Easy Vegetable Lo Mein

When we first moved into our house I had all of these plans. I just knew that if we did all of the things right, exactly as I pictured them, our family would be GOOD. We would have gatherings, we would make memories. We would be happy. We would be good.

Most of these things, of course, were physical changes and additions to the house. A keeping up with the Joneses kind of desire to create the spaces we needed on the outside so that we could work on the inside. One of them was an outdoor covered patio–an extended covered outdoor room with an outside kitchen, a lounge area for couches, and a giant table to share meals. I just knew in my heart of hearts if we had this built, we would spend hours out there. I pictured cookouts with family and friends, games with the kids, quiet time with Jeff after the kids went to bed. I pictured a family retreat.

By some miracle of God, I was able to convince Jeff to have it built. Which, if you know my husband and his extremely frugal tendencies, you understand exactly why this is a miracle. Nevertheless, build it we did. We chose a contractor, designed it, planned it, and set a date to start. I was so convinced this was IT. The start of our happiness, the place where we could be good, where we could make our family work. So much so that I remember standing at our back windows, baby Kenzie on my hip and little boys hanging on to my legs, watching them pour the concrete with a sense of anticipation and new beginnings. Excitement and joy.

Now….we will be happy.

Friends, none of my dreams for this space came true. Sure, there were some cookouts and memorable gatherings, but for the most part, the only person who used the patio was the person who dreamed it into life–me. It never materialized into a family gathering spot. Jeff and I never once used it as a “date night” location (despite that one time I created a recurring event on our calendar inviting him to our “patio night.”) It just never quite took off as I imagined.

Over time the patio, and the yard around it, fell into a state of disrepair. I mean, this is Texas and unless you’re on top of things around here, the wind the heat, the dust, and the general tomfoolery of the weather will wreak havoc on your outdoor spaces. I didn’t want this, of course, but it was also defeating to spend hours every spring cleaning it by myself, wiping everything down, sweeping, power washing, only to be disappointed yet again, as my dreams were dashed and my invitations rejected. So every time I let my dog out, approximately 400 times a day, I would feel a wash of that same disappointment again. The grief. Even the shame. I let the dream die and the space go dormant because it was too sad for me to deal with.

I don’t know what’s different about this year. Maybe it’s that I’m finally, after all of these years, growing up and figuring stuff out. Or maybe I’m just tired of looking outside and feeling sad. Who knows? But whatever it is, this year I decided to tackle the patio and restore it to its previous glory, no matter what it took. (spoiler alert: it took a lot) So armed with a giant broom, a bucket full of suds, and a roll of paper towels, I went to work.

This is all well and good but somehow, around hour two, it became very clear that this was a lot deeper than just some surface cleaning. In fact, it had nearly nothing to do with the actual cleaning.  It had everything to do with grieving.

See, as I swept, I couldn’t shake the image of that sweet, hopeful young mom. I could see her standing there, watching the concrete pour her dreams into place. I watched, again, as she tried so stinking hard to manufacture her dreams, to bring her family along. I saw what this space meant to her. And then I saw what it had become.

Y’all, they were not the same. And it hurt. Deeply.

With each stroke of my broom, the tears fell. I was sweeping dust and debris and years of neglect away. But along with it went my dreams and hopes for this space. I grieved as I dusted and swept and scrubbed. I let go of a picture, an idea of what I wanted. It was making peace with the fact that my dream was never really about the patio. It was about what I wanted my family to be, my marriage to feel like, but never quite got. That day on the patio I laid that dream to rest. And it was incredibly painful.

But 42-year old Meaghan, this dirty and dusty woman grieving something that never was, knows a little bit more now. She’s a bit wiser and she understands a bit more about life and love and relationships. Enough, at least, to realize that this grief, while excruciating, was necessary in order for her to move forward. This dream had to be mourned before it could be put away to make space for a new dream. 42-year old Meaghan is also wise enough to know now that just because her dreams didn’t materialize exactly as she wanted them to, her real life, with all of its bumps and bruises, has also given her something quite amazing in its place–a family that loves hard and fights to stay together and work it out, even in the hard times. A real family filled with real people, with all of their quirks and their idiosyncrasies and weirdness, that love each other.

And that, friends, is good.

The kids are now older and spend more time with their friends than with us. They aren’t interested in hanging out with mom and dad every night on the couch, no matter where it is. But they will eat burgers and they will invite friends over to eat. So we will create a new dream for the grill and the outdoor kitchen. We’ll include their friends that we’ve known for years, who are more family than anything else. This is a new dream–a bigger dream–one the kids buy into. Jeff and I never quite connected on the patio the way I dreamed we would. But we are stronger now despite this lack. I know and understand him so much better, as he does me, and we’ve been able to create a unique way of connecting that works for both of us. Not just me. I didn’t need a patio for any of that. In fact, the patio is not ours anymore. It’s mine.

It’s mine now because it has always been my dream. And mine alone. Here I can build new dreams there that are mine. I can fill the patio with flowers and plants and comfy spots to read and pray and connect with friends. I can string lights for girls’ dinners and quiet nights by the fire pit (which I’m 100% getting, by the way). I can create a space where I can be comfortable and inspired and bloom. These are dreams bring to life because they’re mine. I’m not relying on anyone else to buy into them. They’re all mine. And that’s a good thing.

I am proud of this space right now. I’m proud of the woman who laid one dream to rest and built another one in its place. I am excited for the future of it, hopeful even. I am not relying on anyone else to buy into this dream or require their participation to make it come true. It’s all mine, my responsibility. And I know now, that this is how dreams should be. Created wisely with the outcome in your own hands. Anything else, it’s just setting yourself up for disappointment and grief.

My family might come along and begin to love this space as I do. And that would be wonderful. But friends, because it’s my dream, it doesn’t matter if they don’t. Because it is good just as it is. MINE.

Easy Vegetable Lo Mein

Y’all, I wish I had some witty way to connect this sad tale about dreams dying with this Easy Vegetable Lo Mein. Yet I do not. So if you’re only here for the food, I hope you used that fun little “Skip the chit chat” option that brought you down this way.

Anyway, this is one of those toolbox-type recipes that I make often. It’s so easy to throw together it’s perfect for busy weeknight dinners or even a quick healthy lunch for those work-at-home types. For my family, it’s perfect because it’s easy to customize. For myself, I can roast some tofu (this is my favorite recipe, minus the BBQ sauce, to keep it vegan. For the rest of my people, I can stirfry up some chicken or, if I’m feeling really lazy, just add some shredded rotisserie chicken, so they can get their “meat fix.”

Either way, this is a great little recipe that allows you to clean out your veggie drawer, use what you have, and have a delicious Easy vegetable lo mein on the table in less than 20 minutes.

ENJOY!

Peace, love, and dreams,

Meg

Easy Vegetable Lo Mein

April 9, 2021

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 3 scallions, thinly sliced, whites and greens separated
• 3 carrots, thinly sliced
• 4 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced or minced
• 8 ounces mushrooms, any kind
• 2 cups snow peas
• 8 ounces spaghetti or other long pasta
• 6 tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 teaspoons brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons Mirin (sweet wine)
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• splash of Sriracha
• toasted sesame seeds to top

Directions

• Step 1 Cook pasta according to package directions, reserving 1 mug full of pasta water before draining. Set aside.
• Step 2 In a small bowl combine soy sauce, brown sugar, mirin, sesame oil, and sriracha. Whisk to combine. Set aside.
• Step 3 In a wok or large skillet, heat a swirl of oil (preferably sesame but any will do) on medium-high.
• Step 4 Add the white part of scallion and cook, stirring continually, 1 minute or until softened.
• Step 5 Add carrots. Cook 2 minutes or so.
• Step 6 Add mushrooms and snow peas.
• Step 7 Cook, stirring frequently until all veggies are nearly cooked through, adding garlic for the last minute or so.
• Step 8 Add noodles and sauce, using tongs to toss and combine completely, throwing in a splash or two of the pasta water to help coat noodles.
• Step 9 Serve topped with green parts of scallions and lots of sesame seeds.

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