Observation

Wednesday, 6:56 pm

Last night, while the lad made dinner, I made some more butter. I have it down to about 20 minutes from start to finish now.

I was about 6 minutes into the jar shaking routine before the lad actually noticed that I was shaking a jar with something in it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Making butter,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it’s easy, fun, and it tastes better than store bought,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. Not at all sold on the idea.

When I’d finished making the butter. lightly salted, and packaged in a small container, I asked him to try it.

“No, that’s okay,” he said.

“No, really. Try it. I insist.” I said.

He tentatively reached out a finger, as if it might get bitten off, and took a little glob of butter. He tasted it. His eyebrows shot almost off his face.

“This is really good,” he said, taking another glob on the end of his finger. “Really good.”

“Why were you so afraid to try it?” I asked.

“I guess because I think store bought is better,” he said. “That jar looked really gross. And, I guess, I’ve never heard of anyone making butter before. It’s always in the fridge in sticks.”

“I’ve failed you as a mother,” I said.

Well, we both laughed, but the truth was in there someplace. My son has absorbed a cultural message that store bought is better than home made. At least for some things. It really bothered me that he was reluctant to try something home made...as if it might poison him. And yet, homemade breads and pastries are fine. And mom’s home cooking is really fine. But something a little outside the norm and comfort zone? People really do get stuck in a narrow range of thinking. Home made is not inferior. How did that idea become so normal?

Lovin' vacation

Wednesday, 6:09 pm

Mar

19

2008

The lad arrived home late yesterday afternoon. Along with him came a large supply of foodstuffs that his StepMom bought for him to take back to school. The dad muttered, “Remind me not to let the lad go shopping with [StepMom] again. He and his entire dorm could live off this for two months.” Quite true. As I looked over the enormous pile of stuff, I wondered how in the world I’m going to fit it all in my car. But that was pretty nice, I think. The StepMom remembers what college life was like. We have our differences from time to time, but she does alright by the lad.

Last night was pretty relaxed around here. The lad cooked dinner (he loves to cook) and then we watched movies together. And talked and talked and talked. And then he dragged out the enormous box of Legos from under his bed and sat down in the middle of his bedroom floor and started building a Pirate Ship and Fortress. That kind of cracked me up. It’s been years since he’s looked at his Legos, but he seemed to be in the grips of nostalgia last night. And having a ball.

Today has been “Work out Mom’s Debit Card” day. Many supplies needed and boy does it add up. I told him I can’t afford him to come home for vacations very often if today was any indication. My goodness. We bought shampoo and conditioner and other toiletries. And toothbrushes and toothpaste and Q tips and razor blades (not sure what part of his face he uses those on...) and on and on. But it was fun. Absolutely.

Tonight he’s off to a friend’s house for an overnight over in Worcester. I think he’ll be coming back by train sometime tomorrow. (My car has an appointment with the mechanic tomorrow...the alternator belt is slipping and shrieking). Abbie is very happy about having her house back. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she finds the lad’s presence rather intrusive. His bedroom is HERS and she was completely flummoxed last night when she discovered that her favorite sleeping chair had HIS stuff on it. Poor kitty was forced to come sleep with me last night. You wouldn’t think that would be a hardship, but, being the creature of habit that she is, she hasn’t adjusted to the switch in bedrooms yet. Not sure she ever will. So this little interlude with the lad home has her completely off her stride. She wanders around the house meowing most pitifully. Doesn’t do the lad’s ego a bit of good. She used to think the sun rose and set over him. Now? Well, maybe not so much. His stuff is in HER chair. I told him he might want to accommodate her if he plans on having peace in the house. Silly cat.