Mom Jeans

Every Wednesday we get Time Out New York.
I read the sex column, which used to be funny and entertaining, but now it's just lame. If people can't answer their own questions about some of the things they write about then they should not have sex.
Ever.
I also read about the people they spot on the street. That's still interesting and sometimes makes me laugh out loud. A few weeks ago they had some dude with who had recently decided he had no real gender identity (okay) and twirled ribbons for a living.
Reading that was awesome.
Every once in a while I'll read about some new restaurant that isn't in the East Village or Williamsburg that I may put on our list of places to go. Particularly if they are above 100th street.
But lets face it, it's a big weekend if we make it below 59th. It's become our goal to do that once a month. What's the point of living in Manhattan if you don't live it up and take advantage of going downtown once in a while. Or Brooklyn or even Queens for that matter.
I basically ignore the movie listings, dance, comedy etc. I don't like to admit that, but, it is, what it is.
I don't really care.
What I did peruse in addition to my regular columns this week was the section devoted to this weeks magazine topic.
Most Stylish New Yorkers.
Actors, comedians, artists, and some drag queens.
Well. As I pondered over the contents of my closet I thought maybe I need an update? Maybe this is the issue for me!
I think of myself as maybe bohemian chic? Or that's what Michael says anyway. But that's when I really get it together.
And what does that mean anyway.
Bohemian chic.

These days my clothing consists of shirts and jeans from the gap, and a few pieces (maybe from some c list designer, my attempt at being a Maxxanista) that are wearing thin with multiple washes from kid snot and paint. Not just Ella snot,  I have a class of 24 little darlings that are walking petri dishes and snot machines.
So, can I take any tips from this weeks Time Out New York? Can I update my closet without breaking the bank? I think it may be already broken but that's another story. Can I realistically turn in my gap centric wardrobe for something more chic and sophisticated?
I thought the answer would be no. According to what I see in Time Out I'm a real dud. I am too practical a girl to wear a long dress made of lace and combat boots just because TONY said it was cool. I don't want my hair to be pink. Wearing yellow jeans with a tutu overtop, a flannel shirt and gogo boots just shouldn't be anyone's style. I don't care how much you need to express yourself! I exaggerate a bit, but you see where I'm going with this.
What is it that needs to change?
I don't care about what these yahoos say about fashion!
We have to stop getting Time Out New York.
That's it!
We are not hipsters who live in Williamsburg. We live uptown and have a kid. So I will stick to my skinny corduroys in navy that hide snot, paint and dirt remarkably well, and I will relish getting that one beautiful piece of a fashion risk every so often. Recently it was a furry vest. I'm not Ann Taylor Loft and I'm not Urban Outfitters. The Gap has good sales...I'm somewhere in between.
I'll read the get naked online if it gets better. And here's the thing THIS is New York, I spot plenty of interesting people on the street in my neighborhood. I don't need to read an exposé about a gender neutral ribbon twirler.

I am mature enough to know when it's time to switch from Time Out New York to New York Magazine...

Adventures in Snack Cake

Hello, My name is Carmen, and I am addicted to cake, cookies, and doughnuts. All manner of treats really for that matter.
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem right?
Well, I have a problem.
I love the chewy apple and warm cinnamon of the apple fritter. The buttery snap of a chocolate chip cookie, and the way the chips melt all over my fingers, and Ella's face. Most of all, I love love love the very moist, and tart taste of the most highly caloric fattening thing that you can possibly buy at Starbucks.
The lemon pound cake.
490 calories friends. Yuck.
Starbucks isn't my only haunt. A small upper east side bakery that makes fresh croissants, and amazing muffins is a frequent stop as well. So you see, it's not just the sweets. The croissants are a constant temptation as well.
My excuse is I'm still breast-feeding. I NEED that extra 500 calories a day, and frankly I weigh less now than I did before I was pregnant. I lost the baby weight and then some. But the honeymoon wont last forever. I cannot go on like this!
I needed a solution, and fast. I can see how this is getting out of control.
So.
I did some research. I looked up the most delicious recipe I know for lemon pound cake. Ina. The Barefoot Contessa makes an amazing cake that of course is far better than the Starbucks fare. I  looked for a similar recipe, just less fattening. Voila!  Google produces the cravingchronicles.com. A low fat lemon yogurt cake that just tweaks the Contessa's. Then I tweaked it some more....
I added some white whole wheat flour (yes mom, I understand the need for plenty of fiber) and choose not to make the glaze. I think next time I'll try using honey to sweeten, and use less oil. But I have to tell you, the lemon cake problem is solved. The texture, the taste are all that I could have hoped for. I have cut it placed it in zip locks and will arrive at work tomorrow with my trusty piece of cake in my bag.
Yes my friends you can have your cake and eat it too.
Now what am I going to do about that ice cream at 10 o'clock at night problem I seem to be having.....
One small step at a time.

Can he still be the King even if he is in Heaven?

Can he?
Well... King is actually his last name, like Smith, or my last name Keels. He's not actually a King.
Oh. And what was his wife's name? Coretta. And his kids? (I'll have to look that one up,) and his dad? Martin Luther King Sr.

The questions continued.

My co-teachers and I were blown away by the discussions in circle regarding Martin Luther King Day.

The whole time line of the civil rights movement, and when Dr. King lived exactly didn't seem to register, the importance of it did. That's the crucial part anyway, right? They understood that things used to be very different, very unfair, and sometimes dangerous if you broke the laws.

For the full day children I played a clip of the I have a Dream speech. They were speechless.
For the first time that morning!
They are a chatty, chatty bunch.
I'm not sure if they really understood exactly what Dr. King was saying, and I did have to explain that it wasn't a movie clip, it was real, just from a long time ago, before we had color TV.
They did understand that it was important. And that his dream was that we would all work and go to school together and things would be fair between African Americans and Caucasians.
And permit me to get a little political here. We spend lots of time belly aching about how much more work needs to be done for equal employment, marriage equality, heath insurance etc. Of course.
But really from the perspective of a child? Things are okay. In their eyes Dr. King's dream is here, and they are apart of it.
I digress....
We had covered with them the fact that if it had not been for Dr. King and others like him, I would not have been able to be there teacher because I was African American, and that we also would not have been able to use the same drinking fountain or bathroom. AND we would not have Barack Obama as president. It would have been against the law!
And that in the south like where Ms. Simmons was from the laws were even worse.
They were very upset by the unfairness of it. Being fair is really REALLY important when you are 3, or 4, or 5 or 35 for that matter.
The greatest excitement and ability to understand Dr. Kings message was through the songs we learned.
(sung to Twinkle)
Freedom Freedom Let it Ring
Let it Ring said Dr. King
Let us live in Harmony,
Peace and love for you, and me
Freedom Freedom Let it Ring
Let it Ring said Dr. King.
What better way to teach his message than through song.
Right? Right.

Pass the profiteroles please.

This weekend I embarked on my quest to find something to do.
Now.
I know.
I have lots and lots to DO. Needs to be done, places to go people to meet yadayadayada.
I have at least two and a half jobs, and that doesn't even count the mom job. But over the last year our lives have changed so drastically, so completely, and wonderfully with the addition of Ella. I have realized that I have been so engrossed in being a mom, and a teacher, and cleaning the house and... You get my drift. I've realized that all of the sudden I have a sort of void that needs to be filled, where did Carmen go?  I'm not unhappy, quite the contrary,  I'm quite happy. Tired. Overwhelmed sometimes. But happy. I just need something to do. I think most moms can relate. We get so bogged down with the everyday that we forget that we liked to do things independently of our children and partners. I used to not care back in the days when I kicked up my heals an sung and danced for a living.  Being able to do all those things for your job was plenty. But now. Things are different.

Some Moms push it aside, drink more, and get Botox. Some moms start businesses on Facebook. Some moms scrapbook. That's not for me. Too much stuff and i don't have wrinkles to Botox even if i had the money! I wish I could find a book club, and let's be honest most book clubs are wine clubs (yum wine,) and who doesn't like a nice glass at the end of a long day?! But with a book club you have to be on a group time frame. Trying to plan to be through a book by a arbitrary Friday night and then fall asleep on the train and miss my stop cause I'm so fried from the week. Nope. No can do right now.
So what what am I going to do?
I decided to take cooking classes. No. I'm not enrolling in the French Culinary Institute. And no. I have No desire to be in the restaurant business. And no, I'm not looking to cook my way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking and get a book deal. I just thought I'd take a class maybe once a month on a Saturday or Sunday morning and learn some different stuff, with a group of strangers.
So today was my day! French Pastry!
It was wonderful.
The teacher was funny, encouraging, and cooks for one of my favorite Food Network personalities. Her assistant makes thousands of crack pies at Momofuko Milk Bar.
And who wouldn't want to spend a morning piping profiteroles, rolling palmiers, and poaching pears.
I now know ( I had an idea) of how much work goes into puff pastry, and why even the fancy smancy cooks sometimes just buy it.
Here's the thing. I could have figured out most of these things in my own kitchen.
But it was worth the money to be able to ride the train without my baby necklace. Be in a classroom with adults (not four year olds) and just plain doing something that I wanted to do.
Now Michael, Ella, and our friends can reap the benefits of my class.
Sunday night dinner: Tuscan White Bean Soup, with spinach and cheese profiteroles anyone?

Happy New Year

I don't do New Years resolutions.
This year however being our first year of parenthood made me think, maybe I should do a little resolving. Certainly not to loose weight. The breast feeding has thankfully taken care of that. So. I resolve to write.
I want to write notes to Ella, to write down recipes that I come up with or tweak, or to write about crazy things that happen to me, my family, or at work. I want to write to remember. Because, since having Ella there is less time to remember things, and I find that there is so much more that I want to make sure I don't forget. Now since there is less time for remembering, I hope I find time to write. And maybe someone will want to read what I write. Probably just my mom, but that's okay.

For example: I teach preschool. The first week back at school the children were sharing fun adventures they had had over break. One little girl said. Well. I had a lot of sleepovers, and Lady Gaga fell on the floor. I thought Lady Gaga had fallen in a concert she had watched on TV or something. No. The little girl said, Lady Gaga is a chicken. We named our chickens, I asked, A live chicken? No, she said the cooking kind. Ah, I said. So then what happened. Well, we had three, Lady Gaga fell on the floor, Ostrich was in the cooker and Dillan was on ice. Ah, the magic of four year olds. I can't imagine what Ella will come up with when she's four.

For us, it was just exciting that Ella turned one. We couldn't believe a year had gone by so fast, and we are continually amazed at how everything has changed, all for the better. Except for the lack of sleep,but really sleep is overrated when you are greeted with a toothless grin at five in the morning, on a Saturday.

As Ella's birthday got closer we were peppered with questions. Are you going to have a party? Do you know you could rent out such and such space for only 500 dollars? Are you going to give her a "smash cake?" Huh? A smash what? Hold the phone. She's one, right? Like she's not going to remember this birthday? We will, but do we want it to be a reminder that we over spent and now wont be able to afford birthday's three, four, and five? Ones that she might actually remember and have friends to invite? Humm. So we started with the basics. On the actually day, Cake, Champagne, and a few of our friends. One couple who actually have a baby. Her "friend."AND an early celebration, for the Grandparents. That solved the 500 dollar birthday venue question, and the are you going to have a party question. Yes. But you're not invited, sorry. All these questions answered, but then the biggest and maybe even weirdest in my opinion was this notion of a "smash cake." Well. We didn't have one of those. She did enjoy her cake though, and it eventually made it all over her face, and a little up her nose. The party was a smashing success, it lasted an hour, and by nine-thirty Michael and I had a beer, watched our DVR'd How I Met Your Mother and fell asleep.