Polish Obiad?

In Poland, the biggest meal of the day is lunch.

Lunch, however, comes after sniadania and drugi sniadania—which means first and second breakfast.  Yes.  It’s true.

And, of course, after a spot of tea, as well 😉

You would think that in a country where all they do is eat that they would be rolling everywhere.

But no.  They are thin.  Don’t be jealous.  I’ll host those feelings for you (smile and wink).

After their two breakfasts and tea, Obiad finally comes into play…

It looks something like this:  soup, potatoes, meat, and coleslaw.

If you’re lucky, you also get dessert—homemade cake.

No.  I have never conformed to this culture.  Except for eating it all.

When I was at the grocery store yesterday, I thought “You know—these items are quite different than the American grocery shelf—perhaps I’ll take a few photos and invite you over for lunch.”

The question is, “Do you want to come?”

Wait to see what I have to offer, and then you can let me know 🙂

First up:  my favorite pet—the bunny!

Although it doesn’t look as fluffy skinned, does it?

Next:  The bloody liver sausage!  And, yes.  I’ve eaten it.  My students served it to me after I served them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Sounds like a fair trade, eh?

Yum yum?

What’s my opinion?

It’s salty.

But this was nothing compared to that Scottish haggis I ate once.

Last on the menu today—just for you—smoked trout.  Whole.  Eyes and all.  I am sure you will love it!

How do you eat it?  Why just punch, pull, and pop it into your mouth.

What does it taste like?

In my desert rat opinion—it tastes like it looks.  But Europeans love their fish served 1001 ways, so don’t tell them it’s not my favorite.

Don’t fret.  Although their main meal of the day is in the middle of the afternoon, they still have something like a snack time around 4-5 and then kolacja (supper/dinner) later.

No, I’m not joking.

And it usually consists of either Belgian  waffles that they call gofry, crepes (nalesniki), soup, pierogi, or simply kanapki (sandwiches).

Do I cook like a Polish mom or babcia (grandma)?

This should answer your question:

“Mom, what’s for dinner tonight?”

“Dry cereal.  Eat as much as you want. Wash it down with some water.  Smacznego, my darlings!”

***

How about you?  How does the community around you eat?  

I am a SAHM. I should get used to it.

I am a working mom—yet find myself home nearly every day with my kids.  And it’s glorious but not glamorous.

I had a lot of fun one day documenting segments of my day with my kids.

Here is my glorious but definitely not glamorous life.

Get popcorn!

Xob

What you do for your children’s critters!

Is Cami finally happy 😉 ?  Nah.

Two kittens found their way into our basement.  The kids were thrilled!

Seriously—my bald baby has no idea how disgustingly dirty our basement floor actually is.  Gag!

If I wasn’t already the overly tired nearly 40 yr old mother of toddlers—I would have more energy for this 😉

Yes…to reiterate—I am wearing clothes.  Just meant I couldn’t head outside because was too chilly for my basketball shorts, tank top, and flip flops 😉

I actually filmed so many more but they refused to download.  Perhaps it was an electronic rebellion,eh?!

God bless—and kiss those crazy babies.  Glamorous or glorious—all moments are treasures.

Xo b

Best Belgian Waffles in the World. Not sure Belgium would agree?

I have to cook a lot for my son at home.

You may find it crazy. I used to. Until I had him.

Him being the cutest little 2-year-old in the entire world. Biased? Definitely YES!

He is a miracle—did you know he tried to die? So many times! Like a ridiculous amount of plenty.

In the womb. Out of the womb.

Crazy boy.

My crazy, crazy boy!

And since the womb and his coma didn’t kill him, he went and got all peanut-allergy-d on me. Making my life just so much more simple.

RIGHT?!

Never! and Not!

And, therefore, since my little stinker is so beautifully ALIVE===I work ridiculously hard each and every day (with his daddy and his big sister) to keep him amongst us!

We are rather fond of our troublemaker. Like. REALLY FOND of him.

He is our Maxie Moo—and we are his family. His earth protectors.

Therefore, we pray each day and night—basically 24/7—for our little man. “LORD, thank you for keeping him alive—help us do right by him!”

And we make him most every single item that goes into his mouth.

Last night for dinner it was WAFFLES.  Let me tell you, they were brilliant!

You should know that we have made lots and lots of waffles since we’ve returned to Poland—but this is by far the MOST SCRUMPTIOUS recipe yet (obviously it’s not mine).  So, I thought you should have a go at it, too.

The alterations I, of course, made:  Rice milk instead of real milk, and we added 1 tsp of real Vanilla.  I do believe the trick is folding in the egg whites.  It really does make them perfectly crisp and delicious.

As we say in Poland, “Smacznego!”  Enjoy your waffles and tell me what you think:

The Best Belgian Waffles (click to go to recipe)

And, because the internet is awhirl right now with the tragic recent deaths of children that have eaten food items from places outside of their homes…I am realizing just yet again and again how scary this Mommy to Max thing is.

Here’s an article so well written and speaks as if it came from my own heart, too:

What Happens When Another Child Dies From Food Allergies?

Here are also a couple articles I have written in the past in regards to my own allergy-living son:

Raising a Nutty Kid

Cooking for Max

You can also read all about his story on his Facebook page that was set up for him when he was in a coma between the throes of life and death here:  Prayers for Max.

Last but never the least—the siblings of the allergy or special children-like Max-often get overlooked.  And yet they strive so gallantly forward with brave faces.  Our daughter, however, broke one day.  Here is a story I wrote after one panic attack she had.  May we remember all in our brood===even though, sometimes, it is so easy to focus on the one that needs the most protection (or the most obvious protection–because the others seem to appear “just fine” on the outside, right?!) :  I forgot to feed my daughter.  And we sent her to a counselor.

Anyhow, as you spring into another day, I hope that you think about making these scrumptious waffles for breakfast, lunch, or dinner—there’s pretty much no bad time to indulge in them!

Here’s the proof:

The oldest, Adelyne!  She approves.  With lots and loads of whipped topping, sprinkled with chocolate milk power on top of the already sweet.  Ah, well.  At least she was fed, right?!

GoGo stuff it in your face girl—until she discovered Sissy’s whipped cream…

That’s when she really went to town on them!

And, finally, the little Moo Man himself enjoying his only Max margarine waffles.  He did not want jam or anything else I offered.  But, to be fair, they are perfect just the way they are!

Max’s glad bites are proof of that!

Try the recipe.  Have some reads.  And come on back and let me know what you think!

As always…

xoxo from here to there!

b

I didn’t wear my wedding ring.

Have you ever lost your glasses that were at the end of your nose?  Or your hat that was on top of your head?

Well, I definitely have.  And did.  Just the other day.

You see, I was at work the other day. I work on the computer for a large portion of my time, as I work on sharing stories and finding supporters for our foundation, Bread of Life Ministries (click here!)…

It’s a very daunting job—but I would not have ANY other job.  Here is a a throwback photo of a donation made so that we could build a new soup kitchen!

To know all of the children, men, and women that we get to see served a bowl of soup, a new pair of glasses, an opportunity for counseling, life-saving cancer treatment, an education in Western Africa where most that we serve live on $2.00 or less a day, or a night of safety in a rescue center, is worth every minute that we do not sleep at night worrying about where the money will come in to help rescue these precious people!

And, to be fair to God, he does tell us not to worry about tomorrow.  That’s just a hard one to accept.

Anyhow, it happened.

I was at work when I glanced down at my hand.  That’s when I saw it.  Or didn’t see it!

My MISSING wedding ring.

I panicked.  Not because my husband would be upset if I wasn’t wearing my ring—he knows he’s always been my one and only hottie.  I panicked because I have a 14-month-old daughter that is at a stage in her life that is THROWING EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!

I mean, really.  She literally goes to the refrigerator and takes something out of it and then goes straight to the trashcan and giddily throws it away.  I should have filmed her the other day.  It was as if she had discovered Disneyland in our very own kitchen.  Except the rides were her feet and the thrill was the trash can.

That is why, when I didn’t see my wedding ring, I panicked.

Where did I put it?  On the table at home?  In the bathroom?  On the counter?

Did I lay it down and then get distracted by doing my hair or makeup?

Oh my.  Oh my.  Oh my.  Oh my!

I still worked the rest of the day, but as soon as I got home, I looked everywhere for my wedding ring.  My search was fruitless.  I couldn’t find it anywhere.

And then suddenly it hit me.  BAM!

This was the very thought that ran through my mind, “Check your left hand!”

Sure enough, I looked at my left hand and there on my “Ring Finger” was my wedding ring!

Say what?  You may ask.

Let me clear your confusion.  For nearly a decade or more, I have been wearing my wedding ring on my right hand like they do in Poland.  And, for some odd reason that morning, I must have absently placed it on my left hand and forgot all about it.  Especially since I frantically looked at my right hand all day and concocted crazy scenarios about where my wedding ring went.

Like the glasses at the end of our nose or the hat on top of our head, my ring finger on my left hand was natural—and yet, at the same time, unnatural.  So unnatural, that I didn’t even think to look on my left hand for my ring when it went missing 😉

I guess my little trash-throwing daughter is off the hook—for now—in this dual-culture case of “The Missing Ring”.