The problem with food is that as it has become more and more convenient it has become less and less nutritious. Now days we have fast food and ready meals and everything prepared, packaged and ready for us whenever we want it. We live in a world of instant gratification where what we want is only a microwave away.
Seems very sad to me. Our children don’t know where their eggs come from or where their burger originated from. They don’t realise the simplest things about the food that is presented to them. And slowly but surely they are forgetting how to cook.
We learn to cook from our parents and the adults around us. When food is zapped we learn that the world is handed to us, meals arrive with minimal inconvenience and no work. But in taking this away from our children and our lives we are taking away one of life’s simple joys. The joy of planning and executing a tasty meal of our own creation. We lose the tactile expression of love for our nearest and dearest, we lose the relaxation of kneading dough and rolling pastry. We lose a part of selves when we resort to take away and ready meals.
This is not to say that we have to create massive complex designer meals. Far from it. Even the simplest of meals can be tasty and exciting. And it can be an opportunity to spend time with our children and teach them the things we were taught.
In my family food is an expression of love. We usually over cater all events, I know I do. When I cook it is an expression of how I feel about the people I’m cooking for, a gift to them, a gift of my time and my thought and what little skills I have. When we cook we allow ourselves creativity and we allow ourselves a freedom we rarely have in the rest of our lives.
I remember school holidays making cup cakes with my mum, and chocolate cake made by my grossmama and chicken pie made by my gran. All such glorious gifts. Now days my gran doesn’t make her own puff pastry, even she thinks the frozen stuff is just as good. But the meals that I have been gifted with remain with me, remind me of the love of the women in my family.
When my grossmama died each of us women were given a copy of her chocolate cake recipe. Let me explain, grossmama’s chocolate cake was phenomenal, it was thick and rich and chocolaty and so delicious it would make you weep. We’ve all tried to make her recipe and none of us can get it right. Our efforts are just fine but none of us can replicate that amazing cake. At her funeral a friend of mine told me that we would never be able to make that cake using that recipe, “You see,” Jonathan told me. “Your grossmama used to have a secret ingredient. She made her chocolate cake with love”. And that is the truth.
We have an opportunity to show our love in a very real and wonderful way. Even the simplest meal can express to someone else our love and our care for them.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Babies and Small Children
Babies are necessary in our lives. Not necessarily our own babies but someone’s baby. We don’t have to go out and make babies for the satisfaction of them. What we need is to make sure that we have babies or small children in our lives.
Why? Well, they’re demanding and noisy and smelly and messy and generally disruptive. And they force us out of ourselves, they force us to focus elsewhere, to put our brains to work, not for ourselves but for the sake of the little person who needs us. There can be nothing more valuable to us as human beings than to have to interact with little people.
Recently one of my dearest friends had her third baby. I was unemployed, broke, bored and being chased by the creditors, trying to eek out every penny and generally trying not to go absolutely crazy. So, I got to spend a lot of my time with my friend and her gorgeous girls. Her six year old, my god daughter, and I sat and sewed together, we cooked meals and treats. We hung out. Boring though it may sound my god daughter thought it great fun to hang with her Aunty Noms. The second born, fabulously two years old, and I bonded in the mornings over a bottle (for her) and a coffee (for me). And number three, all of one month old, we walked the house and chatted about the world, whilst her mum could luxuriate in a long shower without worrying about her baby.
And all the time I was with the girls, did I have a moment to worry about the bills I couldn’t pay or how to raise some money? Of course not. The beauty of small children is that they need you, they need you for a clean bum, food in their tummies, to fix their problems and kiss their hurts away, read them stories and generally give them the love and discipline they need to become well rounded people.
The added benefit to all of this is that whoever is mum to the kids you get to hang out with gets a chance to think for herself. She gets a chance to breath, even for a minute. It’s a two way blessing. My friend has the assurance that her girls are with a trusted adult who will reinforce her discipline and will love her children unconditionally.
I also have the privilege of smacking rights. A horrible gift but essential when an adult spends a lot of time with small children. So far I haven’t had to smack any of my girls, although once or twice we’ve come close. And each time I’ve had to ask the girls not to make me do it. Much as I believe that smacking is an important disciplinary tool, when applied infrequently and consistently, it’s not something I relish. With my god daughter I actually asked her not to make me do it. I told her the next time she broke the rule (which she’d broken numerous times that day and that she knew she was breaking) I would have to smack her and then I asked her not to make me go there. Fortunately for me my god daughter is a very good girl and she understood that I was serious.
When we’re single or don’t have kids of our own it is so easy to get caught up in our own little lives and to forget that there is a whole world of experience out there that we’re missing. Spending time with small children enriches us, it teaches us patience and how to have uncomplicated fun. What could be better than making pizza with a six year old or bread and butter pudding with a two year old? We have a chance to give to someone else with the glorious return of a snuggle at the end of the day.
Why? Well, they’re demanding and noisy and smelly and messy and generally disruptive. And they force us out of ourselves, they force us to focus elsewhere, to put our brains to work, not for ourselves but for the sake of the little person who needs us. There can be nothing more valuable to us as human beings than to have to interact with little people.
Recently one of my dearest friends had her third baby. I was unemployed, broke, bored and being chased by the creditors, trying to eek out every penny and generally trying not to go absolutely crazy. So, I got to spend a lot of my time with my friend and her gorgeous girls. Her six year old, my god daughter, and I sat and sewed together, we cooked meals and treats. We hung out. Boring though it may sound my god daughter thought it great fun to hang with her Aunty Noms. The second born, fabulously two years old, and I bonded in the mornings over a bottle (for her) and a coffee (for me). And number three, all of one month old, we walked the house and chatted about the world, whilst her mum could luxuriate in a long shower without worrying about her baby.
And all the time I was with the girls, did I have a moment to worry about the bills I couldn’t pay or how to raise some money? Of course not. The beauty of small children is that they need you, they need you for a clean bum, food in their tummies, to fix their problems and kiss their hurts away, read them stories and generally give them the love and discipline they need to become well rounded people.
The added benefit to all of this is that whoever is mum to the kids you get to hang out with gets a chance to think for herself. She gets a chance to breath, even for a minute. It’s a two way blessing. My friend has the assurance that her girls are with a trusted adult who will reinforce her discipline and will love her children unconditionally.
I also have the privilege of smacking rights. A horrible gift but essential when an adult spends a lot of time with small children. So far I haven’t had to smack any of my girls, although once or twice we’ve come close. And each time I’ve had to ask the girls not to make me do it. Much as I believe that smacking is an important disciplinary tool, when applied infrequently and consistently, it’s not something I relish. With my god daughter I actually asked her not to make me do it. I told her the next time she broke the rule (which she’d broken numerous times that day and that she knew she was breaking) I would have to smack her and then I asked her not to make me go there. Fortunately for me my god daughter is a very good girl and she understood that I was serious.
When we’re single or don’t have kids of our own it is so easy to get caught up in our own little lives and to forget that there is a whole world of experience out there that we’re missing. Spending time with small children enriches us, it teaches us patience and how to have uncomplicated fun. What could be better than making pizza with a six year old or bread and butter pudding with a two year old? We have a chance to give to someone else with the glorious return of a snuggle at the end of the day.
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