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an everyday life

Tag Archives: Raising Children

Chicken Casserole

16 Saturday Jan 2010

Posted by Janell in In the Kitchen, Life at Home

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Chicken, Everyday Life, In the Kitchen, Raising Children, Whining

It’s funny how likes and dislikes go topsy-turvy as we age.

As a child, one of my least favorite meals was any sort of chicken stew dish.  Maybe it’s because Mom didn’t serve this much at home.  So ‘my’ chicken casserole derives from a recipe in a Martha White cookbook, one purchased during the early days of second marriage.  The recipe quickly became a family favorite except for the ‘icky’ mushrooms.  I compensated by slicing and not chopping to make the mushrooms easy to pick out, though eventually, most of the kids grew to like them.

The phrase ‘most of the kids’ means four.  We began married life with the two girls from my first marriage.  And then we didn’t waste time adding two boys to the mix.  In less that two years, my husband went from a quiet, sedate bachelor existence to family circus mayhem with four under the age of 10 — surely these are grounds for growing saints… or for becoming insane.

Just like any new U.S. President in office, my new husband turned prematurely gray from the stress of his new family responsibilities.  Our eight-to-five jobs were easy in comparison.  Who knows but maybe this was part of the reason neither of us seriously considered putting our careers on hold to stay home with the children.  Being the business professionals we were, we invited a sassy southern lady into our home and paid her well to help us raise our children while we were away at work.  Nanny Tellie was part of our family for five years.

A divorced grandmother who hailed from Mississippi, Tellie never bothered to mince words.  If she thought she could improve the state of our family with the wisdom of her years, she was quick to dish it up.  With four children and two stretched-at-the-seams parents, we offered plenty of areas for Tellie to point her finger at and shake her stern head toward — as she muttered under her breath —  Humph, Humph, Humph.

But like most people, Tellie had more strengths than not.  She was dependable; she arrived a little early; she was rarely ill and fairly flexible in working overtime.  And as a bonus, Tellie did light housework and all of our ironing.   But best of all, Tellie was a steady influence in our children’s lives while my husband and I were running in and out the revolving door.  She was good to all our children, though clearly, her favorite was our oldest son Bryan.

In addition to all of this, Tellie was a fabulous southern cook.  Though she didn’t cook for us often, it was a treat when she did.  My second biggest mistake during our Tellie-years was not paying Tellie to cook dinner for our family and hers.  My first was not buying  Tellie a copy of the Martha White cookbook that she enjoyed looking at — I should have a made a special trip to the store the very day she asked if she could clip the mail-order coupon at the back of the book.

My life is full of ‘should-haves’ and ‘wish-I-would-haves.’   As I recollect our years with Tellie, I wish I hadn’t let Tellie’s constant nagging cloud my vision of all the good she brought into our lives.   And surely there is a lesson in this story for us all — for whining and nagging surely shows us at our worst — and its value is questionable in helping others to dig deep for their best.

In honor of the best of Nanny Tellie, I share this adapted Martha White recipe with you.  Serve it over rice, in the best tradition of most good southern dishes.  And in memory of Tellie’s worst…. remember to hold the whine.

From my life to yours.

Chicken Casserole

Serves 4    60 minutes (another 60 minutes plus to pre-cook chicken)

Stew

1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 cup sliced mushrooms (diced cooked carrots may be subsititued)
1/4 cup butter
1/3 cup flour
2 cups chicken broth
1 cup whipping cream
2 to 3 cups cooked shredded chicken (3 half-chicken breasts, baked or boiled)
1 Tbsp parsley
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper

In a large sauce pan over medium high heat, cook vegetables in butter until softened.  (Note, if using carrots instead of mushrooms, cook separately and add cooked carrots to cooked celery and onion.)  Gradually add flour and stir for about a minute.  Gradually add broth and cream — boil for 1 minute — sauce should be thickened.  Stir in remaining ingredients.  Pour stew into a greased casserole dish.

Buttermilk Biscuits

1 cup flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 Tbsp shortening
1/2 cup scant (less 1 Tbsp) buttermilk

Mix dry ingredients in a bowl.  Cut in shortening with a pastry blender until mixture resembles course crumbs.  Add buttermilk and stir only until dough leaves sides of bowl.  Do not overwork.

Turn dough out onto floured surface.  Gently knead or pat dough a few times — then roll into 1/2 inch thickness.  Cut into biscuit with either 2″ inverted floured glass or even with a sharp knife — biscuits don’t have to be round.

Place biscuits on top of stew and place casserole into a preheated 400 degree oven.  Bake for 25 minutes or until biscuits are golden brown. Cool 5 to 10 minutes before serving over rice.

Other Side of the Fence

11 Monday Jan 2010

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Career, College Interviews, Everyday Life, Raising Children

The early spring warmth that lightly stirs the magnolia branches is beckoning life to come and play.   Even now, the neighbor dogs and my own Madeleine chase each other up and down the wood fence that hides their view of the competition.  From where I sit, looking out my second story window, I’d put my money on Maddie.

My son Bryan will be running back and forth to Edmond this semester for a needed accounting class that O.U. doesn’t offer.  Hoping for an easy meal, Bryan called to ask about this evening’s dinner menu.  And then…almost as an afterthought…Bryan casually mentioned he had a job interview this Wednesday.   Who knows but that perhaps this rare job interview is a breath of warm air showing signs of life in the economy.

The name of the hiring firm — one I’ve never heard of — caused me to offer little by way of comment.  Interpreting this as a lack of endorsement, Bryan surprised me by asking if he should accept a position if offered.  Of course, I told Bryan I didn’t know the answer to his question but that any job offer would be hard to pass up in this economy — as long as he liked the company and the company liked him.

I have to laugh when I consider that I have one son asking me questions like this and another who doesn’t trust me to know what is appropriate business attire for downtown Oklahoma City.   In the space of days, I’ve had one son put too much store in my opinion and the other dismiss me for the junk heap that I should crawl on top of — being the all-used-up CPA that I am, of course.  And the beautiful irony sitting on the fence is that I know more about what Kyle should wear to work than what Bryan should do in accepting work.

But back to Bryan’s Wednesday appointment — having sat on the interviewer’s side of the fence, I would guess competition for this new staff position will be fierce.  I don’t envy the interviewers their job since there is so little to actually go on in making hiring decisions on new college graduates.  But knowing what I know about Bryan — if these interviewers could use a biased opinion of an all washed up CPA who no longer knows how to dress for success — I could tell them exactly who to put their money on for a sure bet.

And maybe because I’m not their mother, they might actually listen.

The Stage is Set

06 Sunday Dec 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, Soul Care

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Christmas Story, Mesta Park, Raising Children, Soul Care

The Nativity Stage is Set

Writing proved good therapy yesterday as it lifted my blues and allowed me to pick up the pieces of my day; as soon as the post was published, my husband and I bundled up in our coats and hats.  Then we walked west to visit this year’s Mesta Park tour homes.

The homes were well-staged.  Everywhere I looked I found some little treasure, some little historical detail that had survived who know’s how many owners to share their hundred year old story.  And of course, the homes were dressed in their holiday finest.

But as nice as the homes were, it’s always good to come through my own front door.  I walk in through the small vestibule to see it all with fresh eyes;  immediately, I spot the greenery that covers my banister.  Then my eye falls on the unadorned tree.

Not quite a “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree, our ten-year old artificial tree is small in stature.  Four feet from top to bottom.  Most of our ornaments, purchased to dress a nine-foot tree, don’t even make it out of the basement anymore.   First priority goes to all the decorations made by our children when they were little boys and girls.  Any remaining space goes to ornaments that tell stories about our lives — people, places and events.

This ornament made by Kara’s six-year old hand always get a choice spot.  After all, the little glitter paper star  tells the story behind Christmas itself.  Love is the star of the Christmas story.  From beginning to end, Christmas is about love.

God loves Kara.  God loves me.  God loves you.  It boggles our mind that this should be so, for Lord knows,  there’s nothing that we can do or say to deserve it.  And little Kara is so obviously confused about this message of love.  A nice teacher probably wrote the story in big and bold red letters, as teachers everywhere are known to do.  But little Kara working in blue highlighter can’t quite get her writing hand around the message.

“Kara God loves Kara,” my six-year old child writes.  What was Kara trying to say?  Was it Kara loves God?  Or was she trying to repeat God loves Kara in her own hand, like one who writes a teacher’s words over and over until the lesson sticks.  Or  is it that God’s love begins and ends with Kara?  And me?  And you?   Whichever it is, just like Kara, we stumble and stutter for the right words and actions to express God’s love, only to have it come out all jumbled.  Lost in translation.

No matter what Kara intended to say, the red pen was right in pronouncing that God loves Kara.  And had we been in that classroom, we would have made stars that told the story that God loves you and I.   This is the ancient love story that was handed down to me and was handed down to whoever my storyteller was… and so on, all the way back to St. John himself, who doesn’t bother with the likes of a nativity story or wise men or shepherds or this bit about there being no room in the inn.

Instead John starts his story all the way back to the beginning of time and says Jesus Christ was there.  And then he rattles around a bit, perhaps a little confused and dazed by all of God’s love just like my six-year old Kara was until FINALLY, John writes a verse that even a six year old can memorize:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his own son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

And this is John’s Christmas story in a nutshell.  John sets his gospel stage with love.  And he leaves the rest of the story, and even the story itself, to the likes of us.

If I were six, I might tell the story better.

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