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mother daughter relationship

Guest Posts, eating disorder, pandemic

Mother Daughter Stew

July 25, 2021

by Nancy Crisafulli 


From Mother’s Expansive Garden 

1 cup low-cal self-esteem

For correct blend mix equal parts shame, blame and overripe guilt.

2 cups shredded body image

Tear fresh images into bite-sized pieces, rinse under cold water and drain completely.

8 oz. night-blooming tobacco

Steep tobacco in 7-14 oz of any red wine (see directions below).

1 lb. depressed family history

This ingredient may also be found in Father’s garden and is often mistaken for a bothersome, invasive weed.

From Daughter’s Secret Pantry

1 cup high-concentrate anxiety – Use full strength – do not dilute.

2 cups well-seasoned perfectionism – Straight A+ seasoning is preferred, but type A will also work.

4 oz. flowering fear of failure (FFF)

Note: FFF is a bitter herb that will significantly impact the flavor of your stew -remember, a little goes a very long way.

2 lbs. genetic predisposition – This underrated ingredient can be found at many organic stores including Roots and MoMs Organic Market).

Optional Non-Organic Ingredients

7 Tbsp. expectation to excel in all endeavors (EEE)

EEE grows like a wildflower in suburbia so check your backyard before purchasing.

Multiple shots of reprocessed Insta-Selfies – Adjust lighting, filters, angles and number of shots for maximum impact.


Step 1: 

In medium-sized bowl, carefully combine mother’s low-cal self-esteem and shredded body image with daughter’s undiluted anxiety. Mix thoroughly.

*Mother: To be sure ingredients are thoroughly blended, pinch and knead the fatty area behind your knee (or any other unattractive body part) repeatedly while chatting heart-to-heart with your adolescent daughter. Adding this personal touch is guaranteed to work better than the most efficient KitchenAid.

Step 2: 

Macerate night-blooming tobacco in red wine and let soak in a tub until all liquid is absorbed.

*Daughter: While Mother macerates, use a paring knife or other sharp object to make shallow cuts in your flowering fear of failure. Cover carefully with a dry cloth and store in a cool, dark place.

Step 3

In a separate bowl, sift together mother’s depressed family history with daughter’s genetic predisposition. Do this slowly, alternating just a bit of depressed history with a little predisposition until you have the perfect mix of these secret family ingredients.

Step 4: 

Place all prepared items from mother’s garden and daughter’s pantry into the domestic cooking device of your choice (see side bar for choices). Sprinkle freely with non-organic optional ingredients to taste and cook as directed.

Step 5: 

Serve piping hot with a side of solitude and regret.

Sans appétit!


For a less robust stew, slowly introduce one or more tempering agents (Wellbutrin, Ativan, Lexipro) before the stew is fully cooked. See individual packaging for suggested amounts.


This recipe serves 1-2 but, properly stored, its prolonged shelf life can often under-nourish an entire family for generations! Studies have shown that a sustained diet of this popular stew is almost guaranteed to yield the following:


  • Drastic reduction in calories and fat
  • Grinding, obsessive exercise
  • A feast of secrecy and self-loathing
  • Suicidal thoughts and/or actions


  • Growing dread of family meals
  • Searing, wild remorse
  • Frantic weeding of personal garden
  • Ravenous craving for a shared bowl of daughter’s favorite childhood ice cream

Chef’s Note:

Organic vs Non-Organic? Conventional wisdom suggests that our genes and the environment around us play important parts in the development of eating disorders and other chronic diseases. For people recovering from anorexia, bulimia or other EDs during this pandemic, the combined ingredients of Corona-related stress, grief, lack of structure, and social isolation may be the perfect recipe for relapse.

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out:

National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA)

Academy for Eating Disorders

 National Alliance on Mental Health Illness (NAMI)


Nancy Crisafulli received her BA in English Literature from the University of Maryland and spent the next forty years in the field of instructional design in and around Washington, DC. She did most of that writing in a corporate office. Her other writing has been languishing in her spare bedroom and recently asked to move out. A few of those pieces have been published in Under the Gum Tree and The Sun. When she isn’t writing, Nancy is probably out walking, doing yoga, playing with the grands, or on the co-ed softball field with her husband and best friend, Frank.


Although each of Jenny Offill’s books is great, this is the one we come back to, both to reread and to gift. Funny and thoughtful and true, this little gem moves through the feelings of a betrayed woman in a series of observations. The writing is beautiful, and the structure is intelligent and moving, and well worth a read.

Order the book from Amazon or


Anti-racist resources, because silence is not an option


Guest Posts

Like Mother, Like Daughter. Guest Post by Lauren Eckstrom

May 18, 2012

My friend Lauren Eckstrom sent me this blog last night and I knew I had to publish it.

I adore Lauren. I used to wait on her back when I worked at The Newsroom and was always in admiration at her grace, her beauty. Then, I started seeing her across town at yoga in Santa Monica! Our paths just kept crossing. She is dear to me and the relationship she has with her mom moves me, as one would imagine knowing how close I am to my mom. Lauren is manifesting the life she always wanted, and as she realizes now, the life her mother had hoped for her. I am honored to call her a friend.

Like Mother, Like Daughter by Lauren Eckstrom

Like many young girls, I experienced a phase when the fear of “becoming my mother” gripped me with terror.

At an adolescent age we don’t realize that becoming a mirror image of our mothers might be the greatest honor we could receive.

Teenage girls sometimes feel an icy resistance to their maternal figures since those women are usually responsible for setting our boundaries, holding us responsible, and instilling morals we don’t yet understand. For many of us, our mothers were authority figures who were definitely not trying to be our friends. As we age, those boundaries begin to melt away and if we are lucky we learn about our mothers as friends and also as the incredible women they’ve been outside of our parent / child relationship.

When my grandmother told me that my mom graduated from college with the highest honors possible, I was astounded – not because I was unaware of how intelligent she is (after all, she’s one of the most impressive business owners I’ve ever met) but because she never divulged this incredible point of pride to me. I was always bragging about my 4.0+ GPA so how could she not share this with me?

My grandmother revealed my mom’s humility and grace that until now, I had never glimpsed. Over the following years I went on to learn that she traveled to Washington D.C. as a very young woman to volunteer for the National Organization of Women. After growing up in a Christian household with strict rules and ladylike expectations, her gusto and strength in the face of such opposition impressed me (and I wondered where my stubborn resistance to authority came from!). While in D.C. she secretly gained access to Jerry Falwell’s convention in order to help the National Organization of Women write important pamphlets to further the cause of a woman’s right to choose. My mother has traveled the world and seen cities, historical monuments, and cultures I pray I have the opportunity to see in this lifetime.

But most of all, in the privacy of her own time, my mother was a yogi all these years and I had no idea.

Waking up most mornings before sunrise, she would sneak into the guesthouse, pop in a Bryan Kest Power Yoga VHS tape, and practice yoga. As I was close to leaving for college she would poke her head into my room and invite me to workout with her. As a stubborn teenager I of course refused thinking she had lost her mind but it never deterred her from offering.

When I made the choice to step away from a big corporate job with a high paying salary, full benefits, and the promise of a comfortable income with no end in sight to teach yoga full time in the midst of a recession, I was sure she would tell me that now I was the one who had lost my mind.

Instead, as always, she embraced my choice, exercised her yoga practice through her words and actions, and fully encouraged me to follow my dharma.

Some of us are lucky enough to learn that the biggest blessing in our lives might just be becoming our mothers and while I still have many miles to go, I am eternally grateful for her every quiet action, spoken and unspoken word, and endless patience that have helped shaped me into the teacher I am today, guiding me and my students to Flow into Grace.