I had the pleasure of being a part of the Expressing Motherhood cast for a third time this past month. Originally, I wasn’t going to share my piece online because as much as I pride myself on my openness, I know some things are too much. However, it was pretty damn freeing to share with a bunch of strangers and also well-received, so why not with my online community? 😬
A huge thank you to everyone who came to see it live this time around, and especially to Lindsay Kavet for giving me a little soapbox.
“You’re way too into being a mom,” my childless girlfriend said.
“No, I’m not! I really don’t like it sometimes,” I rebuked.
But as soon as the comment fell out of my mouth, I felt stupid for saying it. It may be true that I want to pull out my hair more than half the time, but Im not sure I need to justify my writing, talking, or sharing about motherhood to anyone.
The next time a different person said the same thing to me I simply replied, “No, I’m not.”
Then I continued to listen to him regale me about his childhood & favorite movies for the next two hours.
Neither “You’re way too into movies,”
“You’re way into yourself,” came out of my mouth, although perhaps it should have (in a well-meaning way 😬😂).
Yet, this is the message women receive: motherhood is so important we should stop what we’re doing in our own lives to enter it. And how we handle these roles could potentially create the next DaVinci or Dahmer. But, we can’t talk about it too much.
It’s not something we can complain about.
It’s not even something we can even really celebrate.
It’s just what we are supposed to do.
Wrong. Mum is no longer the word – we will not go quietly. We will complain about bedtime whenever we please. We will celebrate in our potty training and IEP wins. We will make parody videos about how awesome moms are until we are blue in the face.
Because yes, I’m way into being a Mom. But it’s never too much when my kids and future generations are in my hands.
Thirty-seven years ago today my mom gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Three years ago yesterday, I gave birth to my own son.
Every cell in my body wants to have a sit down with her, to trade birth and/or parenting stories. But, as my brother stole her life eleven years ago, I haven’t been able to. I never will.
Yesterday I baked a cake. It wasn’t beautiful. No one in the family could identify what it looked like: a guitar? A banjo? A magnifying glass? I didn’t mind though; all I kept thinking about was the cake my mom made 30 years before, the one she served my brother’s friends at his 7th birthday, that looked almost the same way. I wanted to talk to her about it, laugh at their coincidentally-matching, misshapen figures. Maybe argue over whose was worse. But I couldn’t, so I wrote about it instead. This was was my way of feeling closer to her: writing and baking
Yesterday, my son’s birthday, I spent the day wondering if I’d hear from my brother. Far too much of the day was wasted wondering if he’ll, in a final show of selfishness, steal his own life. Sometimes I hope he does, sometimes I pray he doesn’t. Either way, I am healing from a life of trauma and abuse. And my abuser, despite being behind bars, still has a strange, distant power over me.
Some days are easier than others. 💓
Mama’s made her 1st Cheesecake (hey, we’ve gotta have our own milestones, too, right?)!
I won’t bore you with a lot of jibber jabber about how this recipe is a family secret and Grandma Mae used to make it every year (I don’t even have a Grandma Mae, and I concocted this recipe from a few different ones on Internet). But I will tell you this is the perfect seasonal dessert to bring to *any* gathering or eat all by yourself in one sitting. Either way, it’s divine.
This whole process is super simple and family-friendly for the kitchen, but it does take about 7-10 hours from start to finish. Just a heads up that this miiiiight be the perfect winter break activity to do with your kids ALL DAY LONG. So, preheat your oven to 350 now, so you don’t forget later 😜
1 3/4 cups Graham Cracker Crumbs (about 15 full crackers)
1/3 cup butter, melted
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
In a large bowl mix the graham cracker crumbs, butter, granulated sugar, and salt together evenly. Press the mixture into the bottom and up the sides of 9-inch springform pan (or a thin, pre-made pie pan if that’s what you have – it’s what I worked with!)
4 apples (peeled & sliced)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp cinnamon
1 cup water or apple juice
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tbsp sea salt
1/3 cup sugar
Mix it all up, and bake at 350 until desired softness and juices have turned into a thicker syrup like consistency.
Cheesy coconut filing:
16 ounces of Cream Cheese, room temperature (I prefer whipped cream cheese for a lighter, fluffier cake)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup coconut milk, room temperature
1 teaspoons vanilla
1.5 eggs, room temperature
Mix cheese and sugar at a medium speed with a flat mixing spoon or mixer attachment. Then lightly beat in the rest of the ingredients.
When the apples are done, bake the crust for 8-10 minutes, or until lightly golden. Set the cooled apples in the bottom of the pie pan, then cover with the cheesecake mixture. Make sure the bottom of the cheesecake pan is tightly sealed, then place it in a larger, deeper pan of hot water (so that the water never actually touches the pie tin, and only surrounds it).
Bake at 350 for 60-70 minutes or until top has become a slight golden color. Take it out and cool it for an hour. After it’s cooled, tightly wrap it and place it in the fridge for anywhere from 6 hours to the whole night to set. Then ENJOY because this is the best cheesecake you’ll ever have 🤤
“Do you like it?” I ask, spinning in a full circle to give her a good look.
“It’s beautiful… I wish I could wear something like that,” she replies. “But bright colors are for the confident.”
She ducks away as I digest her words.
Is it true, do I make bold choices because I’m confident?
Surely, no. I grew up with an abusive older brother who gave me daily reminders why I should second guess everything I do. My nose makes me cringe, and the way my stomach rolls when I sit makes most of my pants uncomfortable.
No, I couldn’t be confident. Could I?
“But what if they think I’m an idiot?” she worries aloud.
I cannot help but jump in: “Oh, come on, what do you care what people think? No one’s opinion of you has any say over how you feel about yourself, unless you let it.”
“I wish I was as confident as you,” she sighs in response.
There’s that word again.
She’s right: my words are that of a confident person’s. Am I really s-s-secure? No. It can’t be. I’m too short, and not nearly as successful as I’d hope to be by now.
“What kind of kid were you in school?”
“Oh, I had my head in the books and I wore orange camoflauge pants on the regular. I couldn’t care less what people thought; I had more important things on my mind than other people’s opinions of me.”
Holy shit. I can’t be confident, can I?
That would mean I have to love myself as a whole, including all the flaws. Wholeheartedly accepting my moles, embracing the hyperactivity of my mind, loving my generally sweaty state.
The thing about confidence is that it’s insecure.
It is never quite fixed and has the potential to vacillate and change, just like its owner.
When I’m forced to look at things, I’d say I’m a pretty confident person. I know who I am and the importance of what I stand for; others views don’t sway me easily. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t misjudge or devalue myself at times. There are moments I question my abilities, or pause and give thought to my efficacy.
See, ‘confident people’ are insecure at times. And ‘insecure people’ can feel confident, too.
I’m willing to bet my life even people like Oprah and the Dalai Lama have had to stop the self-sabotaging talk at times.
There is no one on this planet that has gone without inconsistencies or insecurities altogether.
What I’m getting at is, confidence is so much less about the labels we allow ourselves and so much more about the habits we adopt. It is not a measure of our worth, but the volume of our doubt.
So, when you hear that voice telling you aren’t good enough, stop and think:
• Where is it coming from?
• Why do you listen to it?
• What if it’s not telling the truth?
• How can you make its mantra more positive?
Because the only thing truly keeping you from feeling confident is your inner monologue.
Films have the ability to take people on journeys without even pulling them from the comfort of their couches. They helped me escape the difficulties of childhood, and now a taxing adulthood.
But the more magical thing about movies is that they remain to be so much to so many people. I was just taken on a lovely trip through Southern California, a film lovers’ highlight reel of the area, courtesy of DVD.com. As a highest-tier member of their ambassador program, I was eligible for this amazing, eye-opening experience.
We started with a visit to Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween party and lived every Disney lovers’ fantasy by closing out the park stuffed full of free candy and dressed in our favorite paraphernalia.
The next day we woke up bright and early and headed to the nearest DVD Netflix hub. When we arrived we were greeted with warm and friendly employees who walked us through the entire warehouse. Their enthusiasm was contagious, even though it was extremely early. We may not have been accustomed to being awake at that time, but they had been up and hauling DVDs for hours already. That’s how they do it in order to get your movies to your house on time. Thank you, DVD Netflix!
After that we were treated to a writing session with the incredible David Raether. He gave us some pointers on having maximum impact in our pieces, and I left with a lot more writing confidence.
After a lovely lunch at the hotel, we launched ourselves to the next stop, which was the Warner Brothers’ Studios in Burbank. There we went on an absolutely delightful Classics Tour.
And after all was said and done, my biggest takeaway – besides a once-in-a-lifetime experience – was that movies unite people. No matter movies’ genres, themes, top-billed actresses, etc, films bring millions of people together.
On this trip, I was introduced to Linda, a creator with a passion for film so great, she watches them all. Her zest is contagious, and I can’t wait to read through all of her past articles to find my next favorite films. I also met Ann, another DVD Netflix Director in their DVD Nation. She loves films with strong female characters and all of the same favorite actresses as me. Then there was Bean, Illinois-based travel and movie blogger infamous for her exciting travel-centric posts that give me a mean case of wanderlust. I’ve admired her articles from afar, but she’s somehow even better in person. Joules was a hilarious Mama who has a fresh voice and fun taste in films that made me want to watch whatever she is watching. And last but undoubtedly not least, there was Raquel, whose knowledge of film (especially the classics) is quite literally awe-inspiring. No matter our opinions of the movies we discussed, we bonded over our mutual interest and how films make us feel. That’s what movies are about.
At the WB Studios, I was introduced to the story of four studio executive brothers who believed in themselves and realized a dream. I watched the grips and prop handlers lug the necessities from soundstage to soundstage. There were the carpenters in the lumberyard building pieces of sets. There are actresses and actors on the closed sets who bring a story to life, along with the director that sees a vision and makes it happen. The producers, writers, editors, marketers. They’re all a part of these films. They all do it for that same love. That’s what movies are about.
And I would be absolutely remiss if I did not mention Michael and his crew at the Anaheim hub (again). They are the people who are at work at 2:30 in the morning, sorting through the DVDs you’ve sent back in, the men and women who fix the machines that sort the new movies you request to your door. The ones who have made it their job to keep you entertained and work through the wee hours to ensure they do. That’s what DVD Netflix is about.
And finally, there’s you. Getting cozy on the couch, being immersed in a new perspective, someone else’s tale. You’ve now joined in. And perhaps your spouse, who’s fallen asleep halfway through and may even have a different opinion that you, they’ve joined in, too. All of you are a part of that film. Forever. That’s the true magic of film. And this is what movies are all about. Uniting people.
Thank you, DVD Netflix, for reminding me over and over again of why I love movies so damn much, and for letting me play a role in it all.