My husband doesn't want to have sex with me?!

Before my husband and I got married we dutifully read quite a few books on marriage. A friend introduced us to Gary Chapman's "The Four Seasons of Marriage". The author eloquently depicts our experience in marriage as ever changing like the seasons. I recall reading this book and thinking, "Oh, my husband and I will NEVER go through winter in our marriage! We love each other too much!" How so innocently naive I was.

I remember the first time my husband did not want to have sex with me. It was though someone had punched me in the stomach leaving me breathless. The rejection I felt in that moment was palpable. I could not understand why my husband, who had just vowed his life to me shy of one and half years ago did not want to ravish my body in that moment? I conceded, rolled over in bed and figured tomorrow was a new day. That one night turned into weeks. I became frantic. The voice of insecurity in my head was deafening. "What's wrong with you???" My heart knew that this was the beginning of a very cold and harsh winter. Over the next few months my husband and I became very cold with one another. Our words, that once uplifted and encouraged one another became tools to tear one another down. I did not know this man. I did not like this man. These thoughts frightened me. How could I feel this way about a man that I chose to spend the rest of my life with? Would I raise our children in a home with someone who I viewed as a roommate? I felt utterly hopeless.

My heart began to harden toward this man who I loved. As much as I loved him I hated him. I began to pray fervently. In this time of quiet reflection I realized that while I was listening to the bitter voices in my head I wasn't listening to my husband. He was struggling. It had nothing to do with me. He had just lost his mother and he desperately needed me. He needed me to give him space. And in that space he needed me to hold him there. Hold him in love. He needed grace. In that instant I had two choices. I could continue on the destructive path of resentment or I could choose to simply love him. In that moment I chose love. I chose to have faith knowing that spring followed winter. What followed this decision was nothing short of a miracle. When I viewed him through love's eyes I was able to see my husband again for the first time in months. I saw that I could diffuse an argument by simply wrapping my arms around him and telling him that I loved him. I saw that this man was strong and resilient. I saw this man for who and what he was and I loved him. Over the next few months I wholeheartedly went out of my way to make him feel loved. He did not respond at first. And yet I continued. I made the choice to actively love him until he had no choice, but to surrender. And he did.  I woke up one morning and I could feel the warmth of spring. There was nothing left to do, but to bask in the heat of love. And we did. We had found each other again and I was more in love with this man than I had ever been.

We have been through a lot in the 7 years we have been married. I am here to tell you that what has bloomed and matured after those hard winters is something I will forever be grateful for. I am most grateful for our first winter. Our experience was triggered by the loss of a loved one. For each individual it is so beautifully different. It taught me to have faith. I learned to ride the icy peaks right into the fields of wildflowers. When love and faith are the cornerstone for your marriage nothing is permanent. The ebbs and flows are normal. They are to be celebrated. For with each winter spring must and will follow.  Spring is the most fragrant season and each time it comes around it is sweeter than the last.

xo,
M

Meet my daughter. The 5 year old life coach.

I have always said that my daughter is my teacher. Every time I think I have settled into this fact she says something that completely shakes me to my core. Take for example the other evening. Every Friday we go to our favorite restaurant to get sushi. As I took a bite of my spicy tuna roll she, with the wisdom of a 90 year old woman looked at me and said, "Mom don't you feel bad for the fish?" I about choked on the aquatic creature in my mouth. I had no response for this enlightened soul. My 5 year old left me dumbfounded. This is an all to familiar occurrence. Along with her innate ability to cause me to question years of being a self proclaimed carnivore she educates me on the power of being present. She reminds me that there is magic to be found in all things.

This evening as I my oven (had to give my oven a shoutout) was cooking our dinner she asked me to come play with her. As she was cooking for me I observed her every move. Every facial expression. Each sound. As I watched her I couldn't help but feel gratitude. Gratitude for this soul that chose me to guide her through this life. As I gazed at this tiny human I felt tears stream down my face. Tears of complete bliss and so thankful for the moment I was spending with her. What I was even more grateful for was the ability to let go of all the things that I felt that I "should" be doing and just be. She taught me this invaluable lesson. As a mom, wife, and  business owner I often times find myself getting caught up in all the things that require my attention. At times 24 hours just doesn't seem like enough time. And then I walk past my daughters room and I hear her squeal with laughter and I am humbly reminded to stop taking myself so serious and to just play. Every time I do stop to play, whether I'm dancing like a fool in my kitchen or exercising my vocal cords to become the next big thing in opera I am rejuvenated. I am given a sense of renewed energy to continue on with my day. It reminds me that I am human and that I do not need to strive for perfection, but to aim to be the best version of myself: perfectly imperfect. My daughter is the quintessential example of a soul living in the NOW. I give great thanks for this child. She is going to change the world. She has already changed mine in ways that words simply cannot express. I have many titles. Mandy, Mrs. Lanphere, friend, sister, daughter. "Mommy" is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most empowering name of all. Along with that word comes a life time of lessons. My daughter is my teacher and her world is my classroom.

xo,
M

Penne Alla Vodka recipe

I love cooking. I have found solice in the kitchen. I know that if I have had a rough day I can turn on Patsy Cline, poor myself a glass of wine and start chopping. Although before I continue I must tell you that I have not always found the kitchen to be a safe haven. When I first met my mother of the heart I could not make an egg or toast. We also won't talk about the time I almost set her house on fire with bacon grease. I digress. Cooking has a way of bringing people together with a common goal: to be fed. When friends and family gather at my table I desire that they are fed in a way that food cannot fulfill.

I'm so excited to share with you the recipes that I feed my family. Some of them are mine and some of them are from my favorite chefs. The following recipe is from a November/December (2006) Cook's Illustrated issue. I love Cook's Illustrated because they work very hard to fine tune classic recipes. My family loves this pasta dish. Without further adieu, let me to introduce you to this luxurious dish informally named "The Vodka Sauce" in my home.

Penne Alla Vodka*
Serves 4

So that the sauce and pasta finish cooking at the same time, drop the pasta into boiling water just after adding the vodka to the sauce. If possible, use premium vodka; inexpensive brands will taste harsh in the sauce. Pepper vodka imparts a pleasant flavor and can be substituted for plain.

1 (28 oz) can whole tomatoes, drained, liquid reserved
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 small onion, minced (about 1/4 cup)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
1/4-1/2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
Table salt
1/3 cup vodka
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 pound penne pasta
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh basil leaves
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

1. Purée half of tomatoes in food processor until smooth. Dice remaining tomatoes into 1/2 inch pieces, discarding cores. Combine puréed and diced tomatoes in liquid measuring cup (you should have about 1 and 2/3 cups). Add reserved liquid to equal 2 cups.

2. Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat until shimmering. Add onion and tomato paste and cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are light golden around edges, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and pepper flakes; cook stirring constantly, until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

3. Stir in tomatoes and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Remove pan from heat and add vodka. Return pan to medium-high heat and simmer briskly until alcohol flavor is cooked off, 8 to 10 minutes; stir frequently and lower heat to medium if simmering becomes to vigorous. Stir in cream and cook until hot, about 1 minute.

4. Meanwhile, bring 4 quarts water to boil in large Dutch oven over high heat. Add 1 tablespoon salt and pasta. Cook until just shy of al dente, then drain pasta, reserving 1/4 cup cooking water, and transfer pasta back to Dutch oven. Add sauce to pasta and toss over medium heat until pasta absorbs some of sauce, 1 to 2 minutes, adding reserved cooking water if sauce is too thick. Stir in basil and adjust seasoning with salt. Divide among pasta bowls and serve immediately, passing Parmesan separately.


*This recipe I just shared was taken directly from the Nov/Dec Cook's Illustrated issue. It is not my
recipe. It's important to me that credit is given where credit is due. :)

I personally use brown rice pasta. I notice that it doesn't make any difference when preparing. I also have used both inexpensive and higher quality vodka. I was shocked when I actually could tell a difference in the final outcome. If you can, purchase a higher quality vodka. Of course it is totally a personal preference. :) I use Grey Goose. I also almost always double the recipe. My 5 year old loves this for lunch the next day. And of course it's always 10 times better because the ingredients marry up brilliantly. I hope you have a go at this recipe and if you do I am fairly confident your children will ask for seconds and your husband just may offer to do the dishes. :) I do ask one thing of you. While consuming this extremely decadent meal I ask that you each go around the table to say something you are grateful for. A family tradition started by my father of the heart BB.

I give great thanks to Cook's Illustrated for inspiring me to wander outside my comfort zone and try cooking new food. I also give great thanks to my Marmy for not giving up on teaching me how to cook even when I almost torched her kitchen. Fun fact about Mandy: She does not and will EVER cook bacon in the oven (or broiler) again. Like ever.

xo,
M

My daughter wants to be just like me?!

A while back, my then 3 year old, ran up to me, cusp her little hands around my face and said, "I want to be just like you! Only YOU!" I smiled and told her I loved her and on the inside I was resisting an incredible urge to scream. Why? I asked myself that same question. Why would the thought of my daughter wanting to emulate me scare the living shit out of me? The answer is simple and yet so very complex. I know I am a good mother. I feed her, bathe her, read her stories, and make sure she looks both ways when we cross the street. Then why the fear?

Over the last couple of years I have trudged through so many family patterns and sifted through so many limiting beliefs. Those lovely treasures deserve their own blog entry. :) One of the things I learned through this cleansing period was that, as souls having a human experience, we function out of two emotions. Love and fear. When we are bubbling over with joy we are functioning out of love. And when we are snapping at that crazy driver on the road we are coming from a space of fear. At any given moment we have the choice to transmute that fear to love. I realized that my insecurities as a mother came from my fear of inadequacy and unworthiness. These voices of conditioning had me believing that I was an awful and cranky mama and that I was unworthy of a life free from this fear. I didn't believe that I was a woman worthy of imitation.  I had chosen to believe this bullshit for far to long. And that's precisely what it was: a choice. I chose to believe it! I then had a thought. If I was able to choose to believe the negative why couldn't I just choose to believe the truth of my nature?

Over the next few months I aggressively and wholeheartedly woke up each day choosing to step into my beautiful and graceful worthiness. I began with affirmations. Some days were more of a challenge than others. On those days, you know, the days where I wanted to run off with gypsies? Those are the days I repeated my affirmations through clenched teeth. Those are the mornings that I counted my steps as my put one foot in front of the other. Those are the nights that ended with a shot of Scotch and a vow to start over tomorrow. These are the days I look back on and come to the sobering realization that on those days my soul was doing its work. I give great thanks for these days. It was those days that brought me home to my truth. That I AM worthy. I AM a wonderful, cranky, loving, crazy, silly, over the top mother. I am a perfect example for my daughter. Because I'm perfect? Hell to the no! Because I am not. She sees my gypsy days and sees that mommy can feel rotten, but that I use tools to bring myself back to center. She sees my mistakes and knows that I am not perfect. She sees that I am a soul having a human experience. She sees that life isn't always peachy keen, but to cherish these days. They are the days that make the sun so much brighter and that of course the sun always comes back out. By watching me she is learning to relish in her own glorious worthiness. My daughter is my teacher and I will forever be grateful.

xo,
M

I have a blog....I think...

I have been contemplating starting a blog for sometime now. I'm not the most blog savvy gal around so you will have to bare with me. Writing has always been an outlet for me. It has been an arena for me to work through so many different emotions. I consider myself to be a shameless individual and thought what better way for me to connect with other women than through words. So I hope that you will follow me in this journey we call motherhood. Along with my favorite recipes I will share my fears, my hopes, my dreams and my heart. Someone once said, "When you show up authentic, you create the space for others to do the same. Walk in your truth." That is my hope. I hope to encourage just one person to walk in their truth. Whatever that may be.

xo,
M