Showing posts with label Teaching Children Through Example. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teaching Children Through Example. Show all posts

07 August 2012

My Own Understanding of What Happened

Why did we leave Poland?  My older daughter asked me this question a few times.  I still don't know what to tell her.  The facts are so many, so overwhelming, so double sided. 

In the end, all that has ever rung true for me is this:  Here I am, Polish born raised and living in Amerika, with two beautiful daughters who I love.  And, really, that's the most important fact.  My daughters. 

I hope one day they understand what I mean when I hug them and say "Life is a complicated, strange thing.  And it led me to where I needed to be so that I could be sitting here hugging you.  That's all that matters, really."

Other subtle facts float by on the edges.  I have an American accent, not a Polish one.  My kids are Polish-American, not just Polish, not just American.  We are the bridge between the two worlds, as there always is in every American family.  At some point in all of American family history, there is a bridge between the two worlds.

There is nothing wrong with preferring a snack of pickles over potato chips, or loving barbecue pulled pork, or not knowing what it means to stand in line for hours for food.  There is nothing wrong with continued contact with the family left behind.  There is nothing wrong with speaking English, the third language of a person's life, better than their mother language. 

So, how to answer my daughter's question?  I don't know.  And part of it comes from the fact that, in order for my parents to answer it, they will have to look back on that time and embrace homesickness as well as the feeling they had watching the news, seeing with their eyes what was happening, and then snuggling their little baby girl after standing in line for food.  They can't answer it all the way, nor can I.

So, I started looking for videos I could save to show my kids later in life to explain.  I found this one.  I'm not sure if I should share it.  I don't fully understand the facts, whether it was really like this, I'm no historian, no sociologist, no diplomat, no expert.  I'm just a Mama.  That's enough.






To those of you who remember this time, or understand it, what do you think of this video?  Does anyone else struggle with how to answer this question when your children ask?

Na razie...

05 June 2012

How To See Venus Traverse the Sun

Tonight is a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Tonight, Venus crosses the sun and will not cross it again until 2117.

To view this natural phenomenon, all you need is a pair of binoculars and a piece of white paper.

Shine the sun through the eye piece of the binoculars and hold a piece of paper a few inches from the view finder end of the binoculars so that the sun light shines through as a bright circle onto the paper.  Focus the binoculars until you see Venus.

Some suggest shining through the opposite way so that the sunlight comes out of the eyepiece but we had little luck seeing the dot of Venus this way as the light was too dim for us.

This same method can be used for Solar Eclipses.

While this is not exactly a fast moving or large wonder to behold, it is extremely rare and real unlike movies.






Here is what we saw.  The dot in the bottom of the circle of light is Venus (the speck is on the bottom of this shot instead of the top because I was trying to hold the binoculars, camera and paper all steady by myself so that you could see it as well).

I hope you share this moment with your children and hug each other, knowing that one day it will be our great great grandchildren beholding this natural wonder.

Na razie...

25 April 2012

Word(y) Wednesday: Piękny Jaś

I started a new garden at our Illinois house.  In the bean patch, Polish Piękny Jaś is starting to grow next to the native Purple Pole Beans a friend gave me (you can see the taller purple stem in the background of this photo).  It's a Polish American garden.





This is one of about 6 Piękny Jaś beans I planted with the children.  We just took some beans I bought and put them in dirt or water beads.  And waited.

What do you have growing in your garden?

Watch for the next few Wordless (Wordy) Wednesday posts to see what else we are growing and how you can grow it as well.



Spring is Here!

It's time to start our gardens! Dom itp has Buy $30 of seeds and get free shipping until May 2, 2012. Some seeds they offer are sunflowers, pickling cucumbers, Polish wild strawberries, several different flowers, parsley roots (I highly recommend trying this in some of your recipes), and many other varieties.  Their prices are comparable to going to your local chain or gardening store.  It's like having a piece of Poland in your backyard.

Na razie...



Disclaimer: The links and banner for Dom itp are part of an affiliate program. While the company does not pay for me to post their links and banner, I do receive a portion of all sales made using the links and banner in compensation. If you do purchase something from them this way, I sincerely thank you.

20 April 2012

Wisdom from My Six Year Old on Charity

I have always made an effort to expose my children to the concept of "Charity", of helping others however you can, even if it's only a small gesture.  That repeatedly, small gestures turn into something bigger.  That we can help make this world a better place if we care and keep trying. 

It seems to be working.

My six year old's school has a bake sale often to help fund various academic programs.  Each item is usually 25 cents for a cookie, small cupcake, brownie, or other home baked goodies.

We usually give her $1 for the sale and tell her she can buy 4 "goodies" or buy one or two and share the money with a friend who has none.  I stress that it is up to her.

When she gets in the car at school pick up time, I always ask her how her day was, asking questions like, "So, what did you buy at the bake sale?"

Yesterday, she made me so proud with her response.

"I bought two cookies, Mommy.  They were really yummy.  I ate one and gave one to [another student's name] who had no money.  I had two moneys left so I put them in the jar for helping the poor people.  I do that every time we have a bake sale."

She then started laughing at her sister, who had been stretching her little hand toward her big sister while being strapped in her car seat.

They started making frog sounds back and forth to another and I drove to the house, passing a pond with geese and ducks on the way.

Soon, I plan on telling her more about charity.  How we can donate money, and help raise money, to make a difference.  To give an underfunded school a library, to build a monument to a local hero so that the community can continue to be beautiful and feel inspired to strive for better, to give shoes to children who have none, to bring about changes in laws so that children and the environment can be better protected.

For now, I'll keep donating with them to local organizations that help immigrants, being a lunch room Mama and Classroom Mama while they accompany me, cooking for local fundraising events, baking cookies for the nursing home, growing our own garden, and helping them work out in their own minds what they can do in this world to make a difference.  Because I know they can.  I know they will.

Na razie...




Related posts:

Another Immigrant Family

Tzedakah

Wordless Wednesday:  Adam & Eve and My Older Daughter

23 February 2012

Ash Wednesday, the Day After

Yesterday, the children and I went to church together.  Since my older daughter is in Catholic school, she goes every Wednesday like a good little Catholic girl in training. 

My preschooler and I go as well but hover in the back and leave at the first bit of noise coming from the preschooler.  After all, the school is there to learn, not to listen to her shouts.

Since yesterday was a special day, I dressed up for the occasion (Read: No jeans).  Silently, without a word, that was all that was needed for the two girls to realize this is a special day.

We arrived in church together and my Kindergartner opened the door for me, as the students there do for others without being asked, understanding that it's polite to do so.  A woman came in behind us, we saw each other and greeted each other warmly in Polish.  We knew each other.

In church, my Kindergartner sat with us.  Impressively, the preschooler stayed in our pew and didn't make as much noise as she typically did.

She pointed to the sunlight streaming in through painted glass, Dawn lighting up the faces in attendance.

Some of the older children of the school walked down the aisle with symbols of the Catholic faith which the priest explains to those in attendance.  A purple cloak, a bag of coins, a crown of thorns, wheat, grapes, a handful of nails.  My Kindergartner searched in my eyes when the nails were walked past us.  I'm not sure what she was looking for but I squeezed her little hand.  She smiled and went back to watching the service.

When it was time to receive our ashes, we went together to receive them from one of the school teachers. 


"Remember that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return."  Genesis 3:19

This was not to let others know that we are fasting.  This was to remind us as individuals of God, his love for us, and our inevitability.  At least, that's how I always interpret it.

When we sat back in our pew, my preschooler pointed at each of our foreheads and said "Mama, dat you coss? Sissy, dat you coss?" 

When asked where her cross was, she pointed to her forehead and said "White heew".  Her voice, curious and soft, travelled through the church but nobody looked upset.  A few older parishioners smiled at her for a second and went back to prayer. 

Later in the service, she went to hug me while we stood to pray.  She drew back, looked at my forehead pensively and proclaimed "Mama, you dewty!" and laid her head on my shoulder.


*******


Later, at the grocery store, we spotted other "Dirty Forehead People" as my Kindergartner called Catholics on Ash Wednesday when she was 3 years old.  My children locked eyes with them for a second. 

My preschooler would touch her forehead occasionally and say "Dat my coss" to passersby.


*******


All night, she tossed in her toddler bed crying.  Occasionally, she would call out "No!  That Dewty!"  I'm not sure why she was so upset about the ashes but at only 2 years old, I'm sure the service was unusual for her.

Perhaps next year, we will get a better nights sleep following Ash Wednesday service...



Na razie...




An interesting article on ChicagoNow.com Nine words and Heaven

What's Up With the Ashes?

08 February 2012

Word(y) Wednesday: We Learned English

I'm sentimental.  I keep objects around me that remind me, give me strength. 

 
My husband says I'm a pack rat.  But I use these items.  They aren't clutter that sit collecting dust, having no value to anyone at all.

 
One of the things I love to collect are books.  I have 4 full sized bookcases filled with books. 

 
Some of the books I have a special place for are the books that remind me of our coming to Amerika.


 


These are the books I remember my parents pouring over at the dining room table, pencil and small notepads in hand.  Copying down words, sounding them out, writing them in sentences, erasing, rewriting. 


Asking me if I knew a word once I was in school. 


Writing and rewriting on small pieces of paper, checkered with blue lines.  The typical paper on which letters were written and mailed back and forth between family in Poland.  Letters that took one month to arrive to the USA, another month for the reply to be delivered in Poland.


My Tato (father) took a few English language classes for free after we came here.  My mother didn't.  Both poured themselves into Amerikan television, repeating sentences.  Reading books borrowed from the library, found at yard sales, anywhere we could get them. 


Stumbling over computer programming books written in English when computers first came out, because my Tato said that it "is the future"-even when others laughed at such a silly idea as computers.


Playing Rolling Stone songs and singing along.  Trying and trying and trying again.


To learn English because we came to Amerika.  We wanted to success, to be able to eat better food than boiled white rice, one extremely cheap piece of chicken or hot dog per person, a can of vegetables split between a family of four.


We wanted a hard earned piece of the Amerikan Dream.  And the Amerikan Dream didn't involve anyone learning Polish for our benefit.  It involved us learning English.  Or else living in poverty forever with no future at all.


I look at those books and remember struggle.  Persistence.  Tears of frustration.  Stumbled words.  Trying and trying again. 


Accents that I didn't hear because to me, they weren't accents.  It's how we spoke. 


I look at those books and I know all we lost and all we gained.


I would look up at Church and read the PNCC motto "With Truth, Work, and Struggle, We Will Succeed" and feel it deep in my heart because I knew it was true. 


I know we are strong.


Na razie...

 


Related Posts:

My Feet in Two Worlds, The Brutally Honest Truth of It

Bigger Picture Moments: Soft Boiled Eggs and a Reminder of a World of Love

Another Immigrant Family

Our Life Changing Anniversary

10 January 2012

Finnish Schools, Polish Schools, US Schools

I found an article titled "What Americans Keep Ignoring About Finland's School Success" which was written a couple of weeks ago and discussed the differences between the two countries methods and PISA test scores.  And what was continuously being brushed aside by Americans and was probably the most important key to the Finnish schools success.

I thought the article was interesting and decided I wanted to share it with you.



I also wanted to share some links to PISA test scores for other countries.

Poland 2000-2006 PISA scores, including explanations of education reforms.

PISA 2009 scores table for participating countries



What do you think about this large difference in education methods and test scores? 

Is your child in public school or private?  Mine at this point are in private school because I don't have any faith in the public school system where we currently live.

Would you want your children to have the same education as Finnish children have?  Personally, I would love that.  I think it holds true to the ideals set forth by both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.



As a complete side note, did you notice that the girls in the first article's photograph are dressed differently than American girls?  Can you tell the difference?  Every girl in the photo is wearing very little pink, more variety of colors, no cartoon characters, dressed for comfort and their hair is pulled up.  It seems subtle but compare a group of American girls the same age in dress attire and their hair styles and it's actually quite different.

Na razie...

05 January 2012

Winter

I loathe winter.  I loathe the cold.  I don't dislike it.  The cold seeps into my core and no matter how hard I try, I can't warm up.  And I can't shake the depression that overwhelms me, even with flax seeds, flax seed oil, fish and milk in my diet. 

I don't think it's Seasonal Affective Disorder anymore.  I think it's the lack of outdoor activity. 

There is a rhythm to the Earth.  A rhythm to walking on a dirt path, tree branches passing overhead, the grasses a tapestry of various hues hiding wildlife. 






The footsteps my heartbeat, the grasses the swishing of breathe, the hidden life a reminder that the world goes on.  There might be troubles with Iran and Syria and Wall Street and the Occupy Movement and SOPA.

But on the trail, they are gone.  They will be handled.  And I will have my strength when I return home to bear hearing my Babcia's voice telling me over and over how she wished in her life that we could spent more time together.

I reconnect with the earth and accept life as it is when I am outdoors.  I breathe in and out and feel everything is where it should be.

I can sense the life, people and animals and plants, that were on this soil before me.

I can sense the creation that has been before me, that is now, and that will create again when I am gone.  Call it Science, call it God, in the end, it is the same thing.  A wonderfully orchestrated amazing and unending Creator.  One that works with a rhythm.  Like feet on a trail in the woods.  A heartbeat.

In the cold winter, the frozen ponds and unceasing winds, there is no rhythm.  Not one I can hear.  There is only a rushed herding of children from house to car to building and a feeling of being breathless for a moment afterwards.

And then, that moment afterwards when the warmth returns to you, when you catch a breath that isn't so cold that it burns, when you feel your heartbeat again.

Santa Claus brought me a bearable winter this year.

It's January and just now the pond has finally frozen enough to bear my weight.  The geese are just now assembling and honking their way across the skies toward the warmth of the South.






My children's bare hands in my bare hands and we smile at each other and talk.  And our breathe doesn't hurt.

I can talk to them about the millions of shades of winter.  The browns, the blues, the muted greens and reds and yellows.  The animals sleeping.  Waiting for Spring.

We are walking.  The rhythm of the Earth beneath me.

Na razie...


Simple BPM


Related Posts:

Winter on the Prairie (January 2011)

Winter Wonderland (February 2011)

Frozen Pond (December 2011)

07 December 2011

Wordless Wednesday: Love for My Local Ethnic Store

I'm blessed because I can go to a local store near my house that specifically caters to a wide range of ethnic tastes.

Indian, Greek, Russian, Polish, Mexican, Honduran, Filipino, Egyptian, and so many more, all organized by ethnic background in a store the same size as a mega chain by my house.


Honey from all over the world, this one from Crete, Greece...


Beets, Dandelions, Dill, Curly Parsley, Watercress, Shallots (5 times the size of mega chain & 1/2 the price), Shiitake Mushrooms, Oyster Mushrooms, Marjoram (1/2 the price), Pastas, mustards, pickles, vegetable salads, jellies, and chocolates from Poland...



Curly Parsley, Dandelion, Watercress, Shallots, Mushrooms, Dill...



Sorrel and Polish pickles-To be used in soups...



Na razie...




Related Posts:

I Like My Pierogi Fried and With No "s" on the End...

How to Make Packet Kisiel

Why I Love the Polish Store






06 December 2011

Sw. Mikolaj in Photos

Dzien Sw. Mikolaj is a Polish and Catholic tradition that falls on December 6th every year.  The date is related also to the Polish tradition of Name Days


Last year, I shared with words about this day on Good Morning, Sw. Mikolaj!


This year, I thought I would share with photos...




The toddler's bed



The elementary school kid's bed



The presents are not expensive or large.  Merely some candy, a small toy and a small coloring book.  Just enough to make the children feel excited and special.


And also enough to create another small opportunity to talk about Poland and it's customs, Catholic faith and Christmas, gifts and where they should come from-the heart.


I know little moments like this are working because when we went to Keylime Cove over the weekend, she told Santa and his elves that the true meaning of Christmas was not the gifts.  That the true meaning was family and love.


Na razie...





Related Posts:


A Child's School Project About Christmas Traditions

Understanding Flower Traditions in Poland


Handmade Glass Christmas Ornaments

02 December 2011

The Golden Duck of Warsaw and Brewster's Millions

I love reading to my children bedtime stories.  But often times, there are only so many stories I can read to them before we are essentially retelling the same stories over and over in different versions.

Polish fairy tales are boundless and there are countless stories, if you can find them translated from Polish to English or can read Polish.

I remembered a story from my childhood about a golden duck and dug through my countless books about Poland and the various fairy tales I have from Poland. 

I found the story.  It's called the Legend of the Golden Duck of Warsaw (Złota kaczka).

The short version of the legend is that under the cellar of Warsaw's Ostrogski Castle, there is a golden duck which guards a treasure.  The finder can keep all the treasure if he or she can spend all of a certain amount of money on himself down to the last coin, all within a certain period of time. 

One popular version tells of a man who was lucky enough to find the Golden Duck, received the money for spending and was successful.  Until he had one coin left and gave it to a poor beggar and thus, with his generosity, lost the treasure.

I never really noticed before that the story reminds me of Brewster's Millions.  There are several film versions of the movie but they are all based on the 1902 book by George Barr McCutcheon. 

George Barr McCutcheon also wrote several novels based in  "Graustark, a fictional East European country" and Poland and Polish characters are regularly used in prominent and smaller characters throughout his novels.  McCutcheon was born in Indiana, which at the time had some Polish immigrants living there. 

Did McCutcheon have Polish ancestry?  I do not know.  It's certainly possible and it's also possible he wasn't.

It is also possible that McCutcheon might have learned of the Legend of the Golden Duck of Warsaw from nearby Polish immigrants living in Indiana.

I would love to learn if there is a direct correlation but for now, I will take it as a definite similarity between the two beautiful stories.

What do you think?

And, if you understand Polish or would still like to hear some, a video from Polish theatre of the Golden Duck of Warsaw.





Other Links Related to the Legend:

The Legend of the Golden Duck

The Golden Duck of Ostrogski Castle


Wikipedia's post on Złota Kaczka




Other Links Related to the Novel:


Wikipedia's post on Brewster's Millions

11 November 2011

Five Minute Friday: Today and Thank You

I walk past him in the cereal aisle.  His walk tired, deliberate.  His shoes black and polished, coat gray and an older style.  His hair just as gray.  His glasses black plastic, like my grandparents.

It isn't his glasses, his walk, or anything else that draws me to look him in the eyes.

He wears a baseball cap with the name of his regiment.  It's right there, in your face.  I served my country.

He is the same age as my Dziadek, the same age as my husband's grandfathers.  He was where they were.  You can tell.  In the trenches, fighting, swearing, praying, watching comrades fall.

My older daughter looks at him and smiles.  He smiles back and starts to hobble on, pushing his cart.

"Thank you for serving, sir," I tell him.  His eyes tear up a little.

My heart breaks.  I'm sure his has, many times over.

He nods a little, jerks his head a bit and walks on.

I walk on and begin to tell my daughters why I told him that.  What his hat meant.  Why you should respect those who served.  My family's own story serving and my husband's family stories.

The world's story.  And it's long, complicated.  I stop from telling them too much.  Let them have their innocence just a little bit longer.

My father's wisdom rings in my ears as I think about the little bit of food that was in that veteran's cart. 


The elderly and veterans should be taken care of.  They worked their whole lives and sacrificed everything for the next generation.



Na razie...




Today is both Veteran's Day and Poland's Independance Day.  How will you be observing?

An Interesting Article:  Homeless Veterans, By the Numbers



I joined Five Minute Friday today and just wrote for five minutes without pause what I feel.  You can join on The Gypsy Mama.


01 November 2011

It Isn't Just Another Day, It's All Saints Day

Being Polish, the day after Halloween always held something special.  Not something festive.  Something once again, as all Polish holidays are, ancient, deep rooted, symbolic, important.

In Poland, today is filled with people either taking off work or making a personal priority for this day.  Today is filled with cemeteries being visited, gravestones swept, washed and scrubbed, flowers and plants around each resting place tended.

Today is a day of Mass.  My older daughter goes to Catholic school and the toddler and myself attended Mass today along with the entire school and other community members.

At the entrance, an elderly lady told the school children who were entering the church, "If you pray for me, I'll pray for you" and beamed when the children in chorus replied "Yes, Ma'am."  I silently beamed as well, knowing that my older daughter was somewhere in that group acknowledging an elderly person and replying with respect to them.

I held the door open with my toddlers help for some elderly people to enter the church and they gushed at how precious my little one was as she pushed the door and called "I do it!  I big!"

While my toddler wiggled around and looked at a pretty colored piece of folded paper with the Mass Responses, I kept one eye on her and the other on the service.

The school children's voices rose with the various songs and responses.  There was a quiet hush as several hundred children listened quietly without talking or moving around as Father delivered his sermon about the various Saints and as several school children presented short prayers to various Saints.

The prayers that stood out to me were to Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, the patron saint of immigrants.  The child's voice presenting her struck me "Pray for the immigrants that they may live a happy and fulfilling life". 

The other prayer which was a prayer uttered every Mass in every Catholic church, no matter the day, "that our country's leaders may protect us and lead us to a world of greater justice and peace". 

When it was time to offer up our prayers, I prayed for the strength and wisdom to be a good mother to my children and find and keep my patience.  That my two Dziadki and my Babcia who had passed away will rest in peace.  That my husband's Busia may rest in peace and that his Grandpop may as well.  And that I, selfishly, may have more time to see my Babcia before she passes away.  And I send an apology to my departed grandparents that I am sorry we didn't get to spend time together in life.

After school, I plan on taking my two daughters to a local cemetery.  We will tend to a few abandoned graves and light candles on them.  We will say prayers that they may rest in peace.  And that some one out there is tending the graves of our own beloved who had passed away.  My husband's family buried in Maryland and my own buried throughout Poland.

In Maryland, we would go to Mass at our local Polish Catholic Church, Holy Cross.  A part of that Mass involved visiting the church's cemetery, special services and tending the graves and lighting the candles. 

I am out here in Illinois now.  There will not be anyone out there at the cemetery, I'm sure.  Definitely nobody I know.  So, I will have to do it on my own, holding my children's hands and hoping that they grow up carrying on this tradition.

I know one of my cousins is tending today to the graves of my grandparents on my father's side.  And I will send up a prayer to God thanking him for that.  And hoping that they all know how much I love them and miss them every single day.

Today is a day of mourning.

It isn't the anticlimactic end to Halloween.  It isn't a day of candy and goodies.  And it isn't for us, the Day of the Dead, full of festivities and food and celebration.  It's a day of prayer and of letting out all the feelings I hold inside of missing my family.  And not being able to be with them.

One day, I pray that I can tend their graves and light candles over them.  And that they know I love them. 

I leave you with some videos that capture the spirit of today.






A Brit's explanation...





And if you speak Polish...




I will share pictures of our lit candles either later today or tomorrow...

What do you do today?

Na razie...




Note:  Traditional Polish lanterns for use on All Saints' Day can be purchased at dom itp.

Disclaimer: An affiliate sale link is used in this post for those looking to purchase lanterns as is traditionally used on this holiday.


You might find interesting:

General Prayer and Reflection for Catholics

An Explanation of All Saints Day and All Souls Day in Poland

From Transparent Language's Polish Blog Święto Pamięci Zmarłych – All Saints’ Day, All Souls’ Day

27 October 2011

Rice Keugel

This is a Jewish dish but like many Jewish recipes, it can easily be mistaken for a Polish dish by an outsider since the two cultures lived side by side for so many centuries in Poland. 

All the ingredients used are typical in a Polska Kuchnia (Polish Kitchen) and are inexpensive.

When I was younger, my mother would occasionally make it along with a couple of other Jewish dishes when teaching us about Jewish culture.  I had mentioned before that my mother would make dinners themed around various cultures and countries and tell us different facts about that culture while we would cook and eat so that we would learn about the world while sitting around the dining room table.  I do the same thing now with my children.

If you like apples or rice pudding, you will enjoy this dish.

I made it at the request of my "dirty hippy" husband, who had not grown up with this or other Jewish dishes but who loves rice pudding.  It was a hit with the entire family.




Ingredients:


1/3 to 1/2 cup Raisins, soaked *
2-3 Apples, washed, peeled, and grated
1 large Egg
Pinch of Salt
1/3 cup Sugar
1 cup cooked Rice
5-6 tablespoons of Butter, softened at room temperature
2-3 tablespoons finely chopped Almonds
1 teaspoon Sugar

Optional:  1/2 teaspoon of Cinnamon, 1-2 tablespoons of Apricot Preserves and/or 1 teaspoon grated lemon peel, if you like



Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a baking pan.

Beat the Egg, Salt and 1/3 cup Sugar together.  Mix in Raisins, Apples, Rice, 1/4 cup Butter, the optional flavors such as Preserves, and Almonds. 

Add to baking pan.  Dot with a tablespoon or two of Butter and sprinkle with the teaspoon of Sugar.

Bake for about 35-45 minutes until browned.






Serve hot in a dessert dish.  You can garnish with a bit of fresh whipped cream, if you like.






Smacznego!




Notes: 


* The raisins can be soaked in hot water for about 10 minutes until plump.  If not serving to children, you can soak them in warmed brandy for a few minutes for an adult treat.


As it is described above, the recipe will come out like rice pudding.  If you want to make it come out thicker so that it can be cut like a cake, instead of 1 Egg, use 4 Eggs and instead of 1 cup cooked Rice, use 2 cups cooked Rice.  You would also want to cook it for just a few minutes longer.  We prefer it softer like a rice pudding.


You can make the recipe less sweet by cutting down the sugar amount after trying it this way first to see how you like it.




You might enjoy reading my syndicated post on BlogHer "I Am Raising Two Future Foodies" (15 Tips to Raising Adventurous Eaters).


If you liked this recipe, consider making a donation


13 October 2011

Another Immigrant Family

Sometimes, I forget how good I actually do have it.  How hard it was for us when I was a child.  How hungry we were and how little clothing and toys we had.


I remembered this photo of me when we had just come to this country a few months prior.





I'll tell you about the burn on my left hand another time.  Do you see that sofa?  Hideous.  Those gigantic slippers that didn't fit me?  My clothes.  This is the picture of an immigrant child.  And I'm proud of it.  Because it reminds me that we are a strong family.

Sometimes, I look at it and remember how good we have it.

This time, I cleared out half of my clothes in my closet and half of the hand-me-downs going to my toddler from the older daughter.  I also packed away a large trash bag worth of toys from each child.

And contacted Catholic Charities of Lake County, IL.  As far as I've ever eavesdropped heard, they had sponsored us to come from our refugee home in Austria to the USA.

I asked if it was possible to donate clothes and toys to an immigrant family and explained why.  They were more than willing to help me do this for someone else.

I took my daughters with me to make the donation.  I wanted them to see where our things were going, to what ended up being two separate new immigrant families in Lake County, IL.  That Mama had once been one in Baltimore.  That they should never forget that they, like all Americans, have immigrant roots and should treat those people with respect. 




I hope those two families find inspiration from our gifts.  I hope that their case workers tell them "This came from a fellow immigrant and her family and she wants you to know she believes in you and that you can do amazing things, just keep trying hard."

I don't know if that is what they will be told.  But I do know that after dropping off the donations, we said a prayer in our car that the families who receive our gifts find strength and courage to try hard.  And that they know they aren't alone.


Na razie...



Note:  You can donate to Catholic Charities as well.

30 September 2011

Getting Back Into Our Groove

It's been hard adjusting to living out here on the Prairie.  It's beautiful, but difficult.




I've been trying to keep an open mind and embrace a new experience and remind myself that uprooting myself and readjusting to new surroundings is in my blood, it's what I was born into.  But it has been hard.

There are just some things I am used to and won't compromise on because they are important to my parenting style. 

One of those things is a local farm.  Not just any kind, either.  We should be able to feed the animals, get to know some of the animals by name and allow the children to feel comfortable about them.  The farmer should be pleasant and a bit chatty (like me!), willing to show me what's fresh or new, talk about the harvest, recipes, etc. in front of the children so that this becomes a natural part of their vocabulary.

We should be able to go picking in the fields for more than the occasional pumpkin, strawberries and apples so that the children have a broad understanding of how their food is grown.  Also, I've learned through personal experience that children are more likely to eat vegetables they picked themselves.

And I shouldn't have to pay money to enter either, just for a pony ride or produce or whatever we should do to or purchase.

It should be a farm that won't take every dollar I have for fun for the whole week to enjoy and should be one that makes it easy for us to visit once or twice a week.

We had been missing Hubers Farm and Webers Cider Mill Farm, among others which we were extremely familiar with back in Maryland.  Being on a first name basis with your local farmer and knowing that our food is fresh and not several weeks old before we purchase it is important to us.

Well, I'm happy to say we found the perfect local farm!  Stiles Vegetable Farm & Greenhouse.  It's actually in Wisconsin but it's the closest to us that fit our needs.  Perhaps we will find others as well as time continues.

Meet the rooster we are now on a first name basis with...





Isn't he handsome?  He likes grapes and when you call his name, he comes running up to you and begs for food.

My toddler found him walking out from behind the counter and started whispering "Mommy!  Mommy!  Ook*!  Ook, a chicken, Mommy!  Silly chicken (insert adorable toddler giggle)!"

She kept watching him and feeding him with grapes and corn.  She followed him around the whole farm stand like she was his little puppy, constantly stopping to laugh "Silly chicken!" and he kept pausing in his quest for food to allow her to catch up with him.

We purchased fresh ginger (I am hoping to make Thai peanut sauce noodles for myself today), tomatoes, sugar baby and Italian plums, green onions, and local raw honey.


Raw honey straight from the comb on the left...



My toddler ate raw corn and an Italian plum while I paid and found out about other activities around town that I could take her to do.


The lady farmer was knowledgeable, warm, and her husband is Polish so we talked about different types of pierogi.

When we got in the car, my toddler kept talking about the ducks and chicken and the corn until we picked up her sister.  She told everyone who would listen outside the school about them.  She told her Daddy hours later about the ducks and chicken and showed off the honey she had picked out.  She told her Dziadek about feeding the animals and about the baby ducks we saw and gave him a tomato and said "Eat dis, Dziadek!"

I think we will be fine.  We are getting back into our groove finally.

Na razie...


* Ook in toddler-speak means look



Some interesting resources about local farms in the Wisconsin and Illinois area

Wisconsin Local Farms (not a complete list but still worth checking out)

American Farmland Trust (Support local farms and check out their current effort "No Farms No Food" and information)

Local Harvest has a great tool for finding local farms, farmer markets, and other "sources of sustainably grown food in your area" including grass fed meats, etc.

The State of Illinois's Agricultural Department has a great Kids Page

I received no compensation for mentioning the farm we went to or for sharing any of the links above.

19 September 2011

I Am Raising Two Future Foodies

After putting my toddler to bed couple of nights ago, I went and snuggled with my older daughter for a bit.  We don't do this every night but I like to sneak little moments with each child alone so that we can have real conversations.  Like this one.

"Mommy, when I grow up I want to travel all over the world and try their foods.  I want to go to Canada, and Austria, oh, and France! (grabs my face with both her hands and looks in my eyes) Mommy, I am definitely going to go to Poland so I can try every single one of their foods.  (turns head back toward the ceiling) And Russia would be fun!  Maybe China, too.  Wouldn't that be fun?"


I kissed her cheek and told her that it sounded like a lot of fun.

She giggled and said "But I'm not eating Sea Cucumber.  That's the poopy hole of the ocean."  Thank you, Andrew Zimmern.



Some tips for raising adventurous eaters:

1.  Start while you are pregnant.  According to a new study (one of many on this subject), babies start tasting the foods their mother eats while still in the womb.

2.  If at all possible, breastfeed.  And eat a varied diet with lots of fresh vegetables, spices and flavorful healthy foods.  Just because you don't like a food doesn't mean you can't eat a bit of it once in a great while to expose baby to it.  Baby can taste what you eat in your breast milk, after all.

3.  Don't forget the spices.  When introducing baby to solids, remember that spices can be used to give vegetables and fruits a more complex flavor once it is safe to do so.

4.  Keep exposing baby to new foods throughout their life.  Taste buds keep changing as children grow.  We have a rule in our house, you have to take two bites of every new food.  If you don't like it after, you don't have to eat it, but you do have to try it.

5.  Give your child more credit.  They might love more foods than you realize.  Or more foods than you like. 

6.  Never say in front of a child that you don't like a food.  Never.  This was our problem with our first daughter since my husband a couple of times made comments about not liking vegetables and so did a few other friends and family.  Those couple of small meaningless comments led to a battle for over a year where my older daughter did not want to eat any vegetables and of course became constipated and more irritable.

7.  Travel with your child.  It doesn't matter where to.  To another town, another country.  And don't allow them to eat their "comfort foods" while there.  I told my older daughter there were no french fries or macaroni and cheese in Poland while we were there.  She ate other foods and loved it.  The same when we have traveled to West Virginia, Delaware, Georgia, and even moved to Illinois from Maryland. 


8.  Take a cultural theme and build a meal around it.  We have had Swiss, South African, Tunisian, Russian, Mexican, British tea parties, and other themed dinners.  While eating the foods from these countries, we talk about the country and it's culture.  You can make this more fun by making a culinary "passport" which your child can put a stamp in for each country you "visit" together.


9.  Try a restaurant that is outside your norm.  Check out a local Indian restaurant, a Peruvian restaurant or even an authentic Italian restaurant and order something that you don't normally think of when you think of Italian food.


10.  Have a "cultural" potluck with other families and assign each person a different country or ingredient.


11.  To me, this is the biggest tip to remember.  Show your children where their foods come from.  Go to a farm weekly if possible and learn firsthand where foods come from, perhaps even have them pick their own foods.  Go to local food distributor plants or manufacturers and tour their plant, if possible.  Think dairy farms, ice cream manufacturers, candy factories, bakeries, local butchers, a plant where pickles and other canned foods are made, etc.


12.  Let your children help you cook.  They will be much more likely to eat muffins made with raisins, ground flax seed, and applesauce if they can stir the ingredients together.  Or eat a salad if they helped tear up the leaves.


13.  Put on cooking and travel shows.  Your children might not watch it, but they might glance over and see it or hear it.  Ask me how my daughter knows about people eating Sea Cucumber and Andrew Zimmern (see above).


14.  Don't become a shortorder cook.  If your child won't eat it, you don't have to make them something else.  If they are growing fine and the pediatrician has no concerns about them being underfed, you can leave the plate on the table and offer it again when they say they are hungry later.  My older daughter doesn't eat as much sauerkraut as she would "noodles" (fried cabbage) but I won't make her something else for dinner when I serve sauerkraut.


15.  Keep trying.  If my mother had not kept trying, I would not love half the foods I love.



Nie od razu Kraków zbudowano (Krakow wasn't built all at once).  The same goes for raising a child to be an adventurous eater. 

Na razie...


This article is now syndicated on BlogHer!


14 September 2011

Wordless Wednesday: Adam & Eve and My Daughter


Picking up my daughter from Catholic school a couple of days ago, I looked in her folder and was ready to compliment her on her artwork when another parent saw this:


 


He is a new parent to the school and frankly not my type of person.  He looked at the picture, said in a slightly hushed voice to me, "Adam and Eve were black?"  He grimaced a bit like it was something a bit odd, glanced at my daughters kindergarten teacher and walked away.

His tone and expression told me he thought one of the following:  "What are they teaching kids here?!", "Adam and Eve were white, not black!", or "Your daughter is weird".

I waited until we got home.  My two daughters had overheard him and seen his expression and I did not want some random person having more influence over my daughters view of life than I do.

I opened the folder at home and beamed at all her work.  Everything had a smile stamp or this "very Nice!" sticker on it and was done perfectly.  I complimented her on each piece and she smiled proudly.

I held this art in my hands last.  I asked her, "Sweetie, I love the way you colored in the lines and used your crayons to really make this picture look realistic.  Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded.  "Sure, Mamo."

"Why did you color in Adam and Ewa (Eve in Polish) black?  It's not wrong, I'm just curious."

She glanced at it, shrugged and said, "That's the skin color crayon that I found."

I nodded and said, "And you coloring in their skin color as black is perfectly fine because...." and I trailed off so that she could finish the thought in her words.

She looked at me with a smile, "Because some people are black!"

I hugged her.  I told her, "That's right.  Some people are black, some people are red, yellow, white.  We are all different, aren't we?"  She nodded and told me about a song they were learning in school that celebrated this and talked about different skin colors.  Jesus Loves the Little Children*.

I had another thought.  She may be in Catholic school and I may want her to find comfort in believing in God if she chooses to, but I wasn't going to take history, fact, and genetics and human evolution and science away from her or her sister. 

"You know, nobody from the time of Adam and Ewa is still alive.  We have no idea what color they were."

"So, they could have been black?" my daughter asked.

I nodded, "They could have been any color for all we know."

She started playing with the Smurf doll her little sister handed her.

I patted her back, hung this on the refrigerator, and told her, "This is your artwork, you can make it any way you want to."

Because it is her art work.  Not that man's. 

She sees that the world is full of different people and that none of us is better than another based on appearance.  I want her to know that.



*Lyrics to Jesus Loves the Little Children

Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in his sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.





Na razie...

13 September 2011

My Babcia on Volunteering and Children

I called my Babcia yesterday.  During the usual questions she asked me, she found out that I am a lunchroom mom again this year like last year.

I found out what she thought of volunteering at school.  That it was every parents responsibility to help at school in some way.  That children's education does not and cannot fall squarely on the shoulders of teachers. 

My Babcia told me that she volunteered every week at my father and Wujek's school, even when they were in Teknologia (Technology school which some students did instead of high school, the education system in Poland is entirely different from the US education system, with students beginning work skills training at a younger age and for a longer time into college). 

My Babcia often helped the teacher with writing the papers, after all, this was before computers, before printers.  Hand outs, paperwork had to be typed and written each piece at a time.

My Babcia worked full time all this time, made home cooked meals every single day, went to church every single Sunday, had a small garden that she tended and used to grow much of my family's food.

My father and Wujek were clothe diapered at a time when all children were in clothe diapers, when clothing was washed either by hand or using machines which were essentially tubs that were handfilled with water from the tap and had a "wrangler" on the top.  Machines that had to be emptied by hand.  My Babcia did all this and made her own baby food because that was just what you did.


I have to add that my Babcia fled Poland to France at the start of WWII, then came to America, not to return to Poland until the war was over.  She then met my Dziadek, married, and had two children which were raised under the USSR's rule and Communism.  Poland was a burned shell of what she had left and had to slowly be rebuilt.  Food lines were common.  Store shelves bare of food were a common sight.

My Babcia told me she was proud of me because perhaps my presence at the schools will inspire other parents.  And perhaps I can be an inspiration to some child there who perhaps isn't as fortunate as my daughters, this in my Babcia's words translated to English.

My Babcia then went on to tell me that she was finally working on throwing away old cans of food that she had made over the years.  So much food had she carefully cultivated in her garden, harvested, brought home on the bus, washed and canned.  And placed under her bed because there was no room for a pantry in her apartment.

All to be thrown away because now they were old and she was all alone and couldn't eat it all.

I wanted to be there with her to help her.  But I can't.  I am here instead.

We ended our conversation after a while with the same professions of love that always end our conversations.  A reminder from her that I am the first grandchild.  A reminder to her that she was my first and most beloved Babcia and that I would always remember that she was the one who brought me home from the hospital. 

My telling her that I prayed that the old house would soon sell so that we could come see her again and her saying that she would pray for that also very much because she really missed us. 

Wishes for colorful dreams. 

Love all the way to Heaven. 

Buska Buska Buska Pa.

I can't help but draw inspiration from her.  And hope that I can see her again.  Soon.

Na razie...



Other Posts:

Calling Babcia

The Dolls I Left Behind