Penne, preschool and presence

I love to cook. I view cooking as a creative outlet and I'm not particularly concerned with producing a gastric masterpiece each and every time. I tend to get a little more particular when I'm cooking for people outside of immediate family, but not enough to, you know, measure stuff. I have had a few raging successes over the years and more than a few bombs, but they always make for great stories - some of which we're still telling. I have to remember to post about the time I ruined Thanksgiving by making the mashed potatoes early and putting them in the crockpot. (Bottom line: Don't do it. You're welcome.)

While I'm relaxed by the creativity and complexity of cooking, when I'm cooking for myself, I always default to my comfort food: Penne pasta, butter and a little salt.

My grandma always made us "noodles" when we ate meals at her house and we were allowed to pick what we wanted to eat. When we were getting over a stomach bug, it was a big day when we could graduate from toast to buttered noodles. When I was pregnant with Abby, it was one of the only things I could hold down for the first three months. Noodles and I have history. They're comforting, they're versatile and they never disappoint.

I spent some time with Martha over the weekend and I've been thinking about how she's the friendship equivalent to buttered noodles. She's one of my friends who is always there to offer comfort and concern, she's always up for simplicity and meaning in time spent together, and she's got a zany sense of humor that throws on a bit of salt to keep things tasty and interesting.

Martha has patience I could never come close to attaining. Case and point: Her day job is a teacher aide at a preschool. Some of the stuff those kids bring to her definitely make her a candidate for sainthood. Think about it: She's the one teaching our cherubs how to sit on the carpet, stand in line and not to pee outside during recess, even if it would be easier. Preschoolers don't yet have a filter, so they're the ones dropping some of the language they hear at home, just to try it out. They cry and pee and throw stuff and fight over toys. But they also hug and cuddle and ask fun questions and provide unconditional love. That's the part that Martha tends to focus on, but she handles the other fiascos with not an insignificant amount of grace.

Martha told us about a kid who asked about a necklace she was wearing one day - it had large, multicolored stones and boxes. Like kids do, he spent a bit of time staring at her. He then asked, "how do you get those rocks on there?"

This is where Martha and I are different. I would have told him that they're beads and that someone puts them on a string and adds a clasp to create a necklace. But Martha responded, "How would you do it?"

It started a conversation with him and two other kids about how to approach the project. One girl suggested taking a hammer and pounding the rocks on the string. They continued to ponder the question until the little boy who asked the question in the first place said, "A drill - you need to drill holes in the rocks and then add them to the string."

Martha was proud that he thought it through and remarked at what a bright little boy he was. Teachable moment. Boom.

I love it when seemingly unrelated parts of your life inform other parts of your life. For most of my career, I have earned money by providing people with advice. There are many times family and friends come to me for advice on any number of topics.

What Martha taught me, and what I need to remember, is that when that happens, sometimes the best option is to be present, be willing to provide questions and guidance, and to help them think through solving the problem themselves.

That's part of growth - we learn by doing. One of the ways we can support growth is to give people the autonomy and confidence to figure it out. That takes presence. It takes patience. It takes a willingness to listen. It takes confidence. It takes comfort.

I have thought a lot in the last day or so about how lucky those kids are to have Martha in their lives.

I'm lucky, too.