that situation when the opportunity to make yourself look good hinges on pointing out the failure of someone else. Don’t do it. People will see you for the person you are without you trying to draw attention to someone’s deficit. We don’t know the internal battles of others – why would we try to? Instead, give yourself credit for something by singing the praises of those who helped you along the way. In time, that magnetism will come back to you. Just be patient. The reward is greater.

I don't have all the answers, and I've never pretended to. These are just a few lessons I learned along the way after playing Momma and Life Coach to my own senior daughter and, of course, suffering through high school myself (which seems like yesterday, let me tell you!). In my not-so-ripe old age, I've come to realize that my high school years were some of the best I've had, and I'm still good friends with several of my Class of '90 buds, but high school can be a social shredder. Enjoy what you can, and survive what you will. These may be the best of days, but I promise you the very best is yet to come.

Just look at my baby.

Make this: Tomato Pesto Grilled Cheese

Sweet Jesus. This sandwich will change the way you look at a grilled cheese. My grandma used to make grilled cheese sandwiches in the waffle iron for my sister and me and I had this brilliant idea to make one like she did when I went home for lunch today.

Except I didn't have a waffle iron. Well I did, but whoever used it last didn't clean it and there was cheese glued to every nook and cranny on the waffle iron. You probably guessed by now that we don't use the waffle iron for waffles in our house.

After spending 30 seconds or so trying to scrape cheese out of the waffle iron, I gave up and resorted to the griddle. It's only a lunch hour...I was running out of time.



I started with my most favorite bread in the whole wide world. This family from Mimbres makes it and brings it to our local farmer's market on Saturdays. It's sprouted grain and, in one word, DELICIOUS.



Slice a tomato. This one is also from the farmer's market...a rare vine-ripened tomato that I didn't think you could find anymore in the dead of November.



Smear two slices of bread with butter. I used Brummel & Brown spread, which is made with yogurt and has half the fat and calories. Bonus!



Next, you need basil pesto. I had some in the fridge from my last trip to Trader Joe's. If you're like me and you live in a land far, far away from the nearest TJ's, I'm pretty sure you can find pesto in any grocery store by the pasta. Presto! Pesto!



Spread the pesto on the side of the bread slices that do not have butter on them.



Don't forget the cheese! What's a grilled cheese without cheese? A crappy sandwich, that's what it is. This is a pile of mozzarella and Swiss that I had in the fridge from a rigatoni dish I made last weekend. You can use whatever you have, but make sure it's mozzarella. Translation: only use mozzarella.



Next, heat a griddle over medium high heat and place the bread, butter side down, on the griddle after it's had a chance to get hot. Arrange the tomato slices on the bread so that you're sure to get a piece of tomato in each bite.



Then pile on the cheese. Again, you can use whatever kind of cheese you have, but if it's not mozzarella, life as you know it will cease to exist. At least life in the sandwich world.



Now you're ready for the other slice of bread. Make sure you place it on top of the cheese with the pesto side down.



And flip!



Hello...I love you, won't you tell me your name? (Quick! Who sang that song?)

Happy Monday, everyone. You too, Jim Morrison...wherever you are.

Make this: Chicken Tortilla Soup

Yes, I know. Here we are, mid-November, and the last time I posted was in January! I promise...life has been happening all around me, and once again I can't take two seconds to document it. I'll let you in on a little secret: if I get hit by a bus tomorrow, go to my Flickr account and you'll be instantly caught up on everything in my world! Except for that bus. Chances are, if it hit me - I wasn't paying attention or taking a photo.

I made this soup over the weekend because 1) it's football season in my house, and 2) my husband makes requests for whatever he wants to eat on Sunday because 3) see #1. I debated between Chicken Tortilla or Albondigas. In the end, Chicken Tortilla won because 1) it's football season in my house, and 2) I make the decisions in the kitchen because 3) see #1.

This is a simple recipe if you have about 20 minutes to spare for prep time and then another hour or so to let it simmer and do it's "thing" on the stove. Soups all need time to do their thing...if you've made them before, you knew this already.

Confession: I wasn't planning on posting this, so I didn't take photos through the process. (Lucky you!) I'll just cut to the chase and give you the recipe. Like most things I make, it's all in my head so feel free to make it your own and adjust.

CHICKEN TORTILLA SOUP
4 chicken breasts (preferably on the bone)
1 cube chicken bouillon
2 tbsp. butter
1 onion, diced
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 jalapeños (more if you like it hot!)
salt & pepper to taste
1/2 cup cilantro, roughly chopped (Not a fan? you can substitute kale or fresh parsley.)
2 Roma tomatoes, diced
Avocado, diced
corn tortillas, cut into strips and fried golden
Monterey Jack cheese

1. Boil chicken breasts with bouillon until they are fully cooked. Remove chicken and cut into cubes once it's cooled; reserve broth. You'll need it!
2. Melt butter in a large stock pot over medium high heat. Add onion, garlic, jalapeño, salt and pepper. Saute for a couple of minutes until the garlic is fragrant and onion is translucent.
3. Add in chicken stock from the meat you boiled (about half of it) and then add about 4 cups of water. Bring to a rapid boil.
4. Add chicken, tomatoes and cilantro (or whatever green stuff you decided to substitute). You can add a dash of turmeric at this phase if you want a slightly yellow soup. If not, it will be clear as the sky. Reduce heat to low and simmer for at least 45 minutes.
5. Ladel soup into a bowl and top with diced avocado, cheese and corn tortilla strips.

From Kentucky, With Love

Back in the early 1990s, I was overcome with a giant case of The Dumbass and went to live with some close friends in Kentucky for a whopping six months. To this day, it’s the only real time I’ve ever spent away from sweet little Las Cruces, New Mexico. While I was there, I absorbed some of life’s greatest lessons: 1) you can’t run away from your problems, 2) line dancing is not as hot as you think it is, and 3) those Southerners sure know how to cook.

Right after I arrived, I went to work at a Winn-Dixie in the illustrious town of Radcliff (just outside of Ft. Knox). Winn-Dixie is a Southeastern grocery store chain, for all of you scratching your heads. Because they paid me just enough to buy a sandwich from Subway and fill my car up with gas, I also worked across the street at Baskin Robbins. They didn’t pay much either, but I ate my fair share of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream to make up for it.

I met my friend, Holly, at the grocery store and she introduced me to gumbo. Her mother made it, and before I knew Holly, I had never heard of it. In my head, I imagined it was a giant bowl of melted bubble gum that you ate with a spoon. Yuck! When I was invited over to her house to try it, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that gumbo is a hearty, Cajun comfort food that has become a Sunday favorite in my house.

Confession: true Southerners (especially those from Louisiana) will tell you that gumbo without okra is anything but gumbo. Confession: I hate okra unless it is deep-fried. Confession: I don’t make my gumbo with okra.

Yesterday was a bitter, bone-chilling kinda cold here in New Mexico, so I thought a giant batch of gumbo would warm everyone up. Over the years, I’ve tweaked Holly’s mom’s recipe to suit my New Mexico taste buds. Translation: bring on the hot chile!

Here’s how you do it: (Forgive my iPhone photos...the battery in my Nikon was dead, dead, dead!)


Dice up a medium-sized onion along with 3 or 4 stalks of celery. I like to throw in the leafy celery tops, too.



Then roughly chop 2 or 3 boiled chicken breasts. When you're boiling the chicken, be sure to save the chicken stock. You'll need it later.



Next, slice 2 or 3 packages of polish sausage. Set the sausage and the chicken aside for now.



Oops! Almost forgot...dice up 2 or 3 jalapeños or 4 long, hot green chiles.

Here's the important part: the roux. Roux is a funny, temperamental, integral part of your gumbo. It's like a gravy base, but you cook it longer and you can't take your eyes off of it! I mean it...not for one second. It burns in a flash and will ruin all of the goodness you're about to create.



Start with 1/3 cup of all-purpose flour and 1/4 cup of vegetable oil. Blend well and cook over medium-high heat in a large stock pot, stirring constantly.



The stirring motion ensures that every granule of the flour is browning evenly.



Ta da! This is what roux should look like. Some gumbo conoisseurs will tell you that roux should be the deep, rusty color of a penny.



Add to the roux all those veggies you chopped. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Pretend I showed you the 4 cloves of garlic I chopped and added in there, too. Continue to cook until the onions and celery are crisp-tender, about 5 minutes.



Pour 4 to 6 cups of chicken stock in the pot and add in the sausage and chicken. Blend all the ingredients together and add 2 chicken bouillon cubes and a bay leaf. Bring everything to a boil and then reduce the heat and simmer for at least 45 minutes or longer, adding water as necessary.



When it's done, ladel a heaping spoonful of gumbo over a bowl of steamed white rice. Enjoy! I know we did, just after I said a little prayer of thanks that my path crossed with Holly's. Love ya, Holly! And your mom, too.

Here's a copy-and-paste version if you want to print it:

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo


1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup vegetable oil (or any other cooking oil)
1 chopped onion
3 or 4 stalks of celery, sliced
4 cloves of garlic, minced
3 jalapeños, finely chopped (you can substitute green chile, too)
salt and pepper to taste
2 chicken bouillon cubes
16 oz. polish sausage (2 packages)
1 1/2 cups frozen or fresh okra (if you dare)
2 or 3 boiled chicken breasts
1 bay leaf
hot, cooked rice

1. Chop all vegetables and set aside. Slice chicken and sausage and set aside.
2. Add flour and oil to a large stock pot over medium-high heat. Stirring constantly, cook the mixture until the roux is a dark brown.
3. Add vegetables to the roux and cook approximately 5 minutes.
4. Add chicken stock and bouillon cubes.
5. Add chicken and sausage and bring to a rapid boil.
6. Reduce heat and add bay leaf.
7. Cook for 45 minutes to an hour (or longer), adding water when necessary.
8. Serve over steamed white rice.

Dorks at the Doctor's Office

The twins had a checkup at the doctor’s office today. Amazingly, they behaved rather well. Maybe those crazy Mayans really are onto something.

Our first order of business was to pee in a cup. Well, two cups. Both girls decided this was a strange request and after a lot of begging (and a little bribing), Mac obliged and did her duty.

Stevie refused. Homegirl is still convinced someone drinks it and she went so far as to tell her doctor one time that this is the reason she will not pee in a cup.

“Do doctors pee in cups, Mama?” she asked.

“Yes, Steve. We all have to pee in cups at some point. Just do it and get it over with.”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Ya gotta give a girl props for using manners only when she feels it might excuse her from something that isn’t really a request, but rather an obligation. Stevie is what we call our strong-willed child. (Read: stubborn as a goat.)



We started with the ceremonial Weighing of the Babies. Since their slightly-premature birth, we anticipate this part of any doctor visit like a lottery junkie waits for winning numbers. As the nurse slides the scale to the right, we wait with baited breath, fingers crossed and eyes fixed. The further to the right she goes, the more we rise up onto our toes. In my head, I’m a contestant on Wheel of Fortune clapping and screaming “BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY!” Only the money, in this case, is weight. And the winners are the ones at the top of the growth chart.

“Stephanie is 39 pounds, two ounces,” the nurse says dryly. I’m slightly disappointed, as the scale at home put her at 43 pounds last week. It crossed my mind to stick my big toe on the scale as Nurse Boring fidgeted with the slider-thingy up top.



Mac’s turn. I pull Stevie back to my side, and fix my eyes on the slider-thingy. BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! Nurse Boring taps it with her finger and starts to make a notation on my girl’s chart. “McKenna is 38 pounds, 4 ounces and 45 and a quarter inches tall.”

Now this is big news. For seven years, the girls have passed each other on height and weight, always fluctuating between who was taller, and who was heavier. When they were born, Mac was heavier, weighing in at a whopping 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Steph didn’t break the 5-pound mark when she was born. They were both 19 inches long, and looked like skinny spaghetti noodles. The first time Stevie passed Mac on weight the phones lit up like a switchboard. We called our moms. We called our sisters, our friends, our neighbors, and every nurse we could think of at the hospital in El Paso where they were born. It was big news.



Then the waiting game started in the examination room. The girls have a Christmas concert later this afternoon at school, so they were dressed in frilly dresses with perfectly-coiffed hair.



I expect by the time the concert starts this afternoon, one or both girls will look like they put their head in a blender.

The girls’ pediatrician came in rather quickly and did her routine eye exams, spinal checks, reflex tapping and overall poking and prodding. Both girls are pretty much perfect, aside from some ear wax we need to tend to with peroxide and water. Grody.

We were out of there in no time and made it to school only a little tardy. Both girls were stressed out their friends were going to think they were absent and therefore unable to deliver their lines in the Christmas performance. I’m sure Stevie was worried that someone was going to pull the rug out from under her and steal her part. She’s pretty territorial. (Read: possessive like a dog on a hydrant.)

Happy Thursday, everyone. Keep your fingers crossed the hair stays in place and out of the blender.

Comfort Food: Caldillo

When the cold weather hits, I go through a mini-depression watching all of my outside plants turn brown and die. My favorite is a six-foot tall mandevilla that peeks out of the ground every spring and dies instantly the following Thanksgiving. This summer was it's eighth showing. It's bright pink blooms are truly spectacular, and when it's time to cut it down, it's like chopping off my left arm.

Great soups and stews are a small consolation prize for bidding another goodbye to the garden. Today we woke up to a light rain and overcast skies...a perfect combination to stay home and cook some good comfort food!



This caldillo is my version of a stew my husband and I like to get at the truck stop by my office. I'm not a huge fan of the cafe there, but their stew is incredible, and the servers tell us truck drivers stop in just to eat it.

With big chunks of red potato, lots of ground beef and beans, you could almost stuff a tortilla with this stuff and make a burrito.



Start by browning about a pound and a half of ground beef. Drain well.



Dice up an onion or two (I stuck with one this time around) and about four hot green chiles.



Saute the onion and green chile in a large stock pot in two tablespoons of butter. Add some garlic salt and lots of fresh ground black pepper.



While the onion and chile are sizzling, chop up 6 red potatoes into 1-inch chunks. You can use regular potatoes, but I like the color these add to the soup.



After the chile and onion mixture is translucent, add 8 cups of water to the stockpot, along with a 27-ounce can of pinto beans, the ground beef and 4 chicken bouillon cubes.



Bring everything to a boil and simmer over low heat for at least an hour. Serve with toasted flour tortillas or crusty bolillos. Yum!

Here's a cut-and-paste version:

Caldillo

1.5 lbs ground beef
1 or 2 onions, diced
4 hot green chiles, diced
2 tbsp. butter
6 red onions, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 can (27 oz.) pinto beans
4 chicken bouillon cubes
8 cups of water
1 tsp. garlic salt
salt and pepper to taste

1. Brown ground beef in a skillet. Drain well.
2. In a large stock pot, saute onion and green chile in the butter. Add garlic salt.
3. After chile and onion mixture is translucent, add water, beans, bouillon, ground beef and potatoes.
4. Bring pot to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for at least an hour. Serve with flour tortillas or rolls.

Halloweenies

Sometimes I wonder if my babies will resent me later for choosing Halloween as their birthday. Many years from now, as they're taking their own babies door-to-door, I suspect it might cross their minds that Mom was a total ditz for thinking this is how they wanted to spend each and every birthday.

The truth is that I chose October 31st as their birthday in honor of my wonderfully beloved grandma, Lillian, who was born on Halloween. Ironically, my cousin (Mom's brother's son)also shares a Halloweenie birthday with my grandma and my babies. My grandma died when I was 14 and never got to meet the babies, but I know she would have gushed all over them.



This year, I dressed them in their standard birthday t-shirts and sent them to school. Lainey dressed up as a purple crayon. It was entirely a co-winky dink that they all ended up in purple...secretly I wish I could tell you that I planned it.



After the girls got home from school, I fed them dinner in record time and got their homework done. It helps to have costumes to dangle like a carrot to get kids to finish homework. It's the only upside to having Halloween on a f'ing weekday!



It's well documented that costume designers turn any idea into a slutty costume. For example, the girls chose the same one this year - a leopard. What happened to the spotted leotard, tights, ears and a tail? Do we really need the choker and fingerless gloves?! I suppose so, because I bought the damn things. They do look awfully cute next to our neighbor, Superman.



Lainey was a Hooters girl. She was supposed to stick to her Crayon plan, but the other Crayon never showed up.



My BFF's daughter was Dead Raggedy Ann. Pretty good, I'd say! And I just did.



Can you guess what my darling niece was?



I don't know this trick-or-treater, but his costume was one of my favorites. It also prompted my BFF to come up with new Halloween rules: You cannot trick or treat if you A) have facial hair B) drive yourself to the neighborhood or 3) have a beer in one hand and a bag of candy in the other. I made that last one up just now. Don't ask me how I thought of it.



The entire Anchorman news team showed up, too. They were awesome, minus Veronica Corningstone.



This is Stevie's "fierce kitty" look. All night you could say, "Hey, Stevie...show me 'fierce kitty'" and she would break into character. Genius kid.



Where's Tomi?

Happy Halloweenie (a day later),
me