MammaSteph's Musings

Sleepy-time Sissy Steph

2009-05-18T21:46:00.002-04:00

A sissy is a person regarded as weak or cowardly. That just about sums up my disposition when it comes to sleep habits in my family.

As I type this, I currently have both my children in their respective rooms...sobbing...respectively. Why? Because I'm a sleepy-time sissy.

When they were teeny tiny babies, both posed problems with respect to sleep. One was colicky, while the other had GERD. In order to get some much-needed shut-eye, I'd let them sleep with me. As John Lennon once said, "Whatever gets you through the night"...and that quickly became my motto.

Fast forward to now & I think I've been way too lax. Getting the kids to sleep in their own beds is a constant battle of wills. Lately, their wills appear to be much stronger than my own. I've accommodated their whims: they lie down with me in my bed, I shuttle myself between all beds, they lie down on the sofa when it's not a school night until they conk out, etc. But tonight, I'm gonna win this. I don't care if I have to pop extra-ultra-mega-strength ibuprofen! I'm reclaiming my bed! And I'm not going to drag my sorry butt out of my toasty-warm haven at 3:34am when either child starts whining about needing me to lie down with them because they're having a dream about SpongeBob SquarePants (though I must confess to finding him rather creepy as well). Nope! I'm staying in my room. They'll have to cry it out. That's all there is to it. Finito.

Am I being mean? I feel mean. I'm not mean, am I?

They're still crying... In the amount of time it's taken me to type these paragraphs, they're still crying.

I'm not going to break my resolve. Mind you, it may be a different story if this continues on for another 2 hours. Well see...

Mamma Steph's Saturday-Night Pizzeria

2009-05-02T19:49:00.006-04:00

I blogged about crying over a piece of dough around Easter last year. It's happened again. I sobbed. Tears of joy streaming down my face. Joy abounds!

In the past few weeks, we've had earthquakes levelling towns in Abruzzo, the swine flu pandemic, a small earthquake in L.A., wildfires spreading in Halifax, and a few attempts by yours truly at homemade pizza dough which resulted in something similar to cardboard. Actually, I'm exaggerating a bit. My attempts tasted more like construction paper, with a hint of salt.

But then came The Sopranos Family Cookbook as compiled by Artie Bucco. Sounds like I'm putting you on, doesn't it? It's actually a decent reference point for traditional Italian cuisine. The zeppole in the Bobby Baccala section were to die for! So after sifting through recipes from Epicurious, Allrecipes, The Food Network & more, I picked up my Sopranos cookbook after quite the hiatus. Here's the recipe for the perfect homemade pizza dough, aka "Ah' Beetz'" adapted from Charmaine Bucco's section entitled, "Cooking for the whole famiglia":

"Ah' Beetz'"

1 envelope dry active yeast (or 2 1/2 tsp)
1 1/3 cups warm water (105 - 115 degrees F)
1 tsp sugar (not listed in the recipe, but my mom told me to do it, so I did!)
3 1/2 - 4 cups all purpose flour (I used 3 1/2)
2 tsp salt
2 tbsp olive oil (again, this wasn't called for in the recipe, but I added it anyway with great results)

In a bowl, stir together water & sugar. Sprinkle the yeast over the water & let it stand for 1 minute, or until the yeast is creamy. Stir until the yeast dissolves.

In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt. Add the yeast mixture & olive oil & stir until soft dough forms. It may not all come together, so I dumped it out onto a board & began kneading it all together. Knead the dough for 10 minutes or so - until becomes smooth & elastic.

Lightly coat a large bowl with olive oil. Place the dough in the bowl, turning it once to oil the top. Cover with a clean, damp dishtowel & place in a warm, draft free place. I like to set the oven the the lowest temp beforehand & then turn it off. This gives the oven enough warmth to allow the dough to rise. Leave it in the oven for 1 - 1/2 hours, until it doubles in volume.

Lightly grease a large pizza pan (I used the jellyroll-style pan). Punch down the dough in the bowl, then transfer to the pizza pan. Stretch out the dough, then loosely cover again with plastic wrap & let it rise for 1/2 an hour - 1 hour so that it becomes puffy.

Top with your favourite toppings. I like mine simple - fresh, homemade tomato sauce, fresh basil leaves, mozzarella di buffala or fior di latte (Santa Lucia brand is fantastic!!!).

Bake in an oven, preheated to 450 degrees C for about 20 minutes.

Enjoy!!!!

Sprinkle the yeast

Growing up too soon

2009-03-24T21:21:00.002-04:00

At 10pm, last night, I picked up a recorded message from my daughter's school principal. The news was bad. Not "Your daughter clocked a kid" kinda bad. This was indescribably bad. A student in the school had died & families were being advised that there would be grief counsellors at the school over the next few days. I told you in was indescribably bad.

I mulled this over in my head for a while. How do I explain what's happened to my children? Will I frighten them if I try to explain this first thing in the morning, before school? I decided to let it play out on its own. I didn't have enough information to deal with the situation properly. Did my daughter know the student? Was it someone in her class? Was it an accident that occurred at school? Was the child ill? So many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, so I let it be. I filed it under my "to dos", to be handled after I had contacted the school for more information.

The receptionist only told me that the young boy was in the 4th grade. It happened at school. A note would be sent home to advise us of when the memorial service would take place. I didn't have the heart to ask any further questions. I'd find a way to explain this with the information I had...once I got home from work.

I asked my daughter how her day went, prepared to discuss the loss of a fellow student, but she beat me to it. "Mommy, it was a sad day today. A boy in my school died. Mrs. Peacock told us & we had a special guest come to tell about the boy who died." Her eyes were wide & full of question. She looked as though she needed to hear that even though this poor child was taken away far too soon, that things would turn out okay. I wasn't quite prepared to tell her that & fluff it over. No, she had been exposed to the fragility of life & there was no going back. I held her close & prepared myself to deal with an onslaught of questions, but there was only silence.

I still remember the first time I was exposed to death. I was the same age as my daughter & my cousin, who was only a year older, had passed away. I remember the tears & uncertainty. That day, I grew up a little. I remember that feeling & wish so much that I could protect my children from it. Sadly, I cannot. All the bubble-wrap in the world won’t protect them from the hurts to come. All the camomile tea in the world won’t sedate me enough to make it through this part of parenthood unscathed.

And through all these emotions & questions, I send my prayers of comfort to a family who lost their little boy...friends who lost a buddy...a school that will always remember the time a shadow befell it, one tragic March day.

Zeppole Time!!!

2009-02-26T12:27:00.003-05:00

These months are renowned for the depressing weather & constant onslaught of snow, snow & more snow. Fortunately, we have the return of "zeppole"! The production of these tasty treats usually starts around the beginning of February & ends around the feast of St. Giuseppe on March 19th. Walk into any Italian bakery & chances are you'll see glorious trays full of zeppole.

The tradition started back in Sicily (or so I've been told). There had been a long & hard drought; farmers were at their wits' end with worry. With nothing more to do than pray, they pleaded to their patron Saint, San Giuseppe, to send them some rain. The prayers did not go unheard for it is said that the rains came along, quite heavily. In thanks, the people prepared a great feast, including zeppole, to honour St. Joseph. To this day, on the feast day - March 19th, zeppole are given as gifts, to be shared among friends & family. There are many markets in Naples that have street vendors frying their zeppole fresh, upon request. Yum!

The zeppole we know today are slightly more refined than those of the Sicilian farmers that prayed for rain. They're made of a bigne' pastry (or choux pastry), often filled with a custard cream or a cannoli filling that includes ricotta. The topping always involves a dusting of confectioner's sugar, a few dollops of cream, and "amarene" (tart, preserved cherries), or maraschinos. The pastries are either fried or baked. Everyone has their own preference. Mine? Custard cream & amarene with some of the amarene syrup! I don't care if it's fried or baked...just give my my zeppole!!!

That brings me to zeppole in the Vaughan region. Believe me when I tell you the trouble isn't in finding the zeppole - it's in selecting the place you trust to churn out the very best.

Where do you get your zeppole???

CityTV did a spot on Sweet Boutique about a year ago, claiming they sell "the best zeppole in the GTA". There are a few other places (some that may surprise you) that churn out some pretty decent zepps. Here's my shortlist:

Aida's Pine Valley Bakeryin Woodbridge
Centro Bakery Deli in Maple
St. Phillips Bakery, with locations in both Maple & Woodbridge
...and I'm going to have to do my zeppole research at Emily's Bakery in Woodbridge. I've never had their zeppole, but they have the most delectable breads in Vaughan, so I'm hoping the pastries fall in the same league.

Happy almost-San Giuseppe day! And if you have a recommendation for an awesome zeppole-experience, I'd love to hear about it.

What's in a name???

2008-12-26T12:06:00.004-05:00

I've been avoiding it for the past six years, but now it's time... I must renew my passport & while I'm at it, might as well take care of a few other documents. It's been playing on my mind ever since the ring made it's way onto my left hand... do I finally adopt my husband's surname or keep my beloved maiden name?

For all intents & purposes, I HAVE adopted my married name - just make things easy. Anywhere I go (my child's school, the doctor's office, the dentist, etc.), I"m referred to by my married name, but I clung on so desperately to my maiden name by keeping it on all my documents...except for one...my driver's licence. I must have been drunk when I went to renew - or in the throws of newly wedded bliss. I brought my marriage certificate & changed it legally to reflect my married status on the spot. But, rethinking the complexity of the official name change, I backed down on everything else.

Perhaps a part of me didn't want to change it. Why? Well, I've had my maiden name all of my life. From the moment my parents brought me home. At the same time, I'd like my kids know that mommy has the same surname as theirs & daddy's...in an official capacity.

You might now be asking, "So where does "Stephanie" come in???"

Enter Mrs. Fitali...St. Maurice, Junior Kindergarten. "STAY-FAY-NEE-UGH, you're name is much too difficult to say, so from now on, you'll be 'Stephanie'. I'm sending a note home to your parents.". And in my then-broken English, I said, "OH-KAI MEESUS FEE-TAH-LEE!"

That certainly didn't deter people from using my original Stefania. In fact, most of my close friends (paesani) will still call me Stefania or Stefa'. Others use Stephanie, but they're in the minority. And the majority will call me Steph (for that matter, Stef would work just fine too!!!).

So I could go back to Stefania, the name originally intended for me when mamma & papa brought me home, while the world still calls me "Steph/Stef" & all would be well in my world...except I still have to figure out my married name/maiden name dilema. Keep in mind, in Italy, women don't change their surnames when they marry... (YES, I'M FULLY AWARE OF THE FACT THAT I DON'T LIVE IN ITALY - I'M JUST SAYING, OKAY?!?!). I do, however, live in Canada & the same rule applies to Quebec. So...

I now face having to either change my driver's licence back to it's former state, or leave it as is & instead, change every other document to my married name. Bear in mind, that means I give up my original birth certificate & get a new one with my maiden name listed only as a nee. AND I'd have to get used to the new OHIP which has to be renewed every so often...whereas my old one is so uncomplicated!

I'm at a crossroads & I don't know which way to go...I'm very much waffling...can you show me the way??? We already had the debate over Christmas lunch & I left with an even bigger headache that what I started with. What would you do....and why???

I will keep you apprised of the situation...stay tuned!

Christmas spirit...of giving

2008-12-18T13:34:00.005-05:00

This time of year bothers me. Yes, I'm a bit of a Scrooge - but I'm a nice Scrooge. I don't dislike Christmas for any reason other than I think it's lost it's true meaning. Instead, it's become a mad dash for FRANTIC mall excursions. Ugh!!!

It took a 4-year old to show me the light...the one that's buried so deep beneath the tinsel & gift wrap that it's become quite dim.

A couple of months ago, my daughter brought home a letter from school outlining plans for a Christmas campaign. In it, parents were encouraged to reward their children with money for chores or good behaviour. At the end of a two week period, the child was to contribute their earnings to the "Gifts of Hope campaign through World Vision". My daughter was thrilled to be able to contribute $25.00. She told me that her class would be able to choose gifts for families in third-world countries - gifts like a cow, goats, clean water or books for school. She thought it was wonderful that she was helping children who weren't as fortunate as she is. My heart nearly burst from all the emotion I felt at that moment.

So this set the ball in motion... & I felt the Ebenezer-like quality slowly drain from my being. My family gathers together during Christmas & we exchange Kris Kringle gifts. We've grown so quickly that buying for all the extended family would literally break the bank. So, children continue to get gifts, but the adults get one Kris Kringle present. This year, I suggested that we forgo the gift exchange in favour of contributing what we would have spent on gifts to charity. Every family-member puts the name of their favourite charity in a hat & whomever's is drawn will receive the donation for that year. All this thanks to an idea from my daughter's school.

At the school assembly for the Christmas Sing-Along, my daughter & one of her fellow students had the privilege of presenting a cheque for just under $4500.00 to a representative from World Vision. She informed us that we had purchased a share in a well, a ger (winter shelter in Mongolia), dairy cows, goats, chickens & we had helped to educate girls in need. What an eye-opener. The things we take for granted...

Economically, things are tough. We hear about it in the news each & every day. Charitable donations have dwindled significantly this year. But really, what will I receive in a Kris Kringle gift that I absolutely need? And do I need this item more than a child needs shelter or water or medicine?

My family & I have learned a valuable lesson this season. Christmas is really & truly about giving - it's just a matter of rethinking the act of gift-giving & reconsidering the form that a gift takes - toy car vs. nourishment essential for survival. Once you've understood this, you've found the true spirit of Christmas.

I wish you & yours a joyful & blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas.

A gay ol' time

2008-11-28T09:35:00.004-05:00

Nothing ever really prepares you for the some of the questions that'll be thrown at you throughout the course of parenting your children. Today, I was confronted with a real doozy. I was asked to explain what "gay" means to my four (almost 5!) & three year olds. Oh dear.

My son & daughter were happily munching away on their blueberry Eggo Waffles when little brother ticked off little sister by informing her that it was his turn to watch Thomas the Tank Engine. She decided to hurl an insult back at him. I know she's not yet armed with an arsenal of witty comebacks like "you're momma dresses you funny". But she pulled one out of her hat & it came out like this: "oh yeah, well you're gay!" Hmmmm. Not good.

She refused to tell me where she picked up this this special little phrase. Certainly not in our home; we have many friends of varied cultural backgrounds & sexual orientation. It didn't come from us. I wanted to know who did it! I have an inkling...that horrible little kid who bit her arm last week. Must have been him. What angers me more is that she's in JK & only socializes with other JK students; one of them thinks it's okay to use the word "gay" in a derogatory manner - and his/her parents don't think it's necessary to correct this behaviour. Where's Nanny 911???

The inevitable happened.... "Mommy, what does gay mean? Why is it bad to tell someone they're gay?" Aw, c'mon!!! I haven't even finished my first coffee of the day yet. I didn't sign up for this. I thought we'd have this conversation toward the middle of elementary school, not now!

I used Ellen. Yes, I used Ellen DeGeneres. It went a little something like this: Well, gay is like saying you're white, black, Italian, Chinese, or straight. Mommy's gonna try to explain: Not all families are the same. Our family has a mommy & daddy as the parents; other families might have only one mommy or one daddy. Then there are other families that have two mommies or two daddies. Or sometimes a man & a woman love each other and don't have kids, right? Other times, two men or two women can love each other too. Then, there are other people who don't want to be with anyone & they like to be by themselves. All this was met with a blank stare. Okay, let's try this. Do you remember the Ellen show that we like to watch together? The one where we all dance around with Ellen? Eager nodding ensued. Okay, good. Well, Ellen is married to a lady instead of a man. And they love each other very much. So Ellen is gay. We like Ellen, don't we? She seems really nice & funny, right? She's normal, isn't she? She's not strange, right? .More nodding So, it's not nice to say to someone "You're gay" just to try to hurt their feelings, because there's nothing wrong with being gay. Okay? She nodded okay...as did my son, though I think this was thoroughly lost on him. They went back to their Eggos & I went to find myself a Valium.

Nothing sweet about it

2008-11-09T20:14:00.003-05:00

Sweet tables. They're a staple at Italian weddings & bridal showers. An event is incomplete without the very presence of a ginormous table covered with sickly sweet goodies, guaranteed to give you a stomach ache.

It used to be that the Italian mammas would spend hours lovingly preparing sweets to bring to the bridal showers of family members or close friends. These delicacies were put out for all to enjoy before lunch was served, and to accompany coffee & dessert after the meal. Nowadays, they're used more as "take-aways".

I arrived at a bridal shower today, eagerly eyeing the tasty concoctions that made up an enormous sweet-table. Unfortunately, said concoctions were all covered with plastic wrap or foil - so I realized I'd have to wait. Eventually, the meal was over & a member of the bridal party informed the ladies in attendance that plastic trays were provided so that everyone could take home SOME treats......AND THEY WERE OFF....such a display of gaucheness! Such a total disregard for the unspoken rules of the sweet-table!

Women nearly trampled each other vying for the prized first-spot at the sweet table. One woman lost her shoe. Another pushed her elderly mother out of the way to get third-place in line. Utter mayhem! I, on the other hand, sat calmly at my table, sipping my espresso & chuckling smugly. I would wait. There was plenty to go around. Right? Right???

Half an hour later, I went to collect my tray... and was able to get my hands on five cookies. FIVE COOKIES! And one of them was broken - or perhaps someone had taken a bit out of it; I'm not certain. Here's where the rules come in:

1. Never butt-in. Wait your turn, or you may have your arm severed by a woman eager to chow down on an amaretto cookie...or two...or more.
2. Do not bring your own Tupperware container - it's just tacky.
3. One tray per person, ladies! No one wants to hear the excuse about you making an additional three trays for your mother, sister-in-law & canary. Stop being greedy - there are other women waiting there turn (and I was one of them!!!)
4. Do not fill your tray to bursting - you MUST be able to close it. Not doing so will result in you looking like a pig.
5. Acknowledge that this is a gift. It is NOT your RIGHT to bring home a tray of cookies, so quit being so indignant about not getting the six almond crescent cookies you were eyeing since before lunch. Tough luck, someone else got them.

In sickness & in hell

2008-10-29T03:45:00.004-04:00

Hell. No better way to describe an emergency room triage after midnight. Hell. On. Earth. It has to be one of the saddest places on the planet.

Being the paranoid mamma I try hard not to be, I couldn't help but drag my daughter to emergency tonight after day 4 of ongoing fever/cough/congestion. Yes, I was told it was a virus & the fever could last up to three days... Well, 24 hours above & beyond were enough for me to grab our coats, a bottle of juice, some storybooks & hot-foot it to the hospital at 11:30pm.

...But first, I had to scrape snow off the car... It's October. This is unnatural. But I digress...

Everyone looks forlorn in the triage. Even the Jonas-Brothers-lookalike-greeter tried hard to look cheerful & welcoming but fell quite short of the mark. Some are truly desperate, while others attempt a sickly expression in the hopes they'll be looked after sooner than later.

My baby was a trouper, though. She even stood super-still during X-rays. It helped that I turned it into a game of "Freeze". When her "special pictures" were done, the technician gave her a an old, curled up sticker. I've never seen a kid so excited about a kitty in a field of daffodils, circa 1976.

So pneumonia was ruled out (thankfully!!!), but bronchitis is no walk in the park. She's doing okay, though. Worst part about all of this? Coming home to find my little boy coughing the same cough & running a temperature.

Here we go again....

Alone again...naturally

2008-10-24T14:04:00.004-04:00

I'm here to offer my respect & marvel at the sheer force of will of single parents far & wide. Never did I stop to ponder how difficult it must be to raise children all on your own. I've always been fortunate enough to have my husband share the responsibility of parenting. Last week, however, I had a taste of what it's like to go solo...and it left a rather bitter taste in my mouth.

How do they do it??? How do they juggle raising children, going to work, and somehow finding time to go to the bathroom?!? I'm sincerely in awe because by day number 5, I had a piercing pain behind my left eyeball & my mouth was filled with 4 cold sores (just my body's reaction to stress). Could I do this again? I suppose I could, but I'd certainly make a few changes.

I'll probably forget that I had reached the point where I was pulling out my hair, so I'm devising a survival guide - if ever my husband has to go on another business trip:

1. Don't be afraid to ask for help - parents, friends, neighbours - just ASK! My problem is that I have this martyr complex. I run myself ragged, then throw a pity party. Not a good idea. Going forward, when necessary, I'll ask for help.

2. Set priorities. It's all good trying to be St. Stephanie, patron saint of supermammas, but it isn't really necessary to make homemade play dough when there are mountains of laundry to be tackled. Pick & choose the most essential items on the "to do" list & go from there.

3. Recharge your battery. Whether it's an hour in the morning, or an hour once the kids are asleep, take some time to decompress. This should not involve watching reality TV or bad dramas (did someone say 90210?!?!). Just sit & relax...preferably with a nice, hot cup of tea or a glass (yes, just one...responsible parenting folks!) of good wine.

That's all I can think of. For now. Any other suggestions for coping would be greatly appreciated. In the meantime, I'll count my blessings that hubby's back & I think, tonight, I'll go for a walk. Alone. Naturally.

Costume Craze

2008-10-15T20:16:00.004-04:00

It's ridiculous, really. The amount of money we spend on our children's Halloween costumes is criminal when you stop to consider that they'll wear them only a handful of times. It's one thing when the child is whining & carrying on to the point where shop clerks are ready to call mall security. It's quite another when the so-called responsible parents are fighting over the last Cinderella costume at the Disney Store.

My question is this: whatever happened to making Halloween costumes? We used to get creative & come up with truly one-of-a-kind get ups that matched no other. Why are we suddenly so keen to spend $50 and up on an outfit that's usually used for a few hours &, more often than not, covered up by a parka (good ol' Ontarian weather at the end of October!)?

It's almost taboo to say mom or dad made your costume, isn't it? But I recall a time when purchasing a costume meant wearing one of those horrid masks that made you sound like Darth Vader & had tiny little cutouts for eyes. And THAT was meant to be upscale Halloween gear!!!

I recall one year...I was seven or eight years old...and I had just recovered from either chicken pox or mumps. Hmmm, or perhaps it was flu. Regardless - I had forgotten all about Halloween. That evening, Tony Cacciola & Nicky Battista showed up at my house, ready to go trick-or-treating. To my utter dismay, I didn't have a costume. Quick as a whip, however, my mother assembled a makeshift costume out of a burlap sac, a length of rope, someone's cane, a fake bird (taken from some God-awful flower arrangement), and tin foil. Right before Tony & Nicky's eyes, I transformed into St. Francis of Assisi. Oh yes, bird perched on my shoulder & staff (well, cane!) in hand. Original? Oh yeah!

Could you imagine some poor kid showing up as St. Francis of Assisi nowadays? Hardly likely. Things are too easy - too convenient. And yet, I can't help but surf the Indigo website & pick up my children's costumes online, only to have them shipped straight to my door. Bad on me.

Happy Halloween everyone.

Germ-o-rama

2008-09-20T21:34:00.004-04:00

'Tis the season, I suppose. With my daughter having started JK this year, I expected the odd virus, but not to this degree! Yes, many a parent had warned me that the first year was filled with plenty of trips to the pediatrician and I half expected it. This, however, is bordering on the ridiculous!

Last week, we recovered from a nasty bout of stomach flu. We didn't take it too well in light of all the media coverage about the listeriosis outbreak. We wracked out brains trying to figure out if we had unsuspectingly eaten something that might have been contaminated. Well, some things you just can't avoid.

Croup, on the other hand, is a whole other story. As I write this while lying next to my two-year-old son, I am seething with anger. I know exactly where he & my daughter contracted their croup...from my daughter's kindergarten class. Yup, from a boy who shall remain nameless. His mother, however...well, if it were up to me, I'd publish her name, number & address for her violation of the unspoken responsible-parenting rule.

I met up with "that woman" on Thursday as we were picking up our children from school & she mentioned that her three children were all battling croup - INCLUDING HER SON WHO HAPPENED TO BE IN MY DAUGHTER'S CLASSROOM!!! But she figured he was active, so sending him to school wasn't a big deal. Hmph! It's a bloody big deal to me! I'm running between both children's rooms to ensure they're breathing okay - running hot showers to steam up the bathroom - dressing up at 3am to get some cool night air - anything but resting. Gah! Her ignorance is appalling!!!

As a result of Mrs. Germspreader's disregard for her son's peers, it turns out we'll be missing my parents' 45th wedding anniversary celebration tomorrow. My nieces & nephews will be present & the last thing I want to do is be responsible for having my children spread their croup-bugs around.

So please please please do not send your children to school if they are ill. I won't begrudge you if you send them off with a runny nose but croup is not okay. It really isn't something you should knowingly spread around.

Listeria Hysteria

2008-08-27T12:41:00.005-04:00

And really, should we be blamed for being hysterically paranoid about the tainted meat recall from Maple Leaf Foods? Since the "scandal" broke out in the news, I have been wracking my brain to recall whether my family has consumed any of the recalled & voluntary recalled products. The only thing I can think of is a pizza luncheon that was part of a summer-fun rewards program at work. Did I eat the pepperoni pizza? Oh dear.

At the slightest hint of nausea last night...and other gastrointestinal symptoms that I won't mention here, I became near hysterical. Faster than lightening, I was on my laptop trying to get more information, but sadly the offerings came up short. With 29 cases being conclusively linked as of today, and an additional 30 under investigation, it's enough to make me swear off even smelling pepperoni for the rest of my life! This sort of reporting, however, is creating a state of panic. The facts need to be put out there: Who is likely to be most affected by listeria, what is the likelihood that treatment will succeed in curing the ailment, what percentage of people who contract listeria recover fully? We're focusing on the most negative statistics, and although we need that information, we also require the more optimistic facts. Please please please put those out there for the nervous nellies like me!

As for the blind trust we've always put into the likes of Maple Leaf Meats/Schneiders, well I'll certainly think twice before buying any of those products again. If you visit the JM Schneider website, you'll see that "J.M. wouldn’t make or sell anything he wouldn’t be proud to serve to his own family. He insisted on using only the finest cuts of meat, trimmed by hand, and natural spices and seasonings. He believed in craftsmanship and followed time-honoured recipes using traditional methods " Hmmmm...it looks like someone wasn't taking ol' man Schneider's insistance very seriously & fell asleep at the wheel. However, I'll take Mr. Schneider's advice & I will purchase only the finest cuts of meat, season them myself & server THOSE to my family. In a pinch, forget that processed stuff...it'll be all-natural peanut-butter-jelly-time.

My sincere condolences to those who have been affected by this horrible situation. I wish the rest of you good health.

Back to school blues

2008-08-21T16:41:00.004-04:00

It's more like "starting school for the first time blues". This is the day I've been dreading for just over four years - the day my baby girl goes to junior kindergarten. My heart breaks just thinking of it! Oh yes, I hear you hollering at me to get a grip & keep it together. Hah! Easier said than done, my friend. How can I possible get a grip when I've always kept my children perfectly coddled in my little cocoon? How in the world am I supposed to drop her off & say goodbye without a wavering voice and eyes brimming with tears? How??? There must be some sort of prescription med out there that'll do the trick. (Note to self: investigate prescription meds for moms of children going to school for first time.)

She's ready to go to school. She's been ready & willing for a while now. I'm the one who's kept her close - allowing her only a ballet class & a community centre art class. Those were tough enough on my fragile nature - allowing my child to attend a class ALONE for a full 45 minutes! They didn't even allow me the courtesy of a peep hole so I could have a gander from time to time at how she was doing.

Oh this is torture! Maybe a nanny-cam....yeah...that might do the trick. Or I could send her to school with a wire-tap. Yeah, I could be onto something there.

I've got to snap out of this. She's doing what so many other children will do, have done, and will continue to do - go to school. And I will learn to deal with it. In the meantime, I'll try to prepare myself so when it's my son's turn next September, I won't be quite so close to a nervous breakdown.

Wish me...uh...her luck.

My not-so-secret Rum Cake recipe

2008-08-14T15:03:00.003-04:00

It's perfect...well, at least according to me & my dad. He's put in an order for rum cake for his 70th birthday. Honoured? Hell yeah, baby! Who knows, I may even open up a rum-cake kiosk. Okay, that's pushing it. So, a promise is a promise. I agreed to post my rum cake recipe when I felt it was good enough to post & here I am. Before I begin, I'd like to preface it by informing you that it's time-consuming & ever-so-slightly nerve wracking. But please don't let that discourage you, for once you sink your teeth into this delicacy, you'll realize the reward was well worth it.

Steph's Rum Cake Extraordinnaire

Part 1 - Sponge Cake (taken from my mom's recipe)
12 large eggs
2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil (I use canola!)
rind of 1 lemon
8 teaspoons baking powder (I know it seems excessive)
2 cup sifted flour

Preheat oven to 350 degrees celcius. Beat together eggs, sugar, oil, lemon rind & 4 teaspoons of baking powder & mix well. By hand, stir in the flour & remaining baking powder. Pour into greased & floured pans (8 or 9") & bake for 45 mins to 1 hour (until a cake tester comes out clean). Allow to cool completely before removing from pans.

Part 2 - The Rum Syrup
1/2 cup rum
1/3 cup water
1/2 cup sugar

Note: If you like things to be a bit more rummy, be more generous with the alcohol.

Mix together all ingredients in small pot & bring to a boil. Stir continuously until all the sugar is disolved. Set aside to cool completely.

Part 3 - "La Crema" aka the pastry cream
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
3 egg yolks
3 tablespoons flour
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups whole milk
1 tablespoon butter
2 oz. baking chocolate (grated)

Note: I make two batches - one with the chocolate & one without because a traditional rum cake has a layer of each. You'll be left with some pastry cream, but scooping it up & indulging is part of the fun!!!

Place sugar, egg yolks, flour & vanilla in saucepan & mix well. In separate saucepan, scald the milk. Very slowly, pour milk over yolk mixture & beat constantly with beater or wire whisk. If making "chocolate crema", add the grated chocolate at this point. Continue cooking on low heat with a wooden spoon until boiling point. Then continue cooking for 3-4 minutes longer. Remove from heat &
stir in butter. Pour into bowl & press plastic wrap over top. Chill for 3-4 hours in refridgerator.

Part 4 - The icing on the cake
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1/4 - 1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Note: I use a whipped cream frosting becuase it's light. Some people prefer to use a gelatin/whipped cream method. My advice is to go with whatever floats your boat.

In small bowl, beat cream, sugar & vanilla with electric beater until stiff peaks form. Makes about 4 cups. Chill until ready to use.

Let's assemble this thing...
Once you've turned the cakes out of their pans, slice each in half so that you have 4 pieces. Place the first slab on a serving platter. Using a skewer or toothpick, poke holes all over the slab of cake, then begin to sprinkle it with the rum mixture. Use a spoon so that you don't oversaturate the cake. Allow it to soak in for a few minutes. Spread the crema over top (if you're using vanilla & chocolate, I use chocoalte on the first layer). Place another slab of cake on top of the crema. Repeat the same process (poke holes, sprinkle with rum), then top with vanilla crema. Repeat process again, so you're alternating the creama. Once you have the last layer on the cake (do not sprinkle the last layer with rum!!!), cover it with the icing. To make the cake truly authentic, you'll want to decorate the sides with slivered almonds or hazelnuts (I much prefer hazelnuts). Let it sit in teh refridgerator for a few hours. If you can make the cake a day in advance, all the better! The flavours will blend & the rum will soak through the cake. You'll be left with a little piece of rum-cake nirvana.

Good luck with the recipe...and enjoy!

Pump up the jam...

2008-07-14T20:29:00.002-04:00

Let me tell you how much I love this time of year... I LOVE IT! I love love love those juicy, fragrant little specimens we've come to know as strawberries. MMmmmmm strawberries - fragole - fresas - erdbeeren - morangos - Doesn't matter how you say it, they're sooooo yummy.

I've always made it a point to go strawberry picking toward the last week of June. Even as a teen, when most were way too cool to pick fruit out in the country, I'd put together a yearly excursion. More often than not, I'd only get one or two true-blue friends who only came along because they didn't want me to feel like a lonely berry-picking loser. I admit it, though - picking berries at 17 is kind of geeky.

Geeky or not, I still maintain the tradition. Now, however, my children outdo my level of excitement. "We're going berry picking" is met with whoops & clapping & jumping. Love it! I asked my parents to join my family this year at Applewood Farms in Stouffville & I can honestly say I felt truly happy. There's nothing like sitting in a strawberry field, surrounded by your family, with your mouth full of those sweet, luscious berries.

With our baskets & bellies full, we made our way home. While everyone snoozed around me, I went on to make jam. Am I nuts? No. I find it so rewarding & relaxing. Plus, there's nothing that comes even close to the quality of my jam on any grocery shelf. I hope I don't sound like a jam & jelly snob, but my preserves rock! Can't wait till peach season. Winona peach fest, here I come!!!

Italian Rum Cake...old skool style!

2008-07-08T20:39:00.005-04:00

How proud am I of my rum cake? From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I still tingle when I think of my rum cake.

When I get an idea stuck in my head, there's no shaking it. My idea was to make an old-school Italian cake. Chalk it up to a nostalgic feeling anytime a celebration rolls around. We had some rum cake at my brother-in-law's graduation. It was okay. So-so. It wasn't mind-blowing. Just "meh". Somehow, rum cake in the 70's & 80's always tasted divine and I decided to make it my mission to recreate the perfect cake.

I didn't appreciate it when I was a 7 yr-old & all the other kids had their cherry Duncan Hines cakes topped with fluffy vanilla frosting & multicoloured sprinkles. It embarrassed me to have agigantic, ethnic delicacy... sprinkled with slivered nuts & spun sugar from Uniti Bakery in Etobicoke (needless to say, Uniti is long gone...so sad). Let's face it, anyone under 15 will not appreciate a cake loaded with rum. But that's the way it was back then for a young Italian kid. Rum cake. Take it or leave it.

How I miss Uniti Bakery rum cake.

So I took bits and pieces of recipes I found on the internet & in my mom's recipe box. See, a rum cake can't be divine unless it is made with the perfect "pan di spagna" (that's a sponge cake) and my mom's pan di spagna is out of this world! There's a story behind it as well...but I'll save that for another time. End result, the cake was delish! Oh so so so good! I had it for breakfast, lunch, dinner & dessert. I'm going to have to refrain from posting the recipe, however. Nope, it's not quite ready yet. I still have to work out a slight kink in the chocolate custard portion of the recipe. I promise to post it later. Cross my heart.

To Sir or Miss with love....

2008-06-26T22:31:00.003-04:00

Those schoolgirl days, of telling tales and biting nails are gone,
But in my mind,
I know they will still live on and on,
But how do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?
It isn't easy, but I'll try... (Lulu)

It is only fitting to dedicate this blog to teachers, what with today & tomorrow being the last day of school for most students. For some, it means the last step in their formal education. And though there's so much to say about the last day of school, I think it's most important to recognize all the hard work that our educators put into the school year. What better way to do this that to write them a letter. I'll dedicate this letter to all my teachers...so many to mention....but here are a few: Ms. Fitalli (who taught me to speak English!), Ms. Docherty (who taught me that individuality is cool), Ms. Paul (who taught me perseverance), Mrs. Murphy (who taught me about compassion and kindness and instilled in me a love of literature), and all the other teachers who helped to shape me into who I am to day. Here's my letter to you:

Dear Teachers,

I am taking this opportunity to thank you for all that you've done for me. In the past, I came to you when I fell off a snowbank & ended up with a bleeding nose. I came to you when I pretended that my family was moving to Italy so that you'd throw me a class party. I came to you later to confess that I wasn't going to Italy & to apologize for making you throw me a class party. I came to you to let you know that I thought you were being hard on me in class. I sat in detention with you when you told me that I was being disruptive. I came to you to show you my latest attempt at creative writing. And each and every time, you gave me your full attention. Thank you.

I'm not sure you realize what an impact you've had on my life. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but I remember you. I remember you well. I can name all your names, though not your given name. Teachers aren't supposed to have a given name. Even though you insist, twenty years later, that I should call you Ralph, I simply cannot.

Sometimes, I even remember the fragrance you wore... If I'm walking by someone or something & I smell a certain scent, it'll take me back to your classroom. That's how much a part of my life you are.

I knew I could depend on you. Each and everyday, I'd head over to your classroom, and there you'd be - rain or shine. And, being only human, there was the odd day when you wouldn't be there. The class would whoop & clap at the thought of having a poor ol' supply teacher. I feigned delight as well, but it was unsettling not having you there. In other words, I knew I could count on you.

You taught me respect by showing me respect. One of you really went the extra mile by coming to my house to tutor me when I had been ill & hospitalized. You were my eighth grade teacher, and I was in high school. Because I had missed nearly a month of class, I was failing math. When you'd heard though the grapevine that I hadn't been well, you contacted me & my family, offering your help. You did this on your own time - taking time away from your family twice a week until you knew I'd pass my subject and you refused any sort of payment. Wow! You were so proud of me when I passed that class. At the time, I didn't understand why you were making such a big deal. I see now that it gave you a sense of pride and accomplishment. I'm grateful for this. Thank you so much, Mrs. Murphy. I will never forget you.

So, dear teacher, I'm so glad we met. I hope you accept my thanks and sincere gratitude. You're part of a special bunch of people... often berated, but not always appreciated. Ah, but I appreciate you. I really do. And I hope you have a good summer off...you deserve it.

Much love & respect,

Stephanie

Sucks in the City

2008-06-14T09:23:00.003-04:00

How can I possibly express my disappointment? HOW!?!? There we sat - friends from waaaay waaaay back, crying and laughing. We had been planning this "movie event" for a month. My husband was watching our kids. My friends had made arrangements for their children and husbands. WE WERE READY FOR SEX IN THE CITY! Wooooo hooooooo!

Sex And The City is more a bonding experience between friends than it is a movie going experience. Most women would agree with this statement. So there we sat, having the ultimate bonding & movie experience that can be shared between close female friends. Bellinis were most definitely to follow. I mean, come on! How could we not go for a drink that ends with "ini" after watching Sex In The City?

With only ten minutes left in the movie, we were still laughing and drying our eyes. The questions were plenty....mainly....WHAT HAPPENS TO ALL OF THEM?!?! The anticipation was more than I could bare. It was electric. Mara, Vicky, Vivian & I looked at each other expectantly - "does it end well????" - and then IT happened:

"Ladies & gentlemen, due to turbulent weather (yep, the boner used the word "turbulent" as though he were an airline pilot!), we are experiencing a power outage. Please remain in your seats until we are able to resume your film."

Ummmmmm okay. No problem. Thank GOD they'll resume our movie. I mean, it would be BRUTAL if they sent us home with a big, fat question mark, right? But holy-moly, this movie is just aaaaawesome! Oooooh I'm soooo glad I'm here with my great friends. This rocks! Wait wait wait....theatre-man is about to make another announcement:

"Ladies & gentlemen, this is the fire safety director (hey, why didn't he say that the first time when he sounded like a pilot?!). You are all asked to evacuate the building. We we are experiencing fire & safety issues (oh, so he suddenly became the director of these issues. I see!). Please exit your theatre & proceed to the exit door."

HUH?! WHAT?! So....that's it??? WHAT HAPPENS!?!? Bloody Queensway cinema! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!!!

Something old, something new....

2008-06-03T19:17:00.003-04:00

It's not every day that your children tell you they want to marry you once they grow up. It's sweet & unsettling all at the same time.

As we drove to the grocery store for sushi (yes, my children eat California rolls - no avocado for the girl - extra avocado for the boy!), my daughter professed her love for me & my husband, assuring us that she will marry us once she's older. My son, not one to be left out, piped in with a big "ME TOO, MOMMY! I MARRY YOU & DADDY TOO, OKAY?". Hmmmmm....

Don't get me wrong, I have toyed around with the idea of secretly crashing potential honeymoons & dividing my time between my children's homes when I'm old & gray. I'm not sure the "significant others" would be so keen on the idea. For that matter, I'm not sure how my children will take the news that "MAMMA'S MOVIN' IN, KIDDIES! YEEEE-HAAAAW!".

I suppose it's normal, though (no, not my need to leach on to my children for ever & ever amen). I remember wanting to marry my parents when I was little. At that tender age, all you know is the unconditional love of your mommy & daddy. Can it possibly get any better than that? I mean, even when my son proclaims with pouty lip, "I not you friend, mommy - no look at me an' no talk to me, okay?", I still attempt to envelope him in my arms & smother him with kisses. Unconditional love. It's no wonder they want to marry us....it's the kind of love we strive for in every relationship we have. Pure. Sweet. Love.

Maybe I will marry them...by having them build an in-law suite for me. (tee hee)

MammaSteph in Wonderland...

2008-05-31T21:04:00.004-04:00

It's that time of year again! Time to battle the crowds, wait in endless line-ups, pay five dollars for a bottle of water, and try darn hard to scrub Scooby Doo off my hand before heading in to work the next day. Yes, my friends, Wonderland is officially open for business.

I love love love Wonderland. I've been through those gates countless times, and yet, I still get a rush when I get past security & into the park. Perhaps it's just the amusement park atmosphere in general...or the mere fact that, when all's said & done, I'm a big kid at heart.

Only one thing thew me off on our latest visit. And let this be a lesson to anyone who reads this: There are times when the right thing to do is offer to pay for drycleaning. Here's an example of when you should do this:

Hubby, kids & I were waiting in line for the Taxi Jam ride (a roller-coaster for kiddies...but soooo much fun for adults too!). As often happens in long line-ups, we developed a camraderie with our fellow riders. Niceties were exchanged along with a few laughs....and then IT happened. At first, I didn't know what that splattering sound was, but once the shrieks of disgust followed, I soon realized that a young child had lost his lunch...ALL OVER THREE PEOPLE IN LINE. Yes, eeew! Double-ewwww. The eeewiest thing about it, however, is that fact that the parents of the upchucker didn't even have the decency to turn to the victims of splatter to apologize. Huh?!?!! Apologize, for crying out loud! One lady had to remove her sweater - totally unwearable - and probably had to cut her trip short. It was, afterall, a chilly night. I suggested she visit a giftshop to purchase a hoodie. But don't you think it would have been nice of the parents of the child to offer a ten or a twenty for cleaning or to put toward purchasing a sweater? Okay, granted not everyone can just throw twenties around. Understood. But, at the very least, turn these innocent bystanders & offer a sincere apology. Ugh! That behaviour, more than the regurgitation-fest, was the most disgusting part of the whole incident.

Obliteration of the blackboard...

2008-05-17T15:03:00.003-04:00

It's back-to-school for me. Oh, not as a full-time student, no no no. I've taken it upon myself to "étudier le français". It's a weekly three-hour lesson, and I must say, I'm pretty excited about it.

School isn't what it used to be, however. Keep in mind that I haven't been in school for over 14 years (yikes!). Back in the old days, we couldn't register online because the Internet wasn't so widely used. Now that you've got some background, I'll proceed to explain just how I ended up with oeuf on my visage.

Mme Bellair told us outright that we'd have homework each week. Fine, no problem. She also mentioned that such homework would be posted on the BLACKBOARD for all of us to review. Fine, no problem. She then proceeded to continue with the lesson. Fine, no problem.

I sat there, with my notebook & pen (though it felt more like I was holding a stone tablet & chisel...HELLO OLD LADY!) & waited for her to put the homework up on the board. With only twenty minutes remaining in the class, I finally piped up to figure out when this assignment would be outlined on the blackboard. She kindly explained that I should "check back tomorrow, Stephanie". Hmmmmm....Not fine, big problem....I only attend classes on Wednesday. "Uh, Mme Bellair, how am I supposed to check back tomorrow if I'm not at school on Thursday? Can't you just put it up there now?"

Ready for the oeuf? Here it comes...

"Mais non, Stephanie! You LOG ON to your BLACKBOARD ONLINE and I'll post all assignments there. You DO know how to use the Internet, don't you?" EHEM...MAIS OUI!

So there you have it.... Now where oh where did I put my reading glasses and dentures?

Mother's Day Mania

2008-05-09T12:58:00.003-04:00

Don't get me wrong; I like Mother's Day just as much as the next mom. It's just that thinking of the day itself gives me a migraine. And indigestion. And sometimes I break out into a rash. Other than that, I love Mother's Day. Truly.

Perhaps we make too much of a day created by the lovely folks at Hallmark & Carlton. We've come to expect so much. Okay, I'll eliminate the "we" & turn it into an "I". Not fair for me to speak on your behalf, is it? Sorry.

I've come to expect too much. Those damn commercials with happy moms (who apparently wake up with make-up perfectly intact & not a hair out of place!) being brought breakfast in bed or rushing to get ready for their dinner reservations while putting on their new diamond earrings (a gift for only the most deserving of moms, I might add) won't go away! Why oh why do I fall pray to the wizards of advertising? I'm not a shallow person...not always.

The reality of Mother's Day for me is zooming from place to place, trying to accomplish the mother's day visits owed to our own moms (the deserve it, after all), while trying to to be too disruptive of my children's schedules (meals need to be ingested & naps taken) & perhaps trying to get in some time for myself as well. I'm a mom too, you know!

This manic feeling isn't exclusive only to Mother's Day. I should be fair here. I also tend to develop an ulcer around Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas & Easter. Days that conjure up images of laughter, food & comfort tend to give me a severe pain on the left side of my head & stabbing pangs in my stomach as though I'm being impaled.

That being said, maybe it'll be different this year. Never say never, right? Manic or simply serene, I wish all mammas a blissfully happy (or bearable) Mother's Day. After all, you deserve it!

Is it really the "better way"???

2008-04-26T12:49:00.003-04:00

The news upset me this morning. Just yesterday, I hopped on the TTC to get to a meeting downtown. You'd think I might have been able to foresee today's crushing strike just by looking at the driver's face. I'm trying to think back to how he smiled at me when I asked for a transfer. Was it a sincere "here you go" kinda smile? Or was it more a "you don't know what's gonna hit your tomorrow" smile? Hmmm...I'm not sure.

I'm not a regular rider. I live in York Region, so if I'm going to be taking public transit, it'll be a VIVA Bus. TTC is wanting to make sure that they're the highest paid transit facility. One of their biggest beefs is that Mississauga transit pays more. SO GO WORK FOR MISSISSAUGA TRANSIT...GET OFF YER BUTTS & GET BACK TO WORK!!! Sorry, lost my cool for a second. But I'm mad! Take some of the $2.75 I had to use for fare & divide it amongst yourselves & shut up about it already! That's right...it's nearly three dollars to ride the rocket nowadays. Bah!

I'm angry because this affects my grandfather in a most crippling way. He'll be 94 years old this May. One of the things that keeps him young is getting on the TTC Mondays through Saturdays & heading down to the St. Clair area to meet up with his pals for some bocce & card games. He doesn't drive & has relied on public transportation all his life. Guess he's out of luck...along with the rest of the city!

One thing's for sure: In the midst of this transit crisis, I sure am glad I live & work in York Region.

My mom & dad....they're the cat's pyjamas!

2008-04-17T19:18:00.006-04:00

I can't tell you how proud I am! My mom & dad are heading over to their local OSPCA (Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) to adopt a cat tomorrow. See the cutie in the pic? Her name is Angel & if all goes well, she'll join our extended family. I suppose it's not such a big deal to some, but you have to understand the background with my parents.

My mom & dad are Italian immigrants from a teeny weeny little town in Italy where the sheep outnumber the people. Pets were really never kept, so when I brought home a kitten in my teen years, it was simply NOT okay. Slowly but surely, however, mom & dad appreciated having a pet around.

It's been a few years since they've heard the pitter patter of little paws in their house, so they asked me to find out if there was any way for them to become the proud owners of a kitty cat without having to go through a pet store (especially with all those stories about about how they're bred & kept!). I turned to our own kitten's vet who referred us to the OSPCA.

By adopting an animal from the SPCA, everybody wins. Those animals desperately need a loving home, so why not provide one? From a financial standpoint, you actually do your wallet a favour by adopting from the SPCA, though that shouldn't really be your primary concern here. Your pet will have up to date immunizations & will be either spayed or neutered, and all for the small price of $115.00! I have a kitten that was adopted as a result of a friend of a friend's pet having a litter of kittens. My "free" kitten ended up costing me close to $500.00. Mind you, I would have paid 10 times that for my adorable little Chancho!

So my parents are doing me proud: They're opening their minds to a concept that was totally foreign to them only a short while ago. They'll be providing a nurturing environment for a needy cat...wow! You've come a long way, baby!