Confessions Before the Contribution

 Today I posted this also at Half-Baked Beauties.

When Half-Baked Beauties evolved, I was a new mom for the third time. My baby was just a few weeks old, born in September 2009 in San Diego. At the time, I longed for old friends, the walking kind of friends to be present in my life, as I had with my eldest in Virginia, and my middle son in Hawaii. But while I had family in California, I did not really have friends with whom Dr. Romance and I had a Together History. I was lamenting this just before B. dropped me an email to join this blog.

I could not keep up with every formula in the book. I was potty training a toddler, breastfeeding a newborn, settling into a new home after a move, and my eldest started Kindergarten. For the times I felt constrained to my house because of all of my mommy duties, I never missed any of your posts. I knew many of you in real life, and some of you I just knew as friends of friends. But during the months that people contributed here, I felt like I was connecting with old friends. And to be real, I was not constrained to my house. I had just started attending two small groups through church, in addition to the breastfeeding, potty training, house adjusting, and starting kindergarten.

And now our family is yet again in a time of transition. In the summer of 2010 we drove cross country to Massachusetts. My Dr. Romance has a one year assignment here. We anticipate our next move, yet to be announced, in the summer of 2011 to a new city, and a new home.

I have died little deaths with our moves. My attitude has always been, and will always be, I will go where you go, I will live in a hut in Africa. Still, I die little deaths of things that will never be. I keep them to myself. I dare not share them with my children, because I know my attitude sets the tone for our home. So I struggle with this whole concept of "home" and what my children will remember about "home." I die the death that they will not live in "the house they grew up in," that they will not have a neighborhood kid that has been their best friend since they were five, and on and on the list goes in my head. You can imagine.

I cannot say I do not like to move. I cannot say I love it. But I cannot say I mind. We have lived in amazing places over the course of our marriage. My kids have had some amazing life experiences, for their small ages of 6, 3, and 1. I could tell you all about them, but it might sound a a bit puffed up. Just know I am telling the truth.

So how then, do I build a home, when this whole idea of home is so transient and somewhat unpredictable for us? This book has gotten me to ponder such thoughts.

When I reflect on my own childhood, on the moments that were celebrated, on the memories I conjure up when I remember "home," I do not think back to a specific friend. I do not think of the house I grew up in, or that I lived in the same town from birth until I left for college. I remember long dinner discussions about days at school. I remember several side dishes to a rich meal. I remember my parents making albondiga soup. I remember burn marks on wooden spoons that stirred the avocado green skillet and vegetables chopped on the built-into-the-counter wooden cutting board. I remember my mother's moist chocolate cakes and oatmeal raisin cookies. I remember spring coming, and my dad in the back yard shaping our trees with his shears, and my mom sending me out to announce dinner was ready. I remember brownies made from scratch, and lasagna layered with love.

My kids are struggling with this concept of "home." Yes, we still own our home in San Diego. Yes it is ours but people are renting it, and yes, they are paying us to borrow it. No, we cannot swim in the pool in the backyard when we are home for Christmas vacation. Yes, it is still ours. Yes, when I say we are going "home" from Costco I mean the house we are renting in Massachusetts. No, you cannot jump on the couches because this is not our "home."

So how then, do I build a home for them?

Our now rented home in San Diego is large with multiple eating areas. Often my kids ate meals at the over sized island, longer than most dinner tables. This was mostly for my own need to multitask while they ate. But when we moved to Massachusetts, our 1928 Craftsman home only has one area for dining. This house is not even half the square feet of my home in California. But this new dining area has forced us to eat with one and only one option. We must all eat together staring into each other's eyeballs. It is a beautiful thing. I will never let my kids eat at a granite over sized island again. Well, so I say...

Building our family "home" when home is transient

This book I am reading now talks about Jesus and his thanksgiving at the Last Supper. But what strikes me is that there was a Last "Supper." There was a meal. Jesus knew time was short before he was betrayed. The next day he would go to the cross. He did not sit the disciples at an over sized center island, multitasking his last 24 hours. He sat with his friends intimately, around a table. He looked into their eyes. He dined with them. He spoke with them. He encouraged them. He shared his concerns, his heart, his expectations. There was safety around that meal.

This was my childhood "home." We sat around a dinner table many nights up until I left for college. It is the home I want for my sons. It is what I can give them right now. Together, Dr. Romance and I are demonstrating love, of listening to narratives of the day's events, and breathing safety around a dinner table. We talk about days gone by of babies, now years ago, of bite sized miracles and fountains of blessings in our every days. Everyone is there, all five of us, doing the very same things together. We are talking, laughing, giving thanks, and identifying blessings. We speak of important decisions, we ask questions, we make plans. We raise eyebrows, speak our minds, and offer apologies.  

Our "home," with meals here as the back drop for what is not transient, what is constant, what I will carry with me from this edifice into the next. Because those edifices are not "homes" on their own.


These thoughts motivated me to rise early yesterday and bake Banana Macadamia Nut muffins. I was remembering life on Oahu. I remembered how much I felt at home there. I was so caught up in the muffins, I had not even thought what else I would serve for breakfast. So in a rush job before church, I threw together mushroom and shrimp omelets after baking the muffins, and preparing my sugar cookie dough (another project). I had pre-sliced the mushrooms a few nights before, and the cilantro lime shrimp was from Costco. I served the plates and I shook my head because I had not thought through the pairing of my banana nut muffins and cilantro lime shrimp omelets. It was not exactly right. It was not perfect. But I am imperfect. And maybe my family knows that all too well. Regardless, my family was blessed. They loved it all around the breakfast table.

So now that I have confessed how I could not keep up as a contributor here, come back anyway and I will post my Banana Macadamia Nut muffin experience. I hope other contributors come back, too with their own recipes.