Bread is obsessed with these cookies. He has not had them since before Lent began because he gave up sweets. God bless him for keeping his Lenten promise. I’m headed straight for hell. I have a strong suspicion that he will be requesting a batch of these sometime on Sunday.
This recipe is from the Eagle Mills All Natural All-Purpose Unbleached Flour bag. I actually buy this flour at Costco but I’m sure you could use any flour. The Eagle Mills is a blend of multi-grain and white flour. I love it. It’s much healthier than white flour but easier to use than wheat because it’s not so heavy. You can use it anywhere you would normally use all-purpose flour. I’ve also used it to make bread. At Costco, you can get 20 pounds of it for $6! If you use a lot of flour like we do, this is a steal. And, no they are not paying me to write this post! I am very passionate about this flour! I like to use exclamation points!
Anyway, I couldn’t find the recipe online so I’ve actually been forced to type it up. I am exhausted from the exertion. This is cutting into my television time. Biggest Loser is on. Here it is:
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Ingredients:
1 ½ cups Eagle Mills All-Purpose Flour Unbleached flour with Ultragrain
½ TSP baking soda
¼ TSP kosher salt
2/3 cup unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1 ½ TSP vanilla extract
1 ¼ cups chocolate chips (they want you to use semi-sweet but we like milk chocolate)
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Combine flour, baking soda and salt in medium bowl; set aside. Cream butter, brown sugar and granulated sugar in large bowl with an electric mixer on medium speed 1 to 2 minutes or until light and fluffy.
2. Add egg and vanilla, beating until well blended. Gradually add flour mixture, beating on low speed after each addition. Stir in chocolate chips.
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoons onto baking sheets, 1 ½ inches apart. Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly brown. Cool on baking sheet 5 minutes.
Disclaimer: Domestic Diva is not responsible if you, or a family member, become addicted to these cookies, therefore increasing the circumference of your ass. You have been warned.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
This Post Does Not Vibrate.
As you know, I put on a few pounds over the winter. I also have been in desperate need of new running shoes. Because, along with everything else, I believe my feet got fatter. So when my mom called and said she had a 30 percent coupon for Kohls, I was in.
We decided to make this a Monday afternoon activity. This is after my mom has been awake since 4 AM and I’ve been alone with Bird all day. Bird skipped her nap so we could meet at 4 o’clock.
If you have ever tried to shop with a toddler, you know this was not an ideal situation. If you’ve never shopped with a toddler, try it. I guarantee you’ll have a whole new lease on life afterwards. Borrow one from a friend if you don’t have your own. Heck, borrow mine.
Anyway, in preparation for this big event, I packed all kinds of goodies. We had: water for her, a new Barbie that we have been saving for such an occasion since Christmas, snacks, sun glasses and a book. This is in addition to all the other things I have to bring as a mom: diapers, wipes, the changing pad, an EpiPen, because you never know where nuts might be hiding, and then all my crap, which, since I am no longer fashionable and no longer feel the need to reapply my lip gloss, is decidedly less than BC (Before Child). I dressed her in layers because she likes to remove her clothing as we shop. I allowed her to wear her rain boots since she also feels the need to remove her shoes while shopping and the boots are easy. We were ready. If shopping with a tot was an Olympic sport we would have taken gold. I was also armed with the new tactic we’ve been using: telling her whatever it is we have that she wants is only for adults. It works. You should try it.
Of course when you go to Kohls, and you have a 30 percent coupon, you don’t just look at what you came in for. You have to look at everything. Because that is a significant discount on things that are marked up to make you feel like you are saving a ton.
Shoes were our second to last stop. It’s now 5:45. I have no idea how we’ve been in this store for nearly two hours. I have no idea how we were able to get Bird to behave for that long. It always takes me forever to find shoes. I have to try them all on. Walk around. Try to jump a little bit. Today I tried actual jumping jacks. Yes, that was me. I saw you looking at my boobs…
I measured my foot with one of those handy dandy foot measurers (technical term). I pushed it aside while I tried on the 14 pairs of shoes I selected. I jumped. I bounced. I jogged. Intermittently, Bird kept asking for the handy dandy foot measurer. My mom was helpful, distracting her by telling her it was yucky and had germs. Bird decided to try a new tactic: repeating her request over and over. “I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that.” Until, exasperated, I was no longer able to block it out and I shouted, for all Kohls’ patrons to hear, “No, Bird you can’t have that it’s an adult toy!”
We decided to make this a Monday afternoon activity. This is after my mom has been awake since 4 AM and I’ve been alone with Bird all day. Bird skipped her nap so we could meet at 4 o’clock.
If you have ever tried to shop with a toddler, you know this was not an ideal situation. If you’ve never shopped with a toddler, try it. I guarantee you’ll have a whole new lease on life afterwards. Borrow one from a friend if you don’t have your own. Heck, borrow mine.
Anyway, in preparation for this big event, I packed all kinds of goodies. We had: water for her, a new Barbie that we have been saving for such an occasion since Christmas, snacks, sun glasses and a book. This is in addition to all the other things I have to bring as a mom: diapers, wipes, the changing pad, an EpiPen, because you never know where nuts might be hiding, and then all my crap, which, since I am no longer fashionable and no longer feel the need to reapply my lip gloss, is decidedly less than BC (Before Child). I dressed her in layers because she likes to remove her clothing as we shop. I allowed her to wear her rain boots since she also feels the need to remove her shoes while shopping and the boots are easy. We were ready. If shopping with a tot was an Olympic sport we would have taken gold. I was also armed with the new tactic we’ve been using: telling her whatever it is we have that she wants is only for adults. It works. You should try it.
Of course when you go to Kohls, and you have a 30 percent coupon, you don’t just look at what you came in for. You have to look at everything. Because that is a significant discount on things that are marked up to make you feel like you are saving a ton.
Shoes were our second to last stop. It’s now 5:45. I have no idea how we’ve been in this store for nearly two hours. I have no idea how we were able to get Bird to behave for that long. It always takes me forever to find shoes. I have to try them all on. Walk around. Try to jump a little bit. Today I tried actual jumping jacks. Yes, that was me. I saw you looking at my boobs…
I measured my foot with one of those handy dandy foot measurers (technical term). I pushed it aside while I tried on the 14 pairs of shoes I selected. I jumped. I bounced. I jogged. Intermittently, Bird kept asking for the handy dandy foot measurer. My mom was helpful, distracting her by telling her it was yucky and had germs. Bird decided to try a new tactic: repeating her request over and over. “I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that. I want that.” Until, exasperated, I was no longer able to block it out and I shouted, for all Kohls’ patrons to hear, “No, Bird you can’t have that it’s an adult toy!”
Friday, March 26, 2010
I Think I Love You. What Am I So Afraid Of?
In honor of today being Friday, a day that many people love, I shall write about one of my loves. I am going to try and do justice to a love that goes so deep it may be beyond words. Costco, I love you.
For some time, I was in denial over my affections for this glorious retail establishment. Then, friends and relatives started pointing it out here and there and, soon, it came to light that I may have a bit of a problem. One might even go as far as to say an obsession.
My mom taught me to love a good deal. She used to warn me not to buy things if they weren’t on sale. She taught me to use coupons. To this day, I do not like to buy something if it’s not on sale. I will wait unless I really need it. I don’t care if it’s only $10; if it’s not on sale I’ll wait.
The thing about Costco is: it’s always a sale! A bargain! There are even store coupons! This makes an even bigger sale!
I know how much everything costs at Costco in comparison to what it costs at say, Target. I do have trouble with paper towel and toilet paper. I let that one slide; I guess I’m too exhausted after knowing that pork tenderloin is $2.99 per pound at Costco and almost never goes on sale for less than that at Kroger. Plus, they trick you with the TP by giving the price per square foot rather than roll so it then becomes a freaking mathematical story problem and I never loved those.
Why do you need 20 pounds of flour you ask? Why would one buy an entire case of diced tomatoes when they only need one or two cans? Because. Why not? I actually have a stock of things in my basement (our little home does not have a pantry-my next house must). Some of my dear friends don’t even know about this; I am adding fuel to their fires.
I need to be clear: I am not a hoarder. I buy what we need and what we will use. And, we take our trash out every week. Have you ever seen Hoarders? Watch it. I guarantee you’ll walk away feeling like you have the cleanest house ever. Anyway, there is a limit to how much I will stock up on. It’s just very difficult for me to turn down a good deal. We have certain things that we’re always buying at Costco because it is significantly less expensive than other retail establishments. They put out coupons for an even bigger sale. It's like the greatest day of the month when those coupons arrive. My mom friends and I are furiously texting to see if the other got her coups yet.
Bread is used to my obsession; he says he loves it. I think, he could care less but he does a really good job pretending like he does. On days when I think I’ve really gotten a good deal, I will actually keep things out to show him. Or, I’ll chase him around with the receipt and read off everything I found. I then make him guess how much I spent. He plays along. I can’t help it. I want to share my joy with others.
It’s my job to save us money. Bread works really hard, six days a week, so I can be home with Bird. I need to make lots of healthy meals and have lots of options for what he can take to work for lunch and sometimes dinner. When produce is not in season here, it’s hard to beat Costco’s prices on fresh, fruits and vegetables. They also have lots of organic, which I try to buy, when it’s affordable. The way I see it, the more money we save on necessities like groceries, the more money we have for fun and exciting things like lipstick and hair products. I seriously need to be a spokesperson for this place. I’m not kidding.
It’s getting to the point where I buy almost everything we eat there. I do clip coupons but we don’t eat a lot of the processed stuff that they put coupons out for. I hear a lot of mom’s talking about this or that being on sale here or there. I think some moms go to several grocery stores a week. How do they have time for this? Costco! Costco! It’s not just for families either. You can freeze it! Besides, where else can you go and purchase a treadmill, new glasses, a novel, a track suit, five pounds of chicken nuggets and Rogaine?
I think that’s enough for now. I have to stop somewhere. I also have eight cases of tomatoes to put away and enough rice to feed the entire neighborhood. But it was on sale…
For some time, I was in denial over my affections for this glorious retail establishment. Then, friends and relatives started pointing it out here and there and, soon, it came to light that I may have a bit of a problem. One might even go as far as to say an obsession.
My mom taught me to love a good deal. She used to warn me not to buy things if they weren’t on sale. She taught me to use coupons. To this day, I do not like to buy something if it’s not on sale. I will wait unless I really need it. I don’t care if it’s only $10; if it’s not on sale I’ll wait.
The thing about Costco is: it’s always a sale! A bargain! There are even store coupons! This makes an even bigger sale!
I know how much everything costs at Costco in comparison to what it costs at say, Target. I do have trouble with paper towel and toilet paper. I let that one slide; I guess I’m too exhausted after knowing that pork tenderloin is $2.99 per pound at Costco and almost never goes on sale for less than that at Kroger. Plus, they trick you with the TP by giving the price per square foot rather than roll so it then becomes a freaking mathematical story problem and I never loved those.
Why do you need 20 pounds of flour you ask? Why would one buy an entire case of diced tomatoes when they only need one or two cans? Because. Why not? I actually have a stock of things in my basement (our little home does not have a pantry-my next house must). Some of my dear friends don’t even know about this; I am adding fuel to their fires.
I need to be clear: I am not a hoarder. I buy what we need and what we will use. And, we take our trash out every week. Have you ever seen Hoarders? Watch it. I guarantee you’ll walk away feeling like you have the cleanest house ever. Anyway, there is a limit to how much I will stock up on. It’s just very difficult for me to turn down a good deal. We have certain things that we’re always buying at Costco because it is significantly less expensive than other retail establishments. They put out coupons for an even bigger sale. It's like the greatest day of the month when those coupons arrive. My mom friends and I are furiously texting to see if the other got her coups yet.
Bread is used to my obsession; he says he loves it. I think, he could care less but he does a really good job pretending like he does. On days when I think I’ve really gotten a good deal, I will actually keep things out to show him. Or, I’ll chase him around with the receipt and read off everything I found. I then make him guess how much I spent. He plays along. I can’t help it. I want to share my joy with others.
It’s my job to save us money. Bread works really hard, six days a week, so I can be home with Bird. I need to make lots of healthy meals and have lots of options for what he can take to work for lunch and sometimes dinner. When produce is not in season here, it’s hard to beat Costco’s prices on fresh, fruits and vegetables. They also have lots of organic, which I try to buy, when it’s affordable. The way I see it, the more money we save on necessities like groceries, the more money we have for fun and exciting things like lipstick and hair products. I seriously need to be a spokesperson for this place. I’m not kidding.
It’s getting to the point where I buy almost everything we eat there. I do clip coupons but we don’t eat a lot of the processed stuff that they put coupons out for. I hear a lot of mom’s talking about this or that being on sale here or there. I think some moms go to several grocery stores a week. How do they have time for this? Costco! Costco! It’s not just for families either. You can freeze it! Besides, where else can you go and purchase a treadmill, new glasses, a novel, a track suit, five pounds of chicken nuggets and Rogaine?
I think that’s enough for now. I have to stop somewhere. I also have eight cases of tomatoes to put away and enough rice to feed the entire neighborhood. But it was on sale…
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Rose Nylund: Thank You for Being a Friend
Malbie and I have been best friends since about sixth grade. Our history is vast. We have been friends since it was cool to laugh at all things “adult.” In sixth grade, we were forced giggle at boys making all kinds of dirty jokes because that was what boys at that age did. We never wanted to appear uncool. Thank God we are passed trying to impress awkward, geeky boys. We were teenagers, what can I say? Now we have men to deal with…
I am constantly remembering things that happened over the years and having a good laugh. Because that’s what she does; she makes me laugh. We lived together for four years while we were in college (yes, we even went to the same college). She is definitely the sister I never had. I don’t need one because I have her (insert sappy music here).
She is probably the one person I am most myself with, besides my husband. She can read my mind. I can wear my pajamas, eat an entire carton of ice cream and fall asleep on the couch and she’s not judging. I find that when we are around other people I have to tone it down. I can’t give her the look. We cannot make too many inside jokes. People that don’t have a Malbie do not understand. It just is. I don’t have to try for it; it just is. It’s totally second nature. I am her Sophia Petrillo. She is my Rose Nylund. If you don’t know who they are you ought to be shot.
Sadly, thanks to the loss of her job and the shitty Michigan economy, my beloved Malbie had to move across the country to California (insert sad music here). We miss her and her new hubby, Matt, very much but alas we know that someday they will return.
Prior to their move, the happy couple hung out with us rather frequently. Mostly at our house since we have the child and all. Usually, we would have a meal, put the child to bed and then play cards or games and enjoy adult beverages. Good times were had by all (unless they were lying to us all these years).
On one such occasion, we were playing Catch Phrase. If you’ve never indulged, you should. I highly recommend it. It’s basically Hot Potato with words. You have a team or partner and you pass around the little electronic game trying to get your partner to say the words displayed on the screen before the timer buzzes. You can pass if you don’t want to do a particular clue until you get something you think you can get your partner to guess.
This time we were playing just the four of us; girls versus boys. I don’t think any of us were really that into it. It was my turn to get Malbie to guess. I passed on several until I came to one I liked. The category was food. I said, “Oh, Oh if I lick your butthole.” To which my friend, with absolutely no hesitation replied, “Tossed salad.” (Insert stunned silence from the boys and hysterical laughter from the girls). That, my friends, is a friendship with no definition. Some things you just never grow out of.
I am constantly remembering things that happened over the years and having a good laugh. Because that’s what she does; she makes me laugh. We lived together for four years while we were in college (yes, we even went to the same college). She is definitely the sister I never had. I don’t need one because I have her (insert sappy music here).
She is probably the one person I am most myself with, besides my husband. She can read my mind. I can wear my pajamas, eat an entire carton of ice cream and fall asleep on the couch and she’s not judging. I find that when we are around other people I have to tone it down. I can’t give her the look. We cannot make too many inside jokes. People that don’t have a Malbie do not understand. It just is. I don’t have to try for it; it just is. It’s totally second nature. I am her Sophia Petrillo. She is my Rose Nylund. If you don’t know who they are you ought to be shot.
Sadly, thanks to the loss of her job and the shitty Michigan economy, my beloved Malbie had to move across the country to California (insert sad music here). We miss her and her new hubby, Matt, very much but alas we know that someday they will return.
Prior to their move, the happy couple hung out with us rather frequently. Mostly at our house since we have the child and all. Usually, we would have a meal, put the child to bed and then play cards or games and enjoy adult beverages. Good times were had by all (unless they were lying to us all these years).
On one such occasion, we were playing Catch Phrase. If you’ve never indulged, you should. I highly recommend it. It’s basically Hot Potato with words. You have a team or partner and you pass around the little electronic game trying to get your partner to say the words displayed on the screen before the timer buzzes. You can pass if you don’t want to do a particular clue until you get something you think you can get your partner to guess.
This time we were playing just the four of us; girls versus boys. I don’t think any of us were really that into it. It was my turn to get Malbie to guess. I passed on several until I came to one I liked. The category was food. I said, “Oh, Oh if I lick your butthole.” To which my friend, with absolutely no hesitation replied, “Tossed salad.” (Insert stunned silence from the boys and hysterical laughter from the girls). That, my friends, is a friendship with no definition. Some things you just never grow out of.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Rock Bottom
You know you've hit rock bottom when you look up to see that it is four o'clock and are delighted because Oprah is on. Bring on the Bon Bons and I think I'll have a tub of Ben and Jerry's to go with them. Oh wait, I mean carrot sticks and celery.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Reign Me In
There are days, maybe even years, of my life where I feel like I am possessed by food. I like to eat. I also like to lounge. I've been avoiding the scale because I feel like I've really packed on the pounds over the winter. Today, I had to have a physical for my health insurance. I had to go TWELVE hours without eating. They weighed me. I almost fell off the scale. Not because I was weak and frail do to lack of nourishment but because it was bad. I'm not going to say how much I weigh, but trust me.
I'm not a size two. I will never be a size two. I don't even think I want to be a size two. I mean, those skinny bitches can't eat anything (no offense if you are, indeed, a skinny bitch). And, as I mentioned, I like to eat. I'm healthy. I swear. I do not eat fast food and chips all day. I eat fruit, vegetables, whole grains and lean meat. Then, I wash it all down with some junk food. I can't stop. I am an addict. I like those sugary carbs.
I also exercise. I ran the other day, for the first time this year. I've been doing step and lifting weights but I guess not as much as I should be. I guess it's time to reign it in. I'm making myself talk about this so that I can commit to watching what I'm shoveling in. I have to do this. I want my ten readers to hold me accountable. So, I'm sorry to bore you with this nonsense but, I think I'm going to have to start having a weekly post about the status of my eating, er, overeating...
My doctor said I should eat 1200-1500 calories a day. WTF? Is she on crack? That's like a piece of toast and some fruit. What will I eat the rest of the day? I'm doomed to starve to death. I'll probably be a size two by next week. I'll let you know how that works out.
I'm not a size two. I will never be a size two. I don't even think I want to be a size two. I mean, those skinny bitches can't eat anything (no offense if you are, indeed, a skinny bitch). And, as I mentioned, I like to eat. I'm healthy. I swear. I do not eat fast food and chips all day. I eat fruit, vegetables, whole grains and lean meat. Then, I wash it all down with some junk food. I can't stop. I am an addict. I like those sugary carbs.
I also exercise. I ran the other day, for the first time this year. I've been doing step and lifting weights but I guess not as much as I should be. I guess it's time to reign it in. I'm making myself talk about this so that I can commit to watching what I'm shoveling in. I have to do this. I want my ten readers to hold me accountable. So, I'm sorry to bore you with this nonsense but, I think I'm going to have to start having a weekly post about the status of my eating, er, overeating...
My doctor said I should eat 1200-1500 calories a day. WTF? Is she on crack? That's like a piece of toast and some fruit. What will I eat the rest of the day? I'm doomed to starve to death. I'll probably be a size two by next week. I'll let you know how that works out.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Nutters are Everywhere
Dear Thieves,
I saw you and I cannot believe what I saw. Picking through the closed pints of strawberries for all the good ones and moving them around. It's a pint! They are packaged by weight! You get what you get when you pick one! Select one that looks good! You don't get to do that. If they wanted you to do that, they would have left them unpacked. I was watching. My mouth was hanging open. You were creepy before I saw what you were doing. You were taking all the best berries and leaving a container of gross, nasty ones for some poor unsuspecting shopper to hurriedly throw into their cart and take home in the hopes of enjoying them later in the day or perhaps to use for a nice shortcake. Shame on you! You're going to get what you deserve; Karma is a bitch. You'll get it good for this one; you're probably going to step in a pile of dog crap on your way to a job interview. Rat Bastards.
Signed,
Disgruntled, but too scared to say anything
P.S. Thanks, at least, for making me feel like a "normal" human being. That is very hard to do.
I saw you and I cannot believe what I saw. Picking through the closed pints of strawberries for all the good ones and moving them around. It's a pint! They are packaged by weight! You get what you get when you pick one! Select one that looks good! You don't get to do that. If they wanted you to do that, they would have left them unpacked. I was watching. My mouth was hanging open. You were creepy before I saw what you were doing. You were taking all the best berries and leaving a container of gross, nasty ones for some poor unsuspecting shopper to hurriedly throw into their cart and take home in the hopes of enjoying them later in the day or perhaps to use for a nice shortcake. Shame on you! You're going to get what you deserve; Karma is a bitch. You'll get it good for this one; you're probably going to step in a pile of dog crap on your way to a job interview. Rat Bastards.
Signed,
Disgruntled, but too scared to say anything
P.S. Thanks, at least, for making me feel like a "normal" human being. That is very hard to do.
Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Dear Couch,
We were together most of the weekend. You know how this works; I am with you as much as I possibly can be. Sometimes, I have other things to do. You are so good to me. You hold me up so I can rest my weary head. You have allowed me to make an indentation for my ass allowing for optimal viewing of the television. Alas, we can be the best of friends during the colder months of the year but, once the weather gets warmer, I have to back off a little bit.
Please stop calling me. You are making this so much harder than it needs to be. You know I will come back to you; I always do. You are the only furniture in the room with the TV, so it's inevitable. But, please, let me do what needs to be done.
Signed,
Fair-Weather Lounger
P.S. It's definitely not you; it's me.
We were together most of the weekend. You know how this works; I am with you as much as I possibly can be. Sometimes, I have other things to do. You are so good to me. You hold me up so I can rest my weary head. You have allowed me to make an indentation for my ass allowing for optimal viewing of the television. Alas, we can be the best of friends during the colder months of the year but, once the weather gets warmer, I have to back off a little bit.
Please stop calling me. You are making this so much harder than it needs to be. You know I will come back to you; I always do. You are the only furniture in the room with the TV, so it's inevitable. But, please, let me do what needs to be done.
Signed,
Fair-Weather Lounger
P.S. It's definitely not you; it's me.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
What was for Dinner, Bitches
Tonight I made Creamy Barley with Tomatoes and Greens from my February issue of Real Simple magazine. Bread is a man. He likes meat. I never consider making a meal for him without meat unless it has beans. But, Bread was working late so I figured I'd go for it.
I really liked it but I would consider maybe using chicken stock in place of the water. Maybe I just did not add enough salt but it seemed a little lacking in the flavor department. I suppose I could have added more salt after but I tend to shy away from it because that's not something you can correct once you've added too much.
I also think it needed some protein. I thought it would feel more filling because of the barley. I sort of had that bottomless pit thing where I felt like I had not even eaten after I was done (perhaps that is because I am, actually, a bottomless pit). If you're going to try this, I would recommend adding some meat (roars like a man and pounds chest). I was thinking maybe shrimp, turkey sausage or some grilled chicken.
Anyway, overall I liked this recipe. It says it takes 30 minutes. I love that it actually took 30 minutes. Usually, recipes always take longer than they say they do. I love quick, easy and tasty things. I would give this recipe a seven.
I really liked it but I would consider maybe using chicken stock in place of the water. Maybe I just did not add enough salt but it seemed a little lacking in the flavor department. I suppose I could have added more salt after but I tend to shy away from it because that's not something you can correct once you've added too much.
I also think it needed some protein. I thought it would feel more filling because of the barley. I sort of had that bottomless pit thing where I felt like I had not even eaten after I was done (perhaps that is because I am, actually, a bottomless pit). If you're going to try this, I would recommend adding some meat (roars like a man and pounds chest). I was thinking maybe shrimp, turkey sausage or some grilled chicken.
Anyway, overall I liked this recipe. It says it takes 30 minutes. I love that it actually took 30 minutes. Usually, recipes always take longer than they say they do. I love quick, easy and tasty things. I would give this recipe a seven.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Does She Keep a Clean House?
Growing up, I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandmother. She is, put simply, and rather understated, a real character. She has opinions on most everything and she's definitely not afraid to let anyone know what they are. I think this trait in her has heightened in her old age. Needless to say her opinions are her opinions and if you spend more than about 20 minutes in her presence you're bound to get your share of them.
Coming from a small town, gossip was a way of life. Everyone knew your business or your mom so nothing went untold. From an early age, I can remember Grandma and her friends, sitting around having a couple drinks (yes, booze) and discussing the locals. At the time, this didn't really mean anything to me but one of Grandma's favorite questions was, "Does she keep a clean house?" This very question she would ask me when I was older in regards to my friend's moms.
Obviously, given her age, Grandma grew up when there were men's and women's roles. Men worked. Women cleaned. Having a dirty home was most definitely a reflection on the woman despite the fact that she may or may not also have a job outside of the home.
Somehow this question has ingrained itself into my brain. I often think of it. Not because I feel like I have to keep a clean house but because how could that be the sole measure of a person's being? What about her children? Did she have a career? What about a college education? Maybe she has a hobby or two? I can't recall her ever asking any of these questions. I know this was a different era but how harsh.
There are days when our house is a total and utter pigsty. I have a child, a husband who works about 55 hours a week and two dogs who shed as if they are about to go bald. I am only one person. I do about 95 percent of the cleaning in our house. Not because I'm the woman but because I'm the one who does not get up and go to work.
Grandma, I don't mean to disappoint but there's a lot of dust up in here. I mean, sometimes I let you down. I spend time with my daughter. And when she's asleep, or otherwise occupied, I like to read, watch TV and cook. I don't like to clean. I'm sorry you spent a lot of years worried about "keeping a clean house." I happen to enjoy life. I just often feel like she's breathing down my neck warning me about cleaning the house. She does still do that. She's been known to tell people how dirty their homes are; she once pointed out the dust on my mother's microwave. Who cares about the outside? The inside is where your food goes. As long as that's clean does it really matter? I suppose she would be quite distressed if I let her look underneath my bed...Oh well, I should know better than to take advice from the woman who used to tell my friends and I not to drink or we'd end up pregnant. Hey, Granny, it doesn't work like that. There are a few steps in between. JSYK.
Today, St. Patty's Day, is actually Grandma's birthday. I think we should pay tribute to her. We should all sit back, enjoy a couple green beers and bask in the glow of dust, dirt and grime.
Coming from a small town, gossip was a way of life. Everyone knew your business or your mom so nothing went untold. From an early age, I can remember Grandma and her friends, sitting around having a couple drinks (yes, booze) and discussing the locals. At the time, this didn't really mean anything to me but one of Grandma's favorite questions was, "Does she keep a clean house?" This very question she would ask me when I was older in regards to my friend's moms.
Obviously, given her age, Grandma grew up when there were men's and women's roles. Men worked. Women cleaned. Having a dirty home was most definitely a reflection on the woman despite the fact that she may or may not also have a job outside of the home.
Somehow this question has ingrained itself into my brain. I often think of it. Not because I feel like I have to keep a clean house but because how could that be the sole measure of a person's being? What about her children? Did she have a career? What about a college education? Maybe she has a hobby or two? I can't recall her ever asking any of these questions. I know this was a different era but how harsh.
There are days when our house is a total and utter pigsty. I have a child, a husband who works about 55 hours a week and two dogs who shed as if they are about to go bald. I am only one person. I do about 95 percent of the cleaning in our house. Not because I'm the woman but because I'm the one who does not get up and go to work.
Grandma, I don't mean to disappoint but there's a lot of dust up in here. I mean, sometimes I let you down. I spend time with my daughter. And when she's asleep, or otherwise occupied, I like to read, watch TV and cook. I don't like to clean. I'm sorry you spent a lot of years worried about "keeping a clean house." I happen to enjoy life. I just often feel like she's breathing down my neck warning me about cleaning the house. She does still do that. She's been known to tell people how dirty their homes are; she once pointed out the dust on my mother's microwave. Who cares about the outside? The inside is where your food goes. As long as that's clean does it really matter? I suppose she would be quite distressed if I let her look underneath my bed...Oh well, I should know better than to take advice from the woman who used to tell my friends and I not to drink or we'd end up pregnant. Hey, Granny, it doesn't work like that. There are a few steps in between. JSYK.
Today, St. Patty's Day, is actually Grandma's birthday. I think we should pay tribute to her. We should all sit back, enjoy a couple green beers and bask in the glow of dust, dirt and grime.
Best. Tortilla Chips. Ever.
So, one of these days, I'm going to get around to writing a post about my love for Costco. My obsession with this retail establishment goes way, way back. I haven't been able to find the words just yet. But, until then, I shall share with you one of my new loves.
Bargain shopper that I am, I will buy almost anything if it's on sale. We eat healthy: fruits, veggies and lean meats. But, I do love carbs. I am usually a sucker for sweets but lately I've really been feeling the salty. I have become obsessed with avocados. Which, as you know, are very good and good for you. I have been making guacamole and dipping veggies in it. Until yesterday when I discovered these chips.
These are significantly better for you than regular tortilla chips. They are made with Quinoa! They have fiber! And, they are delicious. If you're a Costco member there is a $2 off coupon. Since I am the Domestic Diva, I thought it only appropriate to share this discovery with you.
Bargain shopper that I am, I will buy almost anything if it's on sale. We eat healthy: fruits, veggies and lean meats. But, I do love carbs. I am usually a sucker for sweets but lately I've really been feeling the salty. I have become obsessed with avocados. Which, as you know, are very good and good for you. I have been making guacamole and dipping veggies in it. Until yesterday when I discovered these chips.
These are significantly better for you than regular tortilla chips. They are made with Quinoa! They have fiber! And, they are delicious. If you're a Costco member there is a $2 off coupon. Since I am the Domestic Diva, I thought it only appropriate to share this discovery with you.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Boy Crazy Bird
There is something going on in our house that I have been hesitant to talk about. Because, everybody knows that as soon as you mention something you have any sort of discomfort about, the shit hits the fan. Well, here goes- our two year-old is boy crazy. I'm not kidding.
She turned two in October. About this time she took a strong liking to all things Disney Princess. I did not push this on her. It just happened. The next thing I know, it was all princess all the time. It's almost as though nothing else exists.
Very slowly, she started to bring up Prince Charming. She was pointing him out in the movies, talking about him in the books and asking a lot of questions about him. I didn't think too much about it until recently.
Bread has mentioned, on more than one occasion, that Bird will never be able to date. I laugh at this. He says he was a boy once and he knows what boys think about girls and therefore there's no way he's ever letting his little girl go out. At least not until she's 30. I scoff. That's ridiculous.
Until last week. We were eating breakfast and out of absolutely nowhere, she turns to me, dead serious and says, "I want to go to the beach with Prince Charming, shut my eyes and take a rest." I choked. For one, it was hilarious, especially the part where she cinched her eyes closed. And for two, where in the hell did she come up with that? I didn't tell her that! I know Bread certainly didn't bring that up.
As if the proclamation of wanting to head to the beach with Charming wasn't enough to confirm my suspicions, the other night Bird met one of my brother's friends, Nick. Simply put, she was infatuated. She kept saying hi and at one point she gave him this really, cool, casual wave. The type of wave 16 year-old girls across the country are practicing in their mirrors. She also called him Rick and Dick. Way to throw him off the scent. WTF? She's playing games with these boys? I cannot condone this behavior.
Then, then, oh yes, there is more. Yesterday, we had a nice, twenty-something lad working on our bathroom. He initially came over the weekend to talk with Bread, then was back yesterday to actually do the work. He showed up while she was still in bed. Once she found out who was in our bathroom, she wouldn't stop. Where is Brandon? What is he doing? Where did he go? At one point, she even referred to him as Eric (Ariel from The Little Mermaid's love interest). Alas, I can deny it no more, my two year-old is boy crazy and she likes much, much older men. She has zero interest in boys her own age.
How did this happen? What should we do? Is this normal? I know that every parent wants their child to be advanced. I think this is taking it a step too far. I'm officially in agreement with Bread. She is not dating. EVER. I suppose if I was going to look on the bright side, which I'm so not, I should be glad that all she wants to do with Prince Charming is "shut her eyes and take a rest."This also confirms my theory that her tantrums are because she's premenstrual. It could be worse, right?
She turned two in October. About this time she took a strong liking to all things Disney Princess. I did not push this on her. It just happened. The next thing I know, it was all princess all the time. It's almost as though nothing else exists.
Very slowly, she started to bring up Prince Charming. She was pointing him out in the movies, talking about him in the books and asking a lot of questions about him. I didn't think too much about it until recently.
Bread has mentioned, on more than one occasion, that Bird will never be able to date. I laugh at this. He says he was a boy once and he knows what boys think about girls and therefore there's no way he's ever letting his little girl go out. At least not until she's 30. I scoff. That's ridiculous.
Until last week. We were eating breakfast and out of absolutely nowhere, she turns to me, dead serious and says, "I want to go to the beach with Prince Charming, shut my eyes and take a rest." I choked. For one, it was hilarious, especially the part where she cinched her eyes closed. And for two, where in the hell did she come up with that? I didn't tell her that! I know Bread certainly didn't bring that up.
As if the proclamation of wanting to head to the beach with Charming wasn't enough to confirm my suspicions, the other night Bird met one of my brother's friends, Nick. Simply put, she was infatuated. She kept saying hi and at one point she gave him this really, cool, casual wave. The type of wave 16 year-old girls across the country are practicing in their mirrors. She also called him Rick and Dick. Way to throw him off the scent. WTF? She's playing games with these boys? I cannot condone this behavior.
Then, then, oh yes, there is more. Yesterday, we had a nice, twenty-something lad working on our bathroom. He initially came over the weekend to talk with Bread, then was back yesterday to actually do the work. He showed up while she was still in bed. Once she found out who was in our bathroom, she wouldn't stop. Where is Brandon? What is he doing? Where did he go? At one point, she even referred to him as Eric (Ariel from The Little Mermaid's love interest). Alas, I can deny it no more, my two year-old is boy crazy and she likes much, much older men. She has zero interest in boys her own age.
How did this happen? What should we do? Is this normal? I know that every parent wants their child to be advanced. I think this is taking it a step too far. I'm officially in agreement with Bread. She is not dating. EVER. I suppose if I was going to look on the bright side, which I'm so not, I should be glad that all she wants to do with Prince Charming is "shut her eyes and take a rest."This also confirms my theory that her tantrums are because she's premenstrual. It could be worse, right?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Manic Monday
In the old days, when I dreamt of a fantastic life as a domestic goddess, I envisioned having ample leisure time. I would care for my husband, our daughter and our two dogs while still having plenty of time to write a novel, have a blog and organize everything in our house. And then reality set in. While that’s certainly not what actually goes on here, at least I put forth a gallant effort (in my eyes, in comparison to nobody, but whatever).
The truth is: I’m not as fit as I’d like to be, I do not clean as much as I should and I don’t spend nearly enough time working on my novel (or any time but that’s irrelevant). Sometimes I find it difficult to get motivated. I think I am not very good at managing my time. Lately, the tantrums have been wiping me of all my energy; it takes a lot of mental strength to handle that without losing your cool.
One of my biggest disillusions about stay-at-home motherhood is that Mondays would no longer be Mondays. I mean, it would just be another day. I would always feel like every day was a weekend and I would no longer have that dreaded lump in my gut that started somewhere in the middle of Sunday afternoon couch time. While the lump has long gone away, Monday is still Monday. I still have responsibilities. I have to grocery shop. I need to make a meal plan. The laundry pile is growing. I still have to walk the dogs, deal with the clutter and empty the dishwasher. Maybe it doesn’t matter to the people next store if I do all these things but it does matter to us. It’s our house. It’s our lives' and things need to go a certain way in order for everybody here to be happy.
Sometimes, especially in what feels like it should be the end of winter even though I know we probably still have at least another month, the day-to-day starts to feel a bit mundane. I’m sick of being stuck indoors. Last week we had a taste of warm weather, just enough to get the bug, and now it somehow feels ickier than when it was 20 degrees outside. There is mud everywhere. Everything is brown. I’m tired. I just want to hide under the covers with a book. I wish I could call in sick.
While I can’t have a sick day, I do have the luxury of deciding what I want to do today. I have the sweetest little girl, who wants me to “play kitchen.” She also just told me, despite my unwashed hair and lack of makeup, that I “look beautiful today.” I wouldn’t trade that for a million sick days.
The truth is: I’m not as fit as I’d like to be, I do not clean as much as I should and I don’t spend nearly enough time working on my novel (or any time but that’s irrelevant). Sometimes I find it difficult to get motivated. I think I am not very good at managing my time. Lately, the tantrums have been wiping me of all my energy; it takes a lot of mental strength to handle that without losing your cool.
One of my biggest disillusions about stay-at-home motherhood is that Mondays would no longer be Mondays. I mean, it would just be another day. I would always feel like every day was a weekend and I would no longer have that dreaded lump in my gut that started somewhere in the middle of Sunday afternoon couch time. While the lump has long gone away, Monday is still Monday. I still have responsibilities. I have to grocery shop. I need to make a meal plan. The laundry pile is growing. I still have to walk the dogs, deal with the clutter and empty the dishwasher. Maybe it doesn’t matter to the people next store if I do all these things but it does matter to us. It’s our house. It’s our lives' and things need to go a certain way in order for everybody here to be happy.
Sometimes, especially in what feels like it should be the end of winter even though I know we probably still have at least another month, the day-to-day starts to feel a bit mundane. I’m sick of being stuck indoors. Last week we had a taste of warm weather, just enough to get the bug, and now it somehow feels ickier than when it was 20 degrees outside. There is mud everywhere. Everything is brown. I’m tired. I just want to hide under the covers with a book. I wish I could call in sick.
While I can’t have a sick day, I do have the luxury of deciding what I want to do today. I have the sweetest little girl, who wants me to “play kitchen.” She also just told me, despite my unwashed hair and lack of makeup, that I “look beautiful today.” I wouldn’t trade that for a million sick days.
My Precious
One of the greatest parts of my day, aside from getting to spend most of it hanging out with my little Bird, is getting the mail. Since we live in the mid-west, where winter seems to last for about eight months, we spend a lot of time at home. I usually know when the mail arrives because one of my dogs will bark. It’s like I can barely contain myself to get out there and get those bills, because 70 percent of what we receive are bills. But, I also get magazines. I love them! It’s like Christmas at the beginning of the month when they start to come.
Magazines are like the best deal ever. You pay $10 or $20 a year and get delightful little snippets of whatever you love coming directly to your door. In your mailbox! Once a month! Glorious!
I have weird little magazine rituals. I hate, hate, hate when anyone tries to rea> them before me. If you’re someone I know and I’ve let you read my magazine before me consider yourself blessed. This is not something I reserve for others. They are mine! Mine! Mine! But, I don’t like to read them right away. I save them. I don’t know exactly what I’m saving them for. Is it a rainy day? Perhaps it is to fill a lull between books? Maybe it's so I'll have something to do if we ever actually need to use our bomb shelter. There is no rhyme or reason for it. We all have our things.
What I love most about magazines is that you don’t have to read them all at once. If you have a few minutes you can read a page or two and move on. It’s a good early-morning pick-me-up. A good naptime break or something to do when you’ve finished all your chores (does this ever really happen, I think better said it would be when you have given up on ever having a clean house) and you want to read while your child watches Sesame Street. I know the publishing houses have my name. I am constantly getting mail asking me to subscribe to this or that magazine for $10 a year. I have to say no. Enough is enough. I am a sucker for a good deal; my mom taught me well.
I think you can tell a lot about a person based on what they read. I have used my magazines to keep in touch with the person I was before motherhood as well as to embrace the person I am now. I subscribe to Real Simple, The Food Network Magazine, Rachael Ray, Parents, Self, Shape, Marie Claire, Taste of Home and Fitness. The thing I find most amusing about my little magazine obsession? Each and every month, I get to the end of the month/beginning of the next and when I check into my magazine stock, I always, always have at least two of the health and exercise magazines left. Hmmm…What does this say? I like to eat. I like to cook. I like to read but I don’t necessary like to move. Another post for another day, my friends…
Whatcha reading?
Friday, March 12, 2010
Ch-Ch-Ch Changes
Happy Friday to all! If you're a fellow stay-at-homer, this may or may not mean anything to you. It doesn't really mean much to me since Bread typically works at least a half day on Saturdays. This has always been the way of his career so I'm used to it. Sundays are my happy day.
Fridays are a fun cooking day around here. Since we are living on a single income and have a child with a peanut allergy that restaurants don't take very seriously, we don't go out to dinner as often as we used to. Back when I had a job, Fridays were usually a day to go out. Who am I kidding? So were Saturdays, Sundays and pretty much ever other day of the week. Anyway, on Friday's I try to make something restaurant-ish. Meaning: something that's maybe not so good for us. Usually, it's pizza, enchiladas or some sort of grilled sandwich.
Tonight we are having lasagna. It's one of Bread's favorites. I received the ultimate compliment from him in regards to my lasagna which is actually my mom's. He said he liked it better than his mom's. If you have a husband, wife or significant other who enjoys food, their mother's food in particular, you know this is indeed fantastic.
But, I recently feel in love with The Pioneer Woman and her blog. She has an amazing sounding lasagna recipe. I really want to try it. Should I rock the boat? This is a big decision. Bread likes his food. I could really throw him off with this.
I am still undecided. It's not like he won't eat it; he pretty much eats everything. Bread is a hard-working man and I like to have him well fed.
You know it's a good day when the biggest decision you have to make is what lasagna recipe to use and you don't need to go to the grocery store either way. Life is good! Enjoy your weekend!
Fridays are a fun cooking day around here. Since we are living on a single income and have a child with a peanut allergy that restaurants don't take very seriously, we don't go out to dinner as often as we used to. Back when I had a job, Fridays were usually a day to go out. Who am I kidding? So were Saturdays, Sundays and pretty much ever other day of the week. Anyway, on Friday's I try to make something restaurant-ish. Meaning: something that's maybe not so good for us. Usually, it's pizza, enchiladas or some sort of grilled sandwich.
Tonight we are having lasagna. It's one of Bread's favorites. I received the ultimate compliment from him in regards to my lasagna which is actually my mom's. He said he liked it better than his mom's. If you have a husband, wife or significant other who enjoys food, their mother's food in particular, you know this is indeed fantastic.
But, I recently feel in love with The Pioneer Woman and her blog. She has an amazing sounding lasagna recipe. I really want to try it. Should I rock the boat? This is a big decision. Bread likes his food. I could really throw him off with this.
I am still undecided. It's not like he won't eat it; he pretty much eats everything. Bread is a hard-working man and I like to have him well fed.
You know it's a good day when the biggest decision you have to make is what lasagna recipe to use and you don't need to go to the grocery store either way. Life is good! Enjoy your weekend!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I'm NOT Watching Trashy TV All Day
I thoroughly believe that all things relating to babies and children fall into one of three categories: Things We Knew, Things We Thought We Knew and Things Nobody Told Me. The biggest category, in my experience is Things Nobody Told Me. I will probably write several posts on this subject because it often baffles me. I often find myself wondering how it was possible for me not to know about something or other prior to giving birth. Perhaps I was thinking about how when it comes to some things, ignorance is bliss.
Recently, my friend Jackie, who frequently texts me from her job, sent me a message saying she was done working, she was ready to quit and sit on the couch watching trashy TV all day (until I typed this up I didn’t realize this but, is she implying that’s what I do all day? WTF?). Now,this was one of those days where parenting and Chinese Water Torture feel like the same thing. My words to her were something along the lines of, “No actually, keep your job. DO NOT QUIT. I dedicate entire days to this child and she does this to me. She is a demon. Go to work. Pay somebody to watch your child and keep your sanity.”
Jackie tells me she thinks this is funny. I love an audience and for me she’s easy so I keep it up. I know she’s laughing. I know she’s at work and she’s having a bad day so I offer up some comic relief. Finally she tells me I have to stop because people are staring at the crazy lady who is hysterically laughing to herself. I tell her she has to stop because she might wet herself. This is another side effect of having kids. THINGS THEY DON’T TELL YOU. Yes, it’s true. After you have a baby, you might leak a little bit (or hell, I don’t know, maybe even piss your pants) when you laugh, cry, cough or sneeze. Yep, it happens.
So ladies, when you are exercising to try and get your pre-pregnancy body back don’t forget to work “those” muscles too.
Recently, my friend Jackie, who frequently texts me from her job, sent me a message saying she was done working, she was ready to quit and sit on the couch watching trashy TV all day (until I typed this up I didn’t realize this but, is she implying that’s what I do all day? WTF?). Now,this was one of those days where parenting and Chinese Water Torture feel like the same thing. My words to her were something along the lines of, “No actually, keep your job. DO NOT QUIT. I dedicate entire days to this child and she does this to me. She is a demon. Go to work. Pay somebody to watch your child and keep your sanity.”
Jackie tells me she thinks this is funny. I love an audience and for me she’s easy so I keep it up. I know she’s laughing. I know she’s at work and she’s having a bad day so I offer up some comic relief. Finally she tells me I have to stop because people are staring at the crazy lady who is hysterically laughing to herself. I tell her she has to stop because she might wet herself. This is another side effect of having kids. THINGS THEY DON’T TELL YOU. Yes, it’s true. After you have a baby, you might leak a little bit (or hell, I don’t know, maybe even piss your pants) when you laugh, cry, cough or sneeze. Yep, it happens.
So ladies, when you are exercising to try and get your pre-pregnancy body back don’t forget to work “those” muscles too.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
This is the Part where Reality Sets In
Despite it being well over a year since I began my new life as Domestic Diva, I still have a hard time accepting this. It's not glamorous. I no longer need high-heeled shoes. Pencil skirts are a thing of the past. I suppose I could still wear these things but I'd look like a nutter chasing my two year-old in that getup. I don't need any extra help in the crazy department.
The reality of my life just hit me. I just made pot roast in the crock pot. That's not so bad, right? I was wearing a giant bathrobe and a blue face mask. Multi-tasking? At least it's a dill pot roast...
The reality of my life just hit me. I just made pot roast in the crock pot. That's not so bad, right? I was wearing a giant bathrobe and a blue face mask. Multi-tasking? At least it's a dill pot roast...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Are you there God? It's me, Jessie.
I have always been a day dreamer. I love to imagine things. One of my favorite things to think about is what we would do if we won the lottery. Ah, yes, I know I have better chances of being struck by lightning. But, it’s still fun to imagine.
We are in a lottery pool with some friends. Because if you’re going to win the lottery it isn’t any fun if it’s just you. I mean, it would be okay but definitely not the same as having most of your closest friends share in the fun. Nobody would have to work. We could spend entire days lounging by the pool at our mansion while the nanny took care of the fits! How awesome is that? So anyway, we started a pool about a year ago. We all threw out a number or two with significant meaning to us and there it was-our winning numbers.
I’m a firm believer in Karma. We are all good people. We deserve to win. We have a plan. Bread and I are going to buy a ranch somewhere in the west. Another couple will cover the Caribbean. One other couple can cover Europe and the last is buying a nice place here in the mid-west. This way we can all have places to vacation. Places with guest houses for the children (insert a wicked laugh here).
I drive past the billboard advertising the jackpot at least once a week. I’m not super religious but I pray. I pray every time. I know there is a God. Is he listening? I need things. I’m not even being greedy; a couple million is fantastic. We could make that work. So maybe if I post it on my blog he will answer. Mama needs a new Swiffer.
We are in a lottery pool with some friends. Because if you’re going to win the lottery it isn’t any fun if it’s just you. I mean, it would be okay but definitely not the same as having most of your closest friends share in the fun. Nobody would have to work. We could spend entire days lounging by the pool at our mansion while the nanny took care of the fits! How awesome is that? So anyway, we started a pool about a year ago. We all threw out a number or two with significant meaning to us and there it was-our winning numbers.
I’m a firm believer in Karma. We are all good people. We deserve to win. We have a plan. Bread and I are going to buy a ranch somewhere in the west. Another couple will cover the Caribbean. One other couple can cover Europe and the last is buying a nice place here in the mid-west. This way we can all have places to vacation. Places with guest houses for the children (insert a wicked laugh here).
I drive past the billboard advertising the jackpot at least once a week. I’m not super religious but I pray. I pray every time. I know there is a God. Is he listening? I need things. I’m not even being greedy; a couple million is fantastic. We could make that work. So maybe if I post it on my blog he will answer. Mama needs a new Swiffer.
Monday, March 8, 2010
It Takes Two to Tantrum
If my child’s fits were a movie they would be an epic. At first it was tolerable but as time has passed they’ve gotten worse. I am at the end of my rope. I told Bread I believe she is premenstrual. This has been going on for about six months. Some days are worse than others.
Today has been especially bad. I was near a breakdown. I am still in my pajamas. It is past one o’clock in the afternoon. I have officially lost the desire to participate in this day. I’m sitting on the couch listening to HGTV, wearing the hood of my sweatshirt. I feel this will protect me from the elements of my child. I am over this. The sooner it ends; the better. It all began at 5 AM. Who gets up at that hour if they don’t have to?
People keep telling me, “she’s only two and this will pass.” When? Can you give me a time frame? If I had a time frame I could handle this better. Are you thinking tomorrow? Next week? Is it a year? God help me if it’s a year. I will not survive.
I know you all think I’m exaggerating. I’m not. It’s bad. If I ask her to do anything it’s a fit. Let’s change your diaper. Fit. Now it’s time to brush your teeth. Fit. How about some breakfast/lunch/dinner? Fit. Get your shoes so we can go have a play date. Fit. Our relationship has become volatile.
I have tried counting. I’ve tried timeout. I have tried making her stand in the corner. I have tried all out balls-to-the-wall screaming. I don’t know what to do. Today I did some internet research and requested some parenting books from the library. I am number 14 on the list for the book I chose! I could be dead by the time it’s my turn. Why don’t they have multiple copies of this book? Don’t they know there are desperate parents out there?
And desperate I am. WTF am I doing wrong? Why does this keep happening? I quit my job to be with her to make her life easier and this is how she repays me? I am terrified to leave my home. I have been embarrassed by public tantrums more times than I could count. The librarians give each other looks when they see me coming. I have to run through retail stores. I did some research looking for suggestions on how to handle these episodes. Most things said that I should leave. Obviously the person who wrote that has no clue. My cart is full. I just spent 45 minutes selecting all the things I need for the week. I should leave? As in I’d have to come back and try again. Screw that. Plus doesn’t she win that way? She obviously does not want to be there…
The reality is I know this will eventually pass. But it has become depressing and consuming; this is my life. I am afraid to leave the house. I feel like I’m a horrible parent with absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Perhaps I am not alone. I suppose I’m not since 13 other people wanted the same book as me. All I can say is, she better make a lot of money someday so I can live the life of luxury. I’m talking millions. For now I'm going to tiptoe around the house so as not to disrupt the demon's nap.
Today has been especially bad. I was near a breakdown. I am still in my pajamas. It is past one o’clock in the afternoon. I have officially lost the desire to participate in this day. I’m sitting on the couch listening to HGTV, wearing the hood of my sweatshirt. I feel this will protect me from the elements of my child. I am over this. The sooner it ends; the better. It all began at 5 AM. Who gets up at that hour if they don’t have to?
People keep telling me, “she’s only two and this will pass.” When? Can you give me a time frame? If I had a time frame I could handle this better. Are you thinking tomorrow? Next week? Is it a year? God help me if it’s a year. I will not survive.
I know you all think I’m exaggerating. I’m not. It’s bad. If I ask her to do anything it’s a fit. Let’s change your diaper. Fit. Now it’s time to brush your teeth. Fit. How about some breakfast/lunch/dinner? Fit. Get your shoes so we can go have a play date. Fit. Our relationship has become volatile.
I have tried counting. I’ve tried timeout. I have tried making her stand in the corner. I have tried all out balls-to-the-wall screaming. I don’t know what to do. Today I did some internet research and requested some parenting books from the library. I am number 14 on the list for the book I chose! I could be dead by the time it’s my turn. Why don’t they have multiple copies of this book? Don’t they know there are desperate parents out there?
And desperate I am. WTF am I doing wrong? Why does this keep happening? I quit my job to be with her to make her life easier and this is how she repays me? I am terrified to leave my home. I have been embarrassed by public tantrums more times than I could count. The librarians give each other looks when they see me coming. I have to run through retail stores. I did some research looking for suggestions on how to handle these episodes. Most things said that I should leave. Obviously the person who wrote that has no clue. My cart is full. I just spent 45 minutes selecting all the things I need for the week. I should leave? As in I’d have to come back and try again. Screw that. Plus doesn’t she win that way? She obviously does not want to be there…
The reality is I know this will eventually pass. But it has become depressing and consuming; this is my life. I am afraid to leave the house. I feel like I’m a horrible parent with absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Perhaps I am not alone. I suppose I’m not since 13 other people wanted the same book as me. All I can say is, she better make a lot of money someday so I can live the life of luxury. I’m talking millions. For now I'm going to tiptoe around the house so as not to disrupt the demon's nap.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Oh Yes. She Did.
For a while, taking Bird shopping was not fun. I had to wonder if she was really my child. I love to shop. I especially love a sale. I am a sucker for a good deal which somewhat explains my obsession with Costco. Anyway, we’re talking fits, hitting, yelling and refusing to ride in the cart. Downright utter embarrassment. At some point, I stopped leaving the house with her making me feel like even more of a recluse than I already am.
Then I discovered fruit snacks. Yes, I bribe my child with food. Call social services. Do you need the number? She likes fruit snacks. I like to shop with a child who isn’t screaming and causing a scene; making me sweat like a you-know-what in church. Bingo. Score one for mom.
Last week, I took my little angel and a supply of fruit snacks to the grocery store. I had a list. We shouldn’t be inside for more than 30 minutes. I had promised her one of those carts with the car on the front. Those bitches are really hard to get and inconvenient to push. It’s like you have to get there early just to get a good cart. Low and behold they were all out that day. I thought things would be bad at that point as she was already asking for the cart. But, she surprised me by understanding they were out and agreeing to ride in the normal cart without causing a scene. Yes! This is good. We will have a pleasant trip.
Wrong. I believe it was all downhill from there. She was screaming for the fruit snacks before I even offered them (she catches on quick) and trying to stand up in the cart. Great. I’ll just hurry and get what we need.
She finally calms down enough that I can give her the fruit snacks without it seeming like I’m giving in to what she wants. She is good for a few minutes so I give them to her in order to buy some extra time. I head to the spice isle. I’m standing on the right searching for some Cumin and the elderly lady who was looking at the left side of the spice section walks in front of me and then proceeds to stand directly in front of me thus blocking my view. Now, another reason I don’t love people is because 90 percent of them are oblivious to the world around them; perfect example with Elderly Spice. But, I don’t say anything. I just wait patiently for her to finish looking or to acknowledge that she’s standing in my way (not fucking likely).
Then, I hear Bird saying, “No! No! No! You get out of here! You go away! Go away! No! No! No!” Oh, my God, instant mortification. I quickly look away and pretend I don’t hear her. She does not stop. I think 20 seconds have passed. I hope she stops. The lady looks up and realizes that Bird is indeed talking to her. I don’t even know what to say.
The lady’s eyes are bugging out of her head (so not a good look for her), so I make Bird apologize. I’m sweating again. And upset. That was so traumatic. What am I doing wrong as a parent that makes my child do that? What did I do? I can’t leave the house with her again. This is by far the worst thing she’s done. Way worse than the time she threw herself on the floor at the library…
I text Bread at work to tell him his child is evil. He calls me 20 minutes later on his lunch because he is kind and loving and he knows I’m having a day. How do I repay him? I yell. I scream. I tell him it’s not worth it for us to be broke and I might as well have a job because I’m not teaching her anything and why did she do this? And? And? And? Because I have the crazy this is what I do.
We hang up. I feed Demon Child lunch and she takes a nap. She was tired. That’s why she did that. Right? I console myself with some cookies and half a pint of ice cream. I feel better. I think about it. I mean, Elderly Spice was standing in front of us. This was rude. She didn’t acknowledge her rudeness and was very eager to acknowledge how rude my child was being. I don’t condone that behavior but my two-year-old had a point. She called her out. She was sticking up for her mom. Back off, bitch, you’ve been told. A little part, a very little part of me, is proud because I never say anything to anyone. I am mostly a doormat when it comes to that sort of thing. I mean, it’s just, people carry guns and nowadays you just don’t know. So normally, I say nothing and then I come home and talk about you on the internet! How’s that for rude? You can stick my Cumin up your…
Then I discovered fruit snacks. Yes, I bribe my child with food. Call social services. Do you need the number? She likes fruit snacks. I like to shop with a child who isn’t screaming and causing a scene; making me sweat like a you-know-what in church. Bingo. Score one for mom.
Last week, I took my little angel and a supply of fruit snacks to the grocery store. I had a list. We shouldn’t be inside for more than 30 minutes. I had promised her one of those carts with the car on the front. Those bitches are really hard to get and inconvenient to push. It’s like you have to get there early just to get a good cart. Low and behold they were all out that day. I thought things would be bad at that point as she was already asking for the cart. But, she surprised me by understanding they were out and agreeing to ride in the normal cart without causing a scene. Yes! This is good. We will have a pleasant trip.
Wrong. I believe it was all downhill from there. She was screaming for the fruit snacks before I even offered them (she catches on quick) and trying to stand up in the cart. Great. I’ll just hurry and get what we need.
She finally calms down enough that I can give her the fruit snacks without it seeming like I’m giving in to what she wants. She is good for a few minutes so I give them to her in order to buy some extra time. I head to the spice isle. I’m standing on the right searching for some Cumin and the elderly lady who was looking at the left side of the spice section walks in front of me and then proceeds to stand directly in front of me thus blocking my view. Now, another reason I don’t love people is because 90 percent of them are oblivious to the world around them; perfect example with Elderly Spice. But, I don’t say anything. I just wait patiently for her to finish looking or to acknowledge that she’s standing in my way (not fucking likely).
Then, I hear Bird saying, “No! No! No! You get out of here! You go away! Go away! No! No! No!” Oh, my God, instant mortification. I quickly look away and pretend I don’t hear her. She does not stop. I think 20 seconds have passed. I hope she stops. The lady looks up and realizes that Bird is indeed talking to her. I don’t even know what to say.
The lady’s eyes are bugging out of her head (so not a good look for her), so I make Bird apologize. I’m sweating again. And upset. That was so traumatic. What am I doing wrong as a parent that makes my child do that? What did I do? I can’t leave the house with her again. This is by far the worst thing she’s done. Way worse than the time she threw herself on the floor at the library…
I text Bread at work to tell him his child is evil. He calls me 20 minutes later on his lunch because he is kind and loving and he knows I’m having a day. How do I repay him? I yell. I scream. I tell him it’s not worth it for us to be broke and I might as well have a job because I’m not teaching her anything and why did she do this? And? And? And? Because I have the crazy this is what I do.
We hang up. I feed Demon Child lunch and she takes a nap. She was tired. That’s why she did that. Right? I console myself with some cookies and half a pint of ice cream. I feel better. I think about it. I mean, Elderly Spice was standing in front of us. This was rude. She didn’t acknowledge her rudeness and was very eager to acknowledge how rude my child was being. I don’t condone that behavior but my two-year-old had a point. She called her out. She was sticking up for her mom. Back off, bitch, you’ve been told. A little part, a very little part of me, is proud because I never say anything to anyone. I am mostly a doormat when it comes to that sort of thing. I mean, it’s just, people carry guns and nowadays you just don’t know. So normally, I say nothing and then I come home and talk about you on the internet! How’s that for rude? You can stick my Cumin up your…
Thursday, March 4, 2010
What's for Dinner, Bitches
Since I'm calling myself "Domestic Diva," I figured I should post something domestic-like. This is my favorite slow cooker recipe because it takes five minutes to make. I found it in my Fix It and Forget It Lightly book. I've probably made it a hundred times. It calls for diet soda but I use regular. I've also tried Sprite and added pineapple for a Caribbean-type meal and I've used root beer as well. It makes a huge portion. It's super-tasty on a bun with pickles and oven fries on the side. There are leftovers for a week. I have used the leftovers to make enchiladas and pizza. I want to try making chili with it sometime as well. Happy eating.
Barbecued Pork
2 lbs. boneless pork top loin
1 1/2 onion, chopped
1 cup soda
1 cup BBQ sauce
1. Place pork in slow cooker. Combine all ingredients in bowl and pour over pork.
2. Cover and cook on high 4-6 or low 8 (low is better)
3. Slice or shred pork and stir into sauce.
4. Serve.
Barbecued Pork
2 lbs. boneless pork top loin
1 1/2 onion, chopped
1 cup soda
1 cup BBQ sauce
1. Place pork in slow cooker. Combine all ingredients in bowl and pour over pork.
2. Cover and cook on high 4-6 or low 8 (low is better)
3. Slice or shred pork and stir into sauce.
4. Serve.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Back Away From the Crazy Lady
As a general rule, I don’t love people. I like people when I meet them; rather, I give everyone a fair chance. It’s the general public that really gets on my nerves. Society as a whole is a bunch of inconsiderate jerks. So today, I am writing about those things that irk me. Be warned this is not a complete list and I reserve the right to add to it at any time. Here are my current beefs in no particular order:
1. I despise people who refuse to say “excuse me.” I am a mom. But, contrary to popular belief, I do not have eyes in the back of my head. If you’re standing behind me, I can’t see you. All you have to do is say those two words and I’ll move. This doesn’t just apply to people standing behind me, although this seems to be the most ignorant variety of offenders. On more than one occasion, while I was out shopping, someone has actually stood and made eye contact with me waiting for me to read their mind. Note to all: I’m not doing that anymore; those days are over. You have been warned. You don’t scare me with your 1980’s hair and your fanny pack. Yeah, lady from Costco, I’m taking about you. Seriously, somebody’s going to catch me on a bad day and I’m going to show them what a real nutter I am. Call security!
2. Knock, knock. Who’s there? A salesperson. At my door, while my child is napping. First, I didn’t request your free estimate/product/religion. Second, I have a child and you fools love to come while she is sleeping. I have two dogs who will bark their heads off at you-intruder! Stay back! I treasure nap time. This is when I do my internetting. I get rage at these people. Most times I don’t answer but sometimes, when I look out the window, we make eye contact. Once I had a guy trying to sell me windows (ours are newer) while smoking a cigarette! Nothing against smokers but something about you blowing smoke in my face while insisting my windows are not energy-efficient doesn’t exactly spell winning sales pitch. And what can you do? They know where you live. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve never actually had a religious visit. I’ve seen them in my neighborhood many times but they’ve never come to my door. Perhaps they heard I cannot be saved…
3. Let’s talk about restaurant employees who do not take my child’s nut allergy seriously. Um, hello? She could die and you’re “fairly certain” there’s no nuts in whatever we are ordering for her/you’ll be sure to let someone in the kitchen know. I know it’s really inconvenient for you to have to walk to the kitchen and double check that everything is safe. I spent five long years as a waitress while I was in college so I get it. She is cute and happy and charming. I’m not a doctor or anything but I’m fairly certain that it would be a giant mess if her face started swelling and she exploded. It’s going to take a lot of energy to clean that up. Eff off!
4. How about Moms who wear “mom jeans.” You’re giving the rest of us a bad name. Stop.
5. My neighbor. You are not nearly as glamorous as you think you are. I truly am glamorous so I know this to be a fact. You are not in the club.
6. Lastly, I think I should talk about customer service in this country. I take where I spend my money very seriously. I do not shop at Walmart because their service is horrible. My biggest peeve in regards to customer service is when you are making your purchase and the cashier does not even greet you. Not only am I coming to your store/place of employment/the place where you get a PAYCHECK from, I’ve also made a purchase. Without people like me you would not have a job. How about a hello? I would even settle for eye contact. That would be lovely. I think if more consumers took this seriously many, many places would be out of business. Sadly, I fear my beloved Target is about to join this list due to an unfortunate trip to three stores in order for me to obtain eye cream. My eyes were puffy and you bastards wouldn’t help me find the cream I needed.
Obviously I know there are much bigger things happening in the world. I get that. This is my world and the shit that really pisses me off! I am a crazy, stay-at-home mom. I'm on the brink. I suffer from lack of adult interaction. These people walk a fine line.
1. I despise people who refuse to say “excuse me.” I am a mom. But, contrary to popular belief, I do not have eyes in the back of my head. If you’re standing behind me, I can’t see you. All you have to do is say those two words and I’ll move. This doesn’t just apply to people standing behind me, although this seems to be the most ignorant variety of offenders. On more than one occasion, while I was out shopping, someone has actually stood and made eye contact with me waiting for me to read their mind. Note to all: I’m not doing that anymore; those days are over. You have been warned. You don’t scare me with your 1980’s hair and your fanny pack. Yeah, lady from Costco, I’m taking about you. Seriously, somebody’s going to catch me on a bad day and I’m going to show them what a real nutter I am. Call security!
2. Knock, knock. Who’s there? A salesperson. At my door, while my child is napping. First, I didn’t request your free estimate/product/religion. Second, I have a child and you fools love to come while she is sleeping. I have two dogs who will bark their heads off at you-intruder! Stay back! I treasure nap time. This is when I do my internetting. I get rage at these people. Most times I don’t answer but sometimes, when I look out the window, we make eye contact. Once I had a guy trying to sell me windows (ours are newer) while smoking a cigarette! Nothing against smokers but something about you blowing smoke in my face while insisting my windows are not energy-efficient doesn’t exactly spell winning sales pitch. And what can you do? They know where you live. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve never actually had a religious visit. I’ve seen them in my neighborhood many times but they’ve never come to my door. Perhaps they heard I cannot be saved…
3. Let’s talk about restaurant employees who do not take my child’s nut allergy seriously. Um, hello? She could die and you’re “fairly certain” there’s no nuts in whatever we are ordering for her/you’ll be sure to let someone in the kitchen know. I know it’s really inconvenient for you to have to walk to the kitchen and double check that everything is safe. I spent five long years as a waitress while I was in college so I get it. She is cute and happy and charming. I’m not a doctor or anything but I’m fairly certain that it would be a giant mess if her face started swelling and she exploded. It’s going to take a lot of energy to clean that up. Eff off!
4. How about Moms who wear “mom jeans.” You’re giving the rest of us a bad name. Stop.
5. My neighbor. You are not nearly as glamorous as you think you are. I truly am glamorous so I know this to be a fact. You are not in the club.
6. Lastly, I think I should talk about customer service in this country. I take where I spend my money very seriously. I do not shop at Walmart because their service is horrible. My biggest peeve in regards to customer service is when you are making your purchase and the cashier does not even greet you. Not only am I coming to your store/place of employment/the place where you get a PAYCHECK from, I’ve also made a purchase. Without people like me you would not have a job. How about a hello? I would even settle for eye contact. That would be lovely. I think if more consumers took this seriously many, many places would be out of business. Sadly, I fear my beloved Target is about to join this list due to an unfortunate trip to three stores in order for me to obtain eye cream. My eyes were puffy and you bastards wouldn’t help me find the cream I needed.
Obviously I know there are much bigger things happening in the world. I get that. This is my world and the shit that really pisses me off! I am a crazy, stay-at-home mom. I'm on the brink. I suffer from lack of adult interaction. These people walk a fine line.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A Workout by Osmosis
The Olympics have been on for the past two weeks. Fortunately, for my very important television schedule, I only have one show I watch on NBC. It's The Biggest Loser. I love this show for so many reasons. The first is Jillian Michaels. She is awesome in so many ways; if you watch the show you already know. I also love the show because I can relate to these people. Having struggled with my weight most of my life, I know what being overweight and having food issues can do to a person. I know firsthand how it controls you and I truly feel for these people. I’ve shed many tears watching that show and the contestants fight to get their lives back.
The contestants on The Biggest Loser keep getting bigger and bigger. Each season the numbers are shocking. And, I’m going to be really honest here, I like that these people are bigger than I am. I watch this show and I feel thin. I think I don’t look so bad. I will sit on the couch and eat ice cream and cookies and chips and wash it all down with soda thinking about how svelte I am. Until the season progresses and these people get thin and fit and suddenly I need to eat celery and carrot sticks. Panic sets in. What the hell am I doing? I could have worked hard and lost a few instead of sitting here on my ass. I get motivated. I do. I see Jillian screaming at me to work harder. But, that’s not where we’re at right now. It’s the beginning of the season! They are big. And, since misery loves company, everybody knows that, I’ve missed that show for the past two weeks. I need to be able to sit on my couch, watch these people sweat and feel good. Go on- you workout. I’ll sit here admiring my ever-expanding waistline. Until you catch me. Then I’ll feel bad.
I can’t wait until tonight! What will I eat? Reunited and it feels so good...
The contestants on The Biggest Loser keep getting bigger and bigger. Each season the numbers are shocking. And, I’m going to be really honest here, I like that these people are bigger than I am. I watch this show and I feel thin. I think I don’t look so bad. I will sit on the couch and eat ice cream and cookies and chips and wash it all down with soda thinking about how svelte I am. Until the season progresses and these people get thin and fit and suddenly I need to eat celery and carrot sticks. Panic sets in. What the hell am I doing? I could have worked hard and lost a few instead of sitting here on my ass. I get motivated. I do. I see Jillian screaming at me to work harder. But, that’s not where we’re at right now. It’s the beginning of the season! They are big. And, since misery loves company, everybody knows that, I’ve missed that show for the past two weeks. I need to be able to sit on my couch, watch these people sweat and feel good. Go on- you workout. I’ll sit here admiring my ever-expanding waistline. Until you catch me. Then I’ll feel bad.
I can’t wait until tonight! What will I eat? Reunited and it feels so good...
Monday, March 1, 2010
Home, Home on the Range. Where Ring Bologna is a Del-i-ca-cy
I come from a small town where 90 percent of my extended family still resides. When we got married, we moved to a city about 40 minutes away. In my opinion, if you’re going to reside in the same state as your parents, you should live close enough for weekend visits but far enough that mom doesn’t walk in on your weekly naked television time (another post for another day, my friends). Anyhow, the small town I come from is close (within 25 minutes of driving to malls, chain restaurants and well, civilization) but for some reason my family hasn’t really evolved. Don’t get me wrong, they’re good people. They even have all of their teeth or, I guess, most of them have all of their teeth; they’re just very simple.
Recently, the food at family gatherings has become a big topic of conversation for Bread and me. There are how many holidays/birthdays/reasons to gather each year? My family eats the SAME THING EVERY TIME! I shit you not. Ham, macaroni salad (1970’s classic!), cheese dip, Deviled Eggs and cheesecake! What? Why are we having the same meal again? WTF? Oh wait, I’ve forgotten to mention the relish tray? What’s a relish tray? It’s fucking pickles. Every kind of pickle you could imagine. But, placed in a divided dish it’s really quite fancy.
The same people make the same things every time. Uncle Ed, here’s a surprise, please make a cheesecake again. I recently suggested that he should, upon January 1st, set up an assembly line, make about 12 of the damn things and freeze them. He would be set for an entire year! Stress free party going.
What’s your contribution to the spread you may be asking? Usually I’m told not to bring anything. I am 31 years-old. I can cook. I actually do 95% of our cooking at home. And, my husband is still alive. He doesn’t even spit it out. At least not when I’m looking…Anyway, on the rare occasion I can talk my way into bringing something I try to do something within their range so they’ll actually try it. I’ve made some progress; they now will eat sweet potatoes and they’ve even tried Tiramisu (remembering what it is they’re eating is another task for another day). “What’s that stuff called again?”
Now, I’m not a master chef or anything. We eat what I consider to be normal, healthy food. We make our own pasta sauces, grill and bake cookies once a week; eat fresh fruits and vegetables. We try new recipes and experiment here and there.
The most recent family gathering was for Grandpa’s 76th birthday. Grandpa is quite possibly one of the greatest people ever. He’s always happy, makes jokes and thoroughly enjoys a good laugh. He is definitely the center of the entire family. As far as food goes, he’s a true meat and potatoes guy. He doesn’t try much else which is probably why my family eats the way they do. The guy also enjoys salt on EVERYTHING. I once watched him salt corn beef. Yes, he did do that. He also used to cook his eggs in bacon grease which inevitably led to his triple bypass twelve years ago and then a pacemaker. But the guy loves food. He loves sweets and makes the best ice cream ever. He also loves beer and has turned the phrase God damn into an adjective.
So in honor of the greatest man’s 76th birthday, we had a gathering. Grandpa made ice cream. Aunt Cindy made a birthday cake (no cheesecake this time). We brought some baked beans. And the main course was? BOILED HOT DOGS. Yes, to honor one of the greatest people ever, we boiled some fucking processed meats. We didn’t even grill them. A big old’ pot of boiled wieners. Is your mouth watering? Can’t you just smell the processed lips and assholes of pigs? “Come on over, y’all we’re boiling some hot dogs!” And, you know what? Grandpa was just as happy as if we’d served him Filet Mignon. Greatest. Man. Ever.
Recently, the food at family gatherings has become a big topic of conversation for Bread and me. There are how many holidays/birthdays/reasons to gather each year? My family eats the SAME THING EVERY TIME! I shit you not. Ham, macaroni salad (1970’s classic!), cheese dip, Deviled Eggs and cheesecake! What? Why are we having the same meal again? WTF? Oh wait, I’ve forgotten to mention the relish tray? What’s a relish tray? It’s fucking pickles. Every kind of pickle you could imagine. But, placed in a divided dish it’s really quite fancy.
The same people make the same things every time. Uncle Ed, here’s a surprise, please make a cheesecake again. I recently suggested that he should, upon January 1st, set up an assembly line, make about 12 of the damn things and freeze them. He would be set for an entire year! Stress free party going.
What’s your contribution to the spread you may be asking? Usually I’m told not to bring anything. I am 31 years-old. I can cook. I actually do 95% of our cooking at home. And, my husband is still alive. He doesn’t even spit it out. At least not when I’m looking…Anyway, on the rare occasion I can talk my way into bringing something I try to do something within their range so they’ll actually try it. I’ve made some progress; they now will eat sweet potatoes and they’ve even tried Tiramisu (remembering what it is they’re eating is another task for another day). “What’s that stuff called again?”
Now, I’m not a master chef or anything. We eat what I consider to be normal, healthy food. We make our own pasta sauces, grill and bake cookies once a week; eat fresh fruits and vegetables. We try new recipes and experiment here and there.
The most recent family gathering was for Grandpa’s 76th birthday. Grandpa is quite possibly one of the greatest people ever. He’s always happy, makes jokes and thoroughly enjoys a good laugh. He is definitely the center of the entire family. As far as food goes, he’s a true meat and potatoes guy. He doesn’t try much else which is probably why my family eats the way they do. The guy also enjoys salt on EVERYTHING. I once watched him salt corn beef. Yes, he did do that. He also used to cook his eggs in bacon grease which inevitably led to his triple bypass twelve years ago and then a pacemaker. But the guy loves food. He loves sweets and makes the best ice cream ever. He also loves beer and has turned the phrase God damn into an adjective.
So in honor of the greatest man’s 76th birthday, we had a gathering. Grandpa made ice cream. Aunt Cindy made a birthday cake (no cheesecake this time). We brought some baked beans. And the main course was? BOILED HOT DOGS. Yes, to honor one of the greatest people ever, we boiled some fucking processed meats. We didn’t even grill them. A big old’ pot of boiled wieners. Is your mouth watering? Can’t you just smell the processed lips and assholes of pigs? “Come on over, y’all we’re boiling some hot dogs!” And, you know what? Grandpa was just as happy as if we’d served him Filet Mignon. Greatest. Man. Ever.
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