We rise early on Tuesdays to get the seven year old to choir practice at the school.
"What the heck?" the three year old chimed this morning.
"It's still dark outside!"
What the heck indeed.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
In the kitchen
It has been a day of excellent cooking qi! I can't take full credit. I started by mooching qi from my neighbor and dear friend, Kat, as we made and jarred green tomato chutney and white wine/oregano jam. It was a task of obligation, largely, as our gardens were packed with green tomatoes and herbs yet the first snow of the season slammed us this weekend. It was time for the last harvest. As it often does, obligation delivered greatness, as the flavors were simply smashing.
From there, the kitchen adventures landed me in the middle of a fantastic Broccoli Cheese Soup recipe for dinner. Bonus: the kids actually ate the stuff. Alright, they needed mild bribery, but it wasn't much. They did great.
The day ended with a batch of my awesome chocolate chip cookies. Tough to beat that.
I am pretty excited about today's cooking, actually. We did go out for lunch today, but we have been working hard to eat at home more often in an effort to control spending. It seems we have seen some success too after a few weeks of this. It is only encouraging to find the preparations from our own kitchen to be delicious. It makes it seem less like cutting corners and more like expanding our horizons more economically.
As I was baking cookies tonight, I remembered my mother baking cookies when I was a child. She would add just half of a 12 oz bag of chocolate chips to the batter. It wasn't until I had an oven of my own in which to bake that I realized the recipe called for twice that amount. People had said I was a spoiled child, but clearly my childhood was riddled with deprivation! A cookie with twice as many chocolate chips was pure luxury!
As I thought on this tonight, I considered that Mom reduced the chips in order to make them go further. Stretching the ever critical dollar to one more batch of cookies. I appreciate her frugality. Interesting though that reducing the whole recipe by half was never the way she handled this. We had plenty of cookies. It was always just the chips that were reduced.
Well, whether I am trying to cut corners now or not, I have seen the light. Once you've tasted luxury it's hard to go back, and while I can sacrifice dinner out 2-3 times a week, some 'quality of life' decisions can not be compromised. The chip count stays true to the recipe.
So, we will see what the coming week in home cooked meals brings. At least I can rest assured that dessert will be spot on!
From there, the kitchen adventures landed me in the middle of a fantastic Broccoli Cheese Soup recipe for dinner. Bonus: the kids actually ate the stuff. Alright, they needed mild bribery, but it wasn't much. They did great.
The day ended with a batch of my awesome chocolate chip cookies. Tough to beat that.
I am pretty excited about today's cooking, actually. We did go out for lunch today, but we have been working hard to eat at home more often in an effort to control spending. It seems we have seen some success too after a few weeks of this. It is only encouraging to find the preparations from our own kitchen to be delicious. It makes it seem less like cutting corners and more like expanding our horizons more economically.
As I was baking cookies tonight, I remembered my mother baking cookies when I was a child. She would add just half of a 12 oz bag of chocolate chips to the batter. It wasn't until I had an oven of my own in which to bake that I realized the recipe called for twice that amount. People had said I was a spoiled child, but clearly my childhood was riddled with deprivation! A cookie with twice as many chocolate chips was pure luxury!
As I thought on this tonight, I considered that Mom reduced the chips in order to make them go further. Stretching the ever critical dollar to one more batch of cookies. I appreciate her frugality. Interesting though that reducing the whole recipe by half was never the way she handled this. We had plenty of cookies. It was always just the chips that were reduced.
Well, whether I am trying to cut corners now or not, I have seen the light. Once you've tasted luxury it's hard to go back, and while I can sacrifice dinner out 2-3 times a week, some 'quality of life' decisions can not be compromised. The chip count stays true to the recipe.
So, we will see what the coming week in home cooked meals brings. At least I can rest assured that dessert will be spot on!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Take me out to the ballgame!
It looks like it will be the season of the Detroit Tigers this year, as Abigail begins her YMCA Summer Baseball League. I am excited about it. After day one of practice though, I am a little nervous about whether or not this sport will stick through the short season, much less for coming years. She seemed a little bummed after practice today and didn't seem to have fun, though she couldn't really articulate why.
Maybe I shouldn't be too surprised. She was the only girl at practice today and we have had some gender issues. Before school ended, she told me during a car ride, "Mommy, Michael at school was making fun of me today." I inquired to the nature of the 'fun'. "He made fun of me because I said I was playing baseball this summer. He said girls can't play baseball." My inner Warrior Princess pulled her Chakram and prepared for battle.
"He said you were not able to do it? Abi, would I have signed you up for something you could not do?" My battle cry sounded.
"No," she said.
"Do you think then that you are able to play baseball?"
"Yes!"
"Abi, for the rest of your life, it is possible you will run into this from time to time- a boy telling you that you can not do something because you're a girl. There is just one thing, Abi, that you can not do because of the fact that you are a girl. Do you know what that is?"
"What?" she asked.
"Have a penis."
She seemed to like that answer.
Well, and alright, I realize that, with the powers of modern science, even that is not a complete truth, but come on, there is only so much I am going to get into at this point with a seven year old.
Yes, I know that I am just asking for that comment to go full circle- to hear from a teacher or another parent that she is repeating the 'penis' comment someplace. I did tell her it's not a very respectful thing to say in front of others... but I also clarified that if someone is bringing up being a girl as a disadvantage in the first place, the disrespect has already started, so... well... game on!
I like baseball. I like having a baseball playing daughter.
We will take it one season at a time, and be grateful for every day she isn't talking about cheer leading!
Maybe I shouldn't be too surprised. She was the only girl at practice today and we have had some gender issues. Before school ended, she told me during a car ride, "Mommy, Michael at school was making fun of me today." I inquired to the nature of the 'fun'. "He made fun of me because I said I was playing baseball this summer. He said girls can't play baseball." My inner Warrior Princess pulled her Chakram and prepared for battle.
"He said you were not able to do it? Abi, would I have signed you up for something you could not do?" My battle cry sounded.
"No," she said.
"Do you think then that you are able to play baseball?"
"Yes!"
"Abi, for the rest of your life, it is possible you will run into this from time to time- a boy telling you that you can not do something because you're a girl. There is just one thing, Abi, that you can not do because of the fact that you are a girl. Do you know what that is?"
"What?" she asked.
"Have a penis."
She seemed to like that answer.
Well, and alright, I realize that, with the powers of modern science, even that is not a complete truth, but come on, there is only so much I am going to get into at this point with a seven year old.
Yes, I know that I am just asking for that comment to go full circle- to hear from a teacher or another parent that she is repeating the 'penis' comment someplace. I did tell her it's not a very respectful thing to say in front of others... but I also clarified that if someone is bringing up being a girl as a disadvantage in the first place, the disrespect has already started, so... well... game on!
I like baseball. I like having a baseball playing daughter.
We will take it one season at a time, and be grateful for every day she isn't talking about cheer leading!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Anatomy and Geography
Alright, I'm beginning a post here without really knowing how I am going to say what it is that I have to say. I do know that the nice thing to do, here at the beginning, is to provide full disclosure that matters usually considered 'Too much Information' are discussed below. It doesn't bother me; I've decided to plow ahead with the writing, but now plowing on with the reading is up to you... and I think we both know you've just stepped way too far to even THINK of turning back now. Well, for what it's worth, I do assure you, any discomfort you feel will be well worth it in the end.
Back data.... the TMI part: I just recently came off of my monthly period. Having two small children (read: zero privacy whatsoever), they often inquire about feminine hygiene practices. It's mostly old hat for the girl now that she is 7, and has seen a lot of this. The boy, however, specifically as he himself is potty training, is investigating potty rituals, and is now perceptive when practices are outside of the norm. Tampons- previously a fun, colorful wrapper yanked from a box, surrounding a chewy, fibrous lollipop- are now seen in action, and the questions swirl. I think lessons of anatomy, and safety are important at this age, so I have started telling the boy that, no, I am not putting something in my bottom (and he should not put things in his bottom)... I have specific girl parts that he does not have, and he has boy parts that I do not have. We talk about those parts, and talk about the fact that the girl parts are for having babies, and we talk about the fact that when women are old enough to have babies, but don't have babies, bleeding happens. I have always thought that I drench (pardon the pun) the conversation with more facts and detail than is actually digested, but I give them what I can, and usually at least some information is... (sorry) absorbed.
Forward leap: lunch today. Boy and I went to Whole Foods. It's usually a special treat for Mommy. No different today. We gathered yummy lunchings... a slice of pizza, items from the salad bar, a cup of soup, a roll. We sat side by side on the patio and ate heartily. He is often quite a conversationalist, and not a whispered one at that. So we communicated openly about many things... what we were eating, if we liked it, if we didn't, if we wanted to share, if one of us would finish something, what we were going to shop for next in the store, in what order, and how we weren't going to fuss when it was time to leave the fun parts.
We were there at the height of lunchtime, so the patio was far from empty. As we were close to being finished, the boy started picking up on other conversations around us. A man sitting behind him was on a cellphone discussing some fund raising for a cancer center. Beside him, a couple of working gentlemen at a table discussed their interests and global travels. I suppose one of the men started talking about China, because the boy excitedly proclaimed, "China! He said China! Mommy, you have a China! Girls have a china, and boys have penises..."
I choked a chuckle as I realized I was sitting in the middle of my real life. My real life, surrounded by curious people who were eating their lunches on a patio at Whole Foods, listening to an almost three year old little boy review his latest lesson. At lightning speed, my mind considered options of 1) correcting his phonetic misunderstanding of female anatomy or 2) applauding his attention to details learned at potty moments. I figured the best course of action would probably be to exploit his age appropriate attention span and quickly change the subject!
"Yes, Braeden. That's right... so, which gummy bunnies do you want to get, the green box or the orange box?" He fell for it. Public humiliation minimized.
Alright, so I have some work to do on clarifications.
At least the little guy will understand why we call our planet Mother Earth... what with her having a China.
Back data.... the TMI part: I just recently came off of my monthly period. Having two small children (read: zero privacy whatsoever), they often inquire about feminine hygiene practices. It's mostly old hat for the girl now that she is 7, and has seen a lot of this. The boy, however, specifically as he himself is potty training, is investigating potty rituals, and is now perceptive when practices are outside of the norm. Tampons- previously a fun, colorful wrapper yanked from a box, surrounding a chewy, fibrous lollipop- are now seen in action, and the questions swirl. I think lessons of anatomy, and safety are important at this age, so I have started telling the boy that, no, I am not putting something in my bottom (and he should not put things in his bottom)... I have specific girl parts that he does not have, and he has boy parts that I do not have. We talk about those parts, and talk about the fact that the girl parts are for having babies, and we talk about the fact that when women are old enough to have babies, but don't have babies, bleeding happens. I have always thought that I drench (pardon the pun) the conversation with more facts and detail than is actually digested, but I give them what I can, and usually at least some information is... (sorry) absorbed.
Forward leap: lunch today. Boy and I went to Whole Foods. It's usually a special treat for Mommy. No different today. We gathered yummy lunchings... a slice of pizza, items from the salad bar, a cup of soup, a roll. We sat side by side on the patio and ate heartily. He is often quite a conversationalist, and not a whispered one at that. So we communicated openly about many things... what we were eating, if we liked it, if we didn't, if we wanted to share, if one of us would finish something, what we were going to shop for next in the store, in what order, and how we weren't going to fuss when it was time to leave the fun parts.
We were there at the height of lunchtime, so the patio was far from empty. As we were close to being finished, the boy started picking up on other conversations around us. A man sitting behind him was on a cellphone discussing some fund raising for a cancer center. Beside him, a couple of working gentlemen at a table discussed their interests and global travels. I suppose one of the men started talking about China, because the boy excitedly proclaimed, "China! He said China! Mommy, you have a China! Girls have a china, and boys have penises..."
I choked a chuckle as I realized I was sitting in the middle of my real life. My real life, surrounded by curious people who were eating their lunches on a patio at Whole Foods, listening to an almost three year old little boy review his latest lesson. At lightning speed, my mind considered options of 1) correcting his phonetic misunderstanding of female anatomy or 2) applauding his attention to details learned at potty moments. I figured the best course of action would probably be to exploit his age appropriate attention span and quickly change the subject!
"Yes, Braeden. That's right... so, which gummy bunnies do you want to get, the green box or the orange box?" He fell for it. Public humiliation minimized.
Alright, so I have some work to do on clarifications.
At least the little guy will understand why we call our planet Mother Earth... what with her having a China.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Why Dragons Should Eat Children
We spent a bit of time at the zoo this week. While there, we visited the smelly Hippo house that also houses the Penguins, an Albino Python, and a Komodo Dragon. Or, so I thought.
We walked into the building, and I bee-lined for the Dragon. I can skip the dumb penguins, but I always get excited to show my kids a real life Dragon. We looked high and low in the exhibit for the beastie before seeing the sign on the glass (yes, right in front of our noses) bearing a long, two paragraph tale about the Komodo Dragon. I stood there, and began reading the sign- highlighting the important parts vocally to my two year old (who can't read, by the way).
... Hektor (the Dragon), seemed to be limping. The keepers watched her (yes, Hektor was apparently a girl), then decided she needed to be examined. The vets looked at her and determined she had a spinal neck injury...
It was at this point that I noticed a boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old, standing next to me, staring at me as I read. I looked, inquisitively, at him standing there.
"It's dead," he said to me, dryly.
"It's...?... The dragon died?!?" I said. "Man, you just gave away the ending of the story I was reading. What's up with that?"
Undaunted, he said, "Well, that is the funnest part of the story thing," and dashed away.
Funnest?! The Dragon was slain!
It's terrible news.
And still no excuse for such a pointed spoiler!
Freaky kid.
We walked into the building, and I bee-lined for the Dragon. I can skip the dumb penguins, but I always get excited to show my kids a real life Dragon. We looked high and low in the exhibit for the beastie before seeing the sign on the glass (yes, right in front of our noses) bearing a long, two paragraph tale about the Komodo Dragon. I stood there, and began reading the sign- highlighting the important parts vocally to my two year old (who can't read, by the way).
... Hektor (the Dragon), seemed to be limping. The keepers watched her (yes, Hektor was apparently a girl), then decided she needed to be examined. The vets looked at her and determined she had a spinal neck injury...
It was at this point that I noticed a boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old, standing next to me, staring at me as I read. I looked, inquisitively, at him standing there.
"It's dead," he said to me, dryly.
"It's...?... The dragon died?!?" I said. "Man, you just gave away the ending of the story I was reading. What's up with that?"
Undaunted, he said, "Well, that is the funnest part of the story thing," and dashed away.
Funnest?! The Dragon was slain!
It's terrible news.
And still no excuse for such a pointed spoiler!
Freaky kid.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Hush Little Baby
The school calendar is giving us a break this week in honor of the season, and it's been fun having Abi more in our days. True, we need to strike the right daily balance of activity versus down time to appease all of us (which seems easier with Braeden alone), but it's been an adventurous balancing act. Monday there was too much out and about. Tuesday there was too little. Today was spot on, and I could tell it by the way they got along.
They have reached their disagreeable sibling phase. Until recently, Braeden was the sweet little one who often followed Abi's instructions. Lately he has discovered the joy that is found in frustrating and irritating his big sister. She also has developed a very short fuse in dealing with him, which really just fuels his fires. Though this is a new phase, I do want to say that I am impressed they have done so well for so long, and I feel they still do well by each other quite frequently by any normal sibling standards.
Back to today, for example. We spent the morning terrorizing the Stride Rite outlet so the kids could actually have clean sneakers that fit them. Once through, we had a quick lunch, then set off for home. The kids wanted to go to a playground, and in fact started shouting at me about it at lunch. Well, I certainly wasn't going to tell them we would play straight away after they humiliated me so harshly at such a fancy restaurant as McDonald's, so I made them a deal that we would not go anywhere until after Braeden had taken his nap. In the car, however, I did tell Abi that if he slept on the way home, we might go someplace for when he wakes up to take advantage of the warmth of the day. Braeden knew that he needed to nap before anything fun happened, so he relaxed in the car. Abi asked me to turn off the radio and immediately began singing Hush Little Baby, Don't Say A Word to him. Over and over again for 10 minutes she sang until he fell asleep. She was so proud of herself. "It always works for him!" she whispered to me when he had dozed off.
Well, I thought it was such a sweet thing for her to do. Granted though, it was a bit self-serving. She knew his sleep was the key to her playtime... go on and temper the credit you give her for this kindness, she'll earn it back as I tell you more.
We went to the playground for an hour as Brae woke up. The kids had a great time and really didn't even fuss when it was time to leave. On the drive home, Braeden looked over to Abi and said, "Abi? Can you sing to me the song that put me to sleep?" She was only too happy to oblige, and when Hush Little Baby was over, she sang other songs she had made up for him all the way home.
I couldn't help but smile as she sang. Despite the more frequent tears and tense voices, when the stars are aligned it is nice to see they still have these moments of leaning on each other.
They have reached their disagreeable sibling phase. Until recently, Braeden was the sweet little one who often followed Abi's instructions. Lately he has discovered the joy that is found in frustrating and irritating his big sister. She also has developed a very short fuse in dealing with him, which really just fuels his fires. Though this is a new phase, I do want to say that I am impressed they have done so well for so long, and I feel they still do well by each other quite frequently by any normal sibling standards.
Back to today, for example. We spent the morning terrorizing the Stride Rite outlet so the kids could actually have clean sneakers that fit them. Once through, we had a quick lunch, then set off for home. The kids wanted to go to a playground, and in fact started shouting at me about it at lunch. Well, I certainly wasn't going to tell them we would play straight away after they humiliated me so harshly at such a fancy restaurant as McDonald's, so I made them a deal that we would not go anywhere until after Braeden had taken his nap. In the car, however, I did tell Abi that if he slept on the way home, we might go someplace for when he wakes up to take advantage of the warmth of the day. Braeden knew that he needed to nap before anything fun happened, so he relaxed in the car. Abi asked me to turn off the radio and immediately began singing Hush Little Baby, Don't Say A Word to him. Over and over again for 10 minutes she sang until he fell asleep. She was so proud of herself. "It always works for him!" she whispered to me when he had dozed off.
Well, I thought it was such a sweet thing for her to do. Granted though, it was a bit self-serving. She knew his sleep was the key to her playtime... go on and temper the credit you give her for this kindness, she'll earn it back as I tell you more.
We went to the playground for an hour as Brae woke up. The kids had a great time and really didn't even fuss when it was time to leave. On the drive home, Braeden looked over to Abi and said, "Abi? Can you sing to me the song that put me to sleep?" She was only too happy to oblige, and when Hush Little Baby was over, she sang other songs she had made up for him all the way home.
I couldn't help but smile as she sang. Despite the more frequent tears and tense voices, when the stars are aligned it is nice to see they still have these moments of leaning on each other.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Darn you, TLC.
So, the nature of a guilty pleasure is being positively ashamed about the personal satisfaction said pleasure provides. Therefore, it goes without saying how horrific it is for me to reveal to you that my latest guilty pleasure is watching What Not To Wear on TLC. I can truly hear all of you that really know me laughing hysterically. Rather makes you wonder how I can learn so much and apply so little, eh? I know, I know. But look, I'm not here to defend my lack of grace and style. I want to discuss a far more important issue.
I'm staring down the barrel of 35. A matter of minutes here in the mountain zone, and my birthday will throw me into the back half of my thirties. I've scoffed at friends who have had trouble accepting their thirty-fifth birthdays. "What's the big deal?" I thought. "It's just a number, and it beats the alternative!" Though I recognize these to be true when it's my time bomb that's going off, my aforementioned guilty pleasure has given me a whole new framework around which to walk the tightrope of my insecurities.
If you've sacrificed an hour of your life to laugh at, sympathize with, or relate to one of WNTW's makeover stars, you'll know that when Stacy and Clinton transition us to or from their commercial sponsors, we are often flashed a fashion guideline on a bright street sign. It's as though we should follow these instructions as we would instructions to YIELD or to use CAUTION in a SCHOOL ZONE. At first I thought they were silly... ignorable... until recently... when I realized that one of the signs read, "No miniskirts over 35!"
Well, okay nevermind the fact that the only time I wore a miniskirt BEFORE 35 was at an 80's theme party and I donned a pair of opaque black leggings for modesty's (and Cindy Lauper's honor's) sake. The fact is, I became starkly aware that this one step- aging to this one particular number- is taking something away from me! I bet it's just the first in a long line of things. Next I'll be too old to wear my hair long, know all the lyrics to the latest rap hits, or watch the next Twilight movie. Then I'll be too old to roller skate with my kids, wear spandex, or put on a bathing suit that isn't skirted. Then I'll be too old to wear V-neck sweaters, drive a Jeep Wrangler, or wear a skirt without support hose... and it all starts just because Stacy and Clinton tell me I can't do something I never did anyway.
35. I never thought it was all that old until now.
Crap. I only have 5 minutes left to wear a miniskirt...
I'm staring down the barrel of 35. A matter of minutes here in the mountain zone, and my birthday will throw me into the back half of my thirties. I've scoffed at friends who have had trouble accepting their thirty-fifth birthdays. "What's the big deal?" I thought. "It's just a number, and it beats the alternative!" Though I recognize these to be true when it's my time bomb that's going off, my aforementioned guilty pleasure has given me a whole new framework around which to walk the tightrope of my insecurities.
If you've sacrificed an hour of your life to laugh at, sympathize with, or relate to one of WNTW's makeover stars, you'll know that when Stacy and Clinton transition us to or from their commercial sponsors, we are often flashed a fashion guideline on a bright street sign. It's as though we should follow these instructions as we would instructions to YIELD or to use CAUTION in a SCHOOL ZONE. At first I thought they were silly... ignorable... until recently... when I realized that one of the signs read, "No miniskirts over 35!"
Well, okay nevermind the fact that the only time I wore a miniskirt BEFORE 35 was at an 80's theme party and I donned a pair of opaque black leggings for modesty's (and Cindy Lauper's honor's) sake. The fact is, I became starkly aware that this one step- aging to this one particular number- is taking something away from me! I bet it's just the first in a long line of things. Next I'll be too old to wear my hair long, know all the lyrics to the latest rap hits, or watch the next Twilight movie. Then I'll be too old to roller skate with my kids, wear spandex, or put on a bathing suit that isn't skirted. Then I'll be too old to wear V-neck sweaters, drive a Jeep Wrangler, or wear a skirt without support hose... and it all starts just because Stacy and Clinton tell me I can't do something I never did anyway.
35. I never thought it was all that old until now.
Crap. I only have 5 minutes left to wear a miniskirt...
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