Hello again

Life is running smoothly, once again. Now, I am a psychotherapist in training. It usually takes me about a month to get used to a new job (or at least the school year...even though now I am not teaching). The girls are adjusted (more like I am adjusted). Actually, I love what I am doing. It is exciting, rewarding work, though emotionally draining sometimes. When a child hugs me because I helped her in some way...there is nothing like it. Also, Lyle, my boss, is great. Working for someone where I can truly be myself and say how I feel. It is refreshing. We have a great relationship. Since I am working for a psychologist and also being supervised there is a lot of talk about feelings, intentions, and motivation behind action...I LOVE IT, though it is hard at times to look at myself so critically. Growth is something I thrive on, even if sometimes the growth hurts a bit. Looking at oneself is definitely not always so easy. In order to give therapy I am required to analyze my actions. It is important to see what is behind what I say, how I feel in session, and what motivates where I go with clients. Sometimes, they may do something that brings up crap within me. I have to know myself enough to see beyond all the bol shit going through my own mind, so I can truly help the client go through...well their own shit really. In fact many a time I sat down to write on my blog, but what I had to say was so personal, so near to my heart, and perhaps also hurtful to others. I just could not write it. It felt like too much.
There was lots of amazing food to write about like the mint chocolate chip cookie sandwiches I made Erik for his birthday, my kickass apple cream-cheese cake that I made for Rosh Hashanah, or the pomodoro I made tonight, slow roasted tomatos roasted in the oven for three years (heaven surely has garlicky, bright red tomatos flecked with fresh basil), but in light of all the deep thinking, it felt like writing about food would just be an easy way out, and unfortunately I am not one to take that route. I rather sweat it out, or avoid whatever is looming over me all together. Anyhow, I am back.

Work starts...NOW

This week I start my work schedule for the year. I have lots of mixed feelings about the whole thing. On one side I am so excited to truly begin. Working with people invigorates me. Helping them figure out their problems and heal themselves...there is nothing else like it. Plus, my boss is supportive, nurturing, and quite wonderful. I will learn so much from her. I am also scared shitless. Though I put on a good show, and probably seem as if I have it all together. Two years of school, and I feel completely unprepared. There is so much I do not know, and so much that I have forgotten. Plus, I am training to be a therapist. This whole gig is completely new to me. No matter how natural it feels. I got A LOT to learn. It is overwelming. I feel all this passion and excitement for this new change in my life, but my family is my first priority. My family is IT for me. Maya and Amara are still very young; a year and a half is NOTHING. They should be with their mother for most of the time (or father or loved one). The first three years of their life are the most important. It forms how they will be in relationships, their feeling of independence, sense of empathy, and so much more. Working takes me away from them. Three years is a blip in the scheme of things, though everything to them. There is a fine balance between work and family, and I am not quite sure a woman can really have it all. Part of me feels like somewhere something gets sacrificed, whether it be a career suffers, or the children loose their parent only to see them on the weekends or right before bed. I hope I can strike a balance. Perhaps working two to three afternoons to start, than more as they (and mostly I) are able to handle it. As they grow up it is so important that they feel as if I was there for them.

Friends

One of the things I miss the most about the East Coast is friends. I have made some in Houston. In fact, I have met some great people. Friendship takes time though. Time, with kids, is limited. The friends made when I was younger, from college days and soon after, know me differently. Those were the days when there was time. Time and lots and lots of alcohol, plus a dose of a late night or two, three...Now I am lucky if I make it till 11. The precious moments I have on the weekends are spent either going out by myself or relishing in family together time. We try to get together with some of the friends we have made, but coordination, healthy children and nap schedules makes it hard.
A few girl friends and I created a monthly dinner. We all look forward to it so much. For a night I get dressed up, blow dry my hair, and put on some make-up. I slowly get dressed. Throw on heels. We drink wine, taste one another's food, and talk. I love it. I just wish there was more...
Friendship now is different. It must be cultitivated. It's not as easy. I wonder if it would be this way if we lived on the East Coast as well?

Waking Up

Sometimes I forget. I am so caught up in mominess, in lover, in family that the rest of me floats by on the wind. My days are spent cuddling with Maya and Amara, giving them love, and showing them this bright, amazing world we live in. I read to them, walk with them down the street looking at birds, flowers, squirrels, and showing them the wind. I make them their meals. My life has become something else, bigger, more expansive. Today, at Dr. Cubberly's memorial service I remembered. I remembered that I am extraordinary. I have gifts. My extraordinariness expands out beyond my family and into the world. There is so much I want to give, so much more to experience, so much more in store. It is fitting that such an epiphany should occur at Dr. Cubberly's memorial because part of his life was dedicated to helping people see their own greatness. It was as if his spirit was with me, smiling, even chuckling a bit.
My love for my family is the greatest, most wonderful and amazing part of my life, but there is more. I have a gifts. I must remember.
I understand now what I want this blog to be about. It is not necesarily about food, though it comes into play quite often in my life. Many of my most memorable experiences have occured around a great meal, whether it was hippy grilled cheese in a parking lot, or a michelin starred restaurant in the french countryside. The blog is about me and the conversations that occur around my kitchen table. Huh...finally I "got" it.

The garden

This weekend I am going to start creating my vegetable garden. I am kinda pysched, yet kinda scared all at the same time. Oh, and I also think I may be nuts. The garden will not be in the middle of my long like orginally planned. Instead it will be on the side of our house. Since it is on the side of the house instead of being about 5X6 feet it will be about 12X5 (ish), since now it will be a semi-circle. Now, you may be asking yourself why I think I am nuts...because I have dabbled in vegetable gardening, but by no means to I have any KIND OF CLUE what I am doing, but I want to, if that counts for anything. To get myself in the mood for the veggie garden endeavor I bought some...plants. I got two peppers, some suash, cucs, and multiple basils. At the moment I have kolrabi, leeks and a pitiful looking tomato plant in the yard. They are not dead, but not blooming either. The dude at the store said I have to feed them every two weeks. This makes sense. Hey, at least they are not dead, considering the heat.

Today was 93 days, and we went outside twice because we thought it was NICE out. Is that pathetic or what? I am from the Northeast I am not supposed to get used to this HOT ASS SHIT. The sad part is, I am...I really am. The cool thing about living down South is gardening, so I feel like it is my responsibility to "get this".

I am scared of the digging part. 12X5 ish is a lotta dirt, lawn, and stuff to take care of. There is this idea in my head that it will be peaceful, Zen, and incredibly cool to have the gals see the food they are eating. Oh, and how aweseome will it be to eat food that was grown right outside our door. Doesn't get much better than that. Can you tell I am trying to psych myself into this?

Nanny Woes

At the moment I am extremely frustrated. I was supposed to start working tomorow, but have had the hardest time finding a nanny or babysitter. I will only be working two half days, and no one really wants those hours. UGH! When I get pissed off, I cook, furiously. After making three Julia Child dishes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking I actually took out my Baking with Agave Nectar book and started putting ingredients to the side to make rasberry chocolate macaroon bars (sugar-free of course). What the hell is wrong with me??? Initially, I attempted to work out using Excercise TV. Either yoga or some punches seemed like a good idea, but the damn thing did not work, so instead I cooked. What pisses me off the most about the "non-nanny" situation is how READY I am to get in the room. Essentially, this is the start of my new career. I forgot how excited I was to help people heal, the feeling of "getting in there", and helping people figure "it" out.
For the past year and a half I have been mom and wife. Working, though it is only about 8 hours a week, made me remember that other part of myself. Once, before I had Maya and Amara I was (sometimes) hot. I had IT (at least sometimes in the right light, with the right dress). My ass was solid, abs tight from hours in the gym, I was a teacher, a damn good one in fact...There is lots of different sides to me now, but I forgot about them. I have been so wrapped up in being mom and wife, I forgot to...um shave my legs, perhaps tweeze and throw on my contacts. I forgot I did Reiki, I knew a thing or two about wellness, healing, life before children. I must remember that before there mom there was Danna, Gordo, DG, D, the one and only...I wasand am somethin' else! All this because I cannot find a lousy nanny. Shit.

Hears to you Doc

Today I found out my teacher and mentor Dr. Walter Cubberly passed away last night. I am so saddened. He was a remarkable man. I took two of his courses while getting my Master's at U of H. It is rare to meet a human being who lives their life fully and authenticly. Most people just kind of blindly walk, bumping where they may. Living a life of integrity, honesty, and love is painful, scary, but real. He knew people so well. He understood their pain and helped them heal themselves, a remarkable gift. I would leave Dr. Cubberly's classes inspired, looking within myself. He felt that to be a good therapist, first we must know ourselves. Our client's can only go as deep as we have gone. While in his classes I applied all the lessons to my own life. I tried to be honest with myself, look at who I was, question it, over and over again. Needless to say I was also in therapy. In sexual counseling I wrote my paper on love and intimacy, so I could utilize it in my own relationship. Family counseling was extremely poignant because I was about to start a family of my own. I wanted to learn from the mistakes repeated through out the generations by becoming aware of what they were. It was not easy. The last time I saw Dr. Cubberly was after I wrote a paper on my family. It was a novella, 60 pages long. My story was the that of my great grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, and of me. It was scary, sad, and beautiful all at the same time. I went to his office to see what he thought. God, I was so frightened I'd screw up my kids, repeat all the mistakes, be a horrible mother. Our meeting was towards the end of my pregnancy. Of course he allayed all my fears, told me it was going to be OK. He said I have had two years of training (school that is), and that I would be a wonderful mother. We hugged.
When the gals were born I called him to tell him I did it. I really did it. He said, "of course you did." Just last week I was thinking of calling him. In a few weeks I go back to work. I wanted to say hello, keep in touch.
Dr. Cubberly was a kindred spirit. He was a one of those special human beings who touched everyone he met. I hope I can be as honest, as authentic, as healing, as loving and as sensitive as he was. Cheers Doc. May your loving soul find peace and light. Thank you.