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.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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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