On her last visit, my mother brought over a box of things that she’d saved over the course of my childhood: early drawings, high-school term papers, first stories and notes. Looking forward to a trip down memory lane, I began to sort through them. Within moments two things became evident. Firstly, that my mother went through all of my trash (a love letter from my first boyfriend, which includes the depressingly spelled “arection” proves this point). And secondly, she apparently chose only to fish out the things that would most embarrass me.
Where are all the well-executed drawings, the A plus papers, the naive and yet endearing journal entries? They are long gone, and in their place exist all manner of horrors. A grade school essay on Goya (don’t ask) is particularly misinformed, and a drawing from my early years, in which I’ve lovingly adorned a list that my mother herself has written, is earnest enough to break your heart.
The list, entitled “Stuff That Makes Mom Happy”, places “being alone” and “working” in the top slots, and goes on to include fishing, running, and ballet class in consecutive order. (Spending time with her daughter is, needless to say, conveniently missing.) My mother has also contributed her own cartoon horse to the edge of the drawing, and with it’s back to the viewer, the horse is quite obviously running away.
I am surprised how much I have enjoyed raising two boys. From the moment I found out I was having my first boy, I thought, no way, I don't even know what to do with a boy...I'm a girl. Somehow its all worked out.
One of the most popular Parisian street foods are crêpes. You can buy them filled with just about any sweet filling, including fruit preserves and chocolate. But savory crêpes, also popular in France though much less known outside of the country, actually have a different name; they are called galettes. Thinner and larger than crêpes, they are made with buckwheat flour, a soft flour with an earthy flavor. The region of Brittany is very famous for its galettes, which can be filled with any number of savory fillings.
Every mother needs a signature cookie. Even if it’s one you buy—like a fresh-from-the-bag Pepperidge Farm Milano. Or a local, corner-bakery, purchased elephant ear. Of course, it’s best, when the kids look back, if the signature cookie is one you baked.