Twinkle: Always Starting Out Behind the 8-Ball With These People

And the 8-ball is you, Mr. Twinkle.

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What's that you say? My father-in-law's going vegan? And Fun Sink's out of town, so he needs a hot meal? No problem--I make delicious and healthy vegan meals all the time, and I can make something so wholesome and hearty he won't even miss the meat. It'll stick to his ribs and warm him up on a cold winter night, and he'll leave singing my praises and wondering why Fun Sink can't cook a vegan meal as well as I can.

This is a man who loves his steak and potatoes. In the past, he has made fun of my SIL and her husband, and how strict they are with Sophie's food, and how annoying their eating habits are, and how all the foods they prepare at their house suck. Which they do. And I am so the opposite of that--I really try to make healthy meals that don't suck, but are actually pleasurable. I should have known better than to try to create pleasure for any of these martyrs. I should have known it would backfire.

At 8 a.m. I get to work peeling 5 lbs. of potatoes, which will be the crowning glory of a delicious meatless shepherd's pie, complete with various root vegetables and mushrooms. I chop and sauté all day. I put vegetable broth and a little red wine in a jar with arrowroot powder and shake. There are a lot of vegetables in there, and I know my FIL hates vegetables, so I throw in a little cooked pasta to bulk it up. There's a suggestion about serving the recipe with a vegan gravy. I make vegan gravy, and that b*tch tastes exactly like real gravy, only better because I knew it wasn't filled with flour and grease.

5:45: the vegan shepherd's pie comes out of the oven, and the vegan gravy has been strained into a gravy boat. We sit down to dinner. No one touches the vegan gravy but me. (Turns out Jews aren't gravy people. They never know what's in it. Although, since this was a vegan gravy, they should have been confident that it was safe for them).

Come to find out FIL's not only a vegan, but also a nutritarian. This means he doesn't eat pasta or potatoes because they don't have the maximum nutritive value per calorie, so basically I made the wrong dinner. I tried to give him a hearty vegan alternative to a salad (which he hates and makes fun of), to prove to him that vegan meals don't have to be cold and boring and a convenient outlet for everyone's martyr complex, but he actually wanted a salad all along. (Actually, I served a salad, too). The worst part is that Mr. Twinkle knew this but failed to mention it. He thought he told me--not just vegan, nutritarian. I think I would have remembered that. I even told Mr. Twinkle I was making shepherd's pie--it would have been nice if he'd told me his father is currently off potatoes.

Also, y'all know Twinklette likes to throw me under the bus every chance she gets. I made her some buttered noodles for dinner, because...1). I was busy with the shepherd's pie all day, 2). I did not want to have a battle at the dinner table during a nice meal, so I gave myself a break tonight. She starts going on and on about how she loves buttered noodles and she doesn't have enough butter and she needs more butter and double the butter, please, and mommy I need more butter on these noodles. FIL goes, "Is that what she has for dinner every night?" No, for f*ck's sake, it is not, and I'm sorry I was so busy making the wrong thing for your dinner that I did not have time to prepare a lean protein and kid-friendly fruit salad for Twinklette. Is that what she has for dinner every night? Can you imagine?

Now, I like my FIL, and I wish he would have a little more confidence in me about what I feed my child. I know he didn't mean it b*tchy, but there's so much emotional baggage caught up with food in that family. The fact is that most nights I try to make her a healthy meal that she will actually eat, and on this particular night I was trying to make him a healthy meal that he would actually enjoy. But how can I ever get anything right when I don't have all the information? The worst part is knowing he actually would have preferred being up there with Fun Sink and my SIL, picking at a plate of raw spinach and unflavored quinoa, instead of enjoying a meal that is healthy and also delicious, and one that I worked very hard on for him. I wanted to win him over, but I can't do that as long as I'm uninformed.

I feel like I wasted a chance to win over someone who is usually squarely in my corner, and I would have liked to have given him a meal that was actually on his diet. I can't be expected to follow dietary restrictions that I know nothing about; it would have been nice to have been informed.

Still, he did ask for seconds.

Twinkle: An Inevitable Downton Abbey Analogy

Baby B has RSV, so we skipped ballet class in favor of snuggling up for a little Downton Abbey viewing party. (Yes, Julep...this is the life of a girl mama). And I totally realized something: I am the Lady Edith of Mr. Twinkle's family. My SIL is, of course, Lady Mary. No one would ever consider her a Mary in real life, which is why being Edith to her Mary within the family is even harder to tolerate.

I've never considered myself an Edith in my real life...I don't have sisters to compare myself with, so, while I like the saga of the Crawley sisters, I can't personally identify with anyone but their mother, Cora. Anyway, in my normal day-to-day life, I don't feel like an Edith because some people (Mr. Twinkle, my family, you all) seem to like me and want me around, and I also have much better taste in men. But I realized that, to Fun Sink, I am totally Edith. Always lacking what she wants me to be, always less than. Never quite as good as Mary; always desperate to prove her worth but never measuring up or even being given the chance to rise to the occasion.

And I think that is why it's so hard for me to even go over there. When I have to, I consider it a study in humility. I go about my life, doing my thing, considering myself an equal to the people I see. And then I go over there, and suddenly everyone's treating me like Edith. It's very jarring. And then I leave, and I'm me again.

Thank goodness.

Julep: On mothers and daughters

For Christmas this year, I gave J-Mama a book club: a list of books for the two of us to read and discuss over the course of the year. We had our first meeting at the Panera Bread on Saturday morning. I liked the book, and I really liked hearing her perspective.

I realized this weekend how lucky I am that I have had so many years to get to know my mother as an adult - and I want to spend as much time with her as I can. When my mom was my age, she still had 25 more years of time with her own mother. I hope I am going to have that much time with J-Mama. I was always pretty close to my mom, but I treasure her now in a way that I never did before. I don't know whether that is because I have become a mother myself and I realize how much of her guidance I am going to need to bring this child to a happy, healthy, high-functioning adulthood - why wasn't I taking better notes when she was raising me right? - or because J-Mama's health prospects have become precarious with the whole Parkinsonian thing.

I think you girls are aware that we are back on the list with the adoption agency. I would love to have a girl, and Mr. J is pulling for another boy, so we are leaving this up to fate. Of course I don't know for sure - since I didn't even grow up with a brother - but I can't help but think that the mother-daughter connection is something that just isn't the same with sons. Do y'all know the old line "A son is a son 'til he takes a wife, but a daughter's a daughter all of her life"? Maybe I only think that is true because my family has always been kind of a matriarchy. I still miss my grandmama, and I know that J-Mama misses her too. In the years before Grandmama moved north to the assisted living, after she stopped driving and was getting elderly, J-Mama went to visit her every day. She has told me so many times how glad she was they had that time together.

J-Mama told me last month - after years of saying that she would never retire, she'd work until she died - that she talked to her financial advisor and she thinks she will retire in three years, at 62. She figures she will stay busy by picking my kids up after school every day. May we all be so lucky that her plan comes to fruition.

Julep: On that note...

Dibbs, I just read this article and thought of your post!

I quote: "No, online dating is not a joy. It is a horrific den of humanity...." Does she read ADRG?