Bittersweet Utopia

I didn't realize I was alive during the Civil War?

2009-02-14T00:22:00.008-05:00

Well, it's that time again. Time for another fantabulous story about the halfling. It's a rare occasion that someone other than myself is privy to his humorous zingers, so it is especially nice when a friend (real or imaginary) is there to bear witness.

We were enjoying a heart healthy meal at McDonald's the other day, and were preparing to leave the impeccably clean Play Place to go home. The halfling, being ever the sport about leaving, was stalling.

Stalling is an art form, and he is a master artist.

If you haven't learned to properly stall by the time you can walk, you never will. Only the best and brightest children learn how to stall so that it appears they are not stalling at all. Only a wise Mother knows what the hell is really going on.

Like, for example, this scenario:

Mom: "It's time for bed, I'll tuck you in!"
Child: "I really like cuddling with you."
Mom:"OK, you can watch one more TV show."

The kid is obviously stalling. Sure, an optimist type mother likes to think that her child really likes cuddling with her. But the smart Mom knows that the little shit just wants to watch another TV show.

I am a smart Mom.

But, I am sure you already knew that.

Normally, the task of putting on shoes and socks takes about 1-2 minutes. The "expert staller" child can drag this process out for up to 10 minutes. Maybe more, if he's really good.

Now, I am not sure why the "putting on of shoes" task was chosen this bright, sunny day to prolong the playing experience at McDonald's.... Hiding at the top of the McDonald's Play Place and refusing to come down would have been much more effective. God knows I am not crawling my fat ass up there to drag him down. I'll be more than happy to order me a McFlurry and wait until the little freak gets hungry, has to pee, or tires of the cramped, smelly walls of that plastic wonderland. And I am not against enlisting another child to go up there and drag his ass down.

Today, the halfling decided that taking 3o minutes to put his shoes on was the best route to stay at McDonald's to play.

I was tired and annoyed. I was ready to leave.

While I was waiting for the "expert staller" to finish the shoe and sock charade, my friend Jessica and I were talking about the 1980's. I can't remember what brought up the subject, but it piqued the halfling's interest.

He asked when I was born.

I told him I was born in 1977.

And he rolled his eyes and gawked. Then he said this:

"Ugh, was that like during the Civil War?"

Why yes! Yes it was!

Little Fucker.

I made him walk barefoot to the car for that one.

I feel so stupid

2009-01-05T13:44:00.005-05:00

So, we all decided to go eat Japanese food last night for a belated birthday dinner celebrating yours truly. If you've read any of my blog, you might have guessed that I love all things Japanese. Well, I love Bento Boxes and Japanese food...what fat girl doesn't?!

Except Sushi

I'd rather eat the raw flesh from my arm than put the raw flesh of a sea animal down my throat....yeah, yeah...it's a "delicacy" or whatever.

I get it, I get it.... I think the Japanese created it because it was easier than cooking with fire and pots and pans. Maybe they were out of logs for the fire? Maybe it had been raining? Maybe they didn't want to dirty up a nice clean kitchen....I know I've avoided cooking for that very reason many times. Maybe the gas company turned off their gas for not paying the bill?

I'd rather eat Kraft Macaroni and Cheese from a box, you know, WHERE FOOD IS SUPPOSED TO COME FROM. I don't know about you, but I like my food full of preservatives and chemicals...that is how God intended it to be ingested.

Anyway, the fourthling was intrigued by the swinging of knives and the fire pit for...oh, about 30 seconds....and then the nuclear meltdown began. He wanted his food like 20 minutes ago. I, of course, being the stellar Mom that I am, began scrambling to find anything to stuff into his mouth to stop the crying. Being ever prepared, I found absolutely no food in his diaper bag, but I did find 2 Matchbox Cars and a sock. Sock? Mouth? Tempting. But, no.

The Waitress came to our "grill" and started asking what we wanted to drink. I pleaded with her and the conversation went as follows:

Waitress: "What would you like to drink?"

Me: "I'll have a gallon jug of your Mt. Fuji Mai Tai." I continued, "Do you have any crackers or anything I can give this child that doesn't belong to me that is screaming at the top of his lungs?"

Waitress: (Laughing nervously) "No, we stopped ordering crackers months ago. Sorry!"

Me: (Getting desperate now) "You don't have anything? Bread, Noodles? Nothing? I'll take anything, seriously!"

Waitress: "No, I'm sorry...we don't have anything. Well, we have rice crackers, but they are really spicy."

The fourthling begins to up his game plan at this point and has reverted to the tried and true arching of the back and flailing of the arms and legs.

Me: "Oh, Do you have any fortune cookies? I'm desperate here!"

And this is where it gets good...

Waitress: (In her most condescending voice ever) "No, sweetie...that's CHINESE not JAPANESE."

Now, I am not an Asian Retard. I know that fortune cookies are a CHINESE tradition, but I also know that I have been to a Japanese restaurant that has handed out fortune cookies at the end of the meal.

Had I remembered my "Asian Culture" hat that night, I would have avoided this "faux pas", but I was desperate to stuff FOOD in the fourthlings mouth so that other people could enjoy their meal in peace. I didn't care where that food came from at that point in time: China, Japan, Guam, hell...I would have settled for Tajikistan.

Excuse e moi!

Or

Shitsurei shimasu!

Touche!

Farts. Yes, I said it....FARTS.

2008-12-17T22:28:00.006-05:00

Living with nothing but organisms of the male species in this vast lonesome valley of estrogen I call home, I have come to accept that farts are like treasured precious pearls gathered from the furthest, most remote Tahitian Island.

Farts are funny, it seems. Small ones, big ones, wet ones, long and short ones....they all bring joy to even the smallest male in the house. The Fourthling can barely contain his excitement when he rips a big one.

Now, I like a good long fart just as much as the next fat girl eating at the all you can eat buffet, but only because I feel like I've just lost 10 pounds in relieving my digestive system of such ghastly nuisances.

I don't enjoy doing it.

I don't like the smell.

I just like the after effect. Who doesn't?!

The Halfling, being of sound age and mind, is especially fond of farts. He's 7, all he has are farts to entertain him. If it is not coming out of his ass, it's his fucking mouth. I have to constantly remind him the no one else thinks fart noises are funny. Just him. All by his lonesome. A boy and his farts.

I can hear him in his bed at night giggling and farting his way into a dreamland.

And then there is the digital camera that records 15 second videos. While cleaning out his room, I found it filled with nothing but videos of him making fart noises and laughing. And there were a few videos of real farts and more laughs. And then there was a video of his BFF Kevin farting.

And don't get me started on armpit farts.

This is a current intelligent conversation I had with him:
Me (The Mom): "Oh, Halfling...Did you fart in the car again? It stinks!"
The Halfling: "No, it was The Fourthling!"
Me: "No, that is NOT a Fourthling fart, you did it. Own up to it!"
The Halfling: "I can't help it. I just love farting and I love the smell so much!"
Me: (Rolling Eyes)

Now, don't be disturbed that I know the difference between The Fourthling's farts and The Halfling's farts. It's a Mom thing.

(I think)

(Or at least I tell myself that)

(I might also add here that I have a very sensitive nose)

Besides, I am appalled that my son, the very creature I gave birth to 7 years ago, likes the smell of his farts. Sick.

And before you (general you) get all on your high horse about "potty words". Yes, we use potty words in great abundance in our house. Fart, pee, poopy, stinky face, poopy pants, poo poo face, peepee lover, etc. are all used and well-loved. Go ahead and call DFACS on me. I'm ready. Just make sure you turn yourself in for not having a fucking sense of humor. *Smooches!*

I may never fully understand the male species and thier obsession with the things that exit their asses, mouths, and armpits... but I do know this: farts are not funny, unless they are blog material.

And that is totally different.

Totally.

Oh me oh my.

2008-11-30T23:53:00.003-05:00

Has it really been 4 months since I last wrote, my pet? Wow. How the time flies! I know you missed me terribly. I will play catch up in a few, k? I have a million and one things to do before this semester is over.

I will return with a report card with all A's!

Remember: I know Santa. I WILL call him.

I'm going to Nursing School!

2008-08-11T21:52:00.004-04:00

And judging by this picture I will be doing lines of cocaine in my sexy nurses cap. She looks torn. Do I snort it? Stick it up my nose? Hmmmm.....Maybe I will stick it up my patient's ass and get a good anal temp? She also looks like she is having a hard time reading the results. Don't burst a blood vessel, honey. Those are NUMBERS. They tell you what the temp IS. Just follow the red LINE.

So, I start on my venture into nursing on August 18th. I have quite a journey ahead of me. You see, when I first went to college I was only concerned with having fun. And, quite frankly, I was damn good at it. I could have given a rat's hairy ass about my school work. When I buckled down and studied, I did exceptionally well. All A's and a few B's. But what is killing my GPA is all my withdrawals. Oh, the big fat W's that haunt my past. W's, WF's. I hate them. I liked to register for classes, then decide later on that I didn't like my schedule. So, I withdrew from THOUSANDS of classes.

So, I have decided to return to school in pursuit of an academic fresh start. That's code for YOU SCREWED UP THE FIRST TIME, HERE'S YOUR LAST CHANCE MORON. DON'T SCREW IT UP AGAIN.

I get it, I get it.

So, I start anew in a few days. 4 years of glorious schooling with people half my age. Well, technically only 2 because I will apply to the school of nursing then. Basically, nursing school is VERY competitive these days. There is a HUGE shortage of nurses, but there is even more of a shortage of PROFESSORS. You can't train new nurses if there are not any teachers.

I read an article last week that last year 61,000 WELL qualified nursing students were turned down to nursing schools nation wide because there are not enough teachers. That's sad, really. And motivating. To get in to the school of my choice, I have to make all A's in my math and sciences. Not that hard right? Nah. Well, I have to admit I am a little bit nervous. I am a smart girl, don't get me wrong....but I have to work at it. It takes hard work for me to make all A's. I am so jealous of the students who barely have to blink to make an A. It's sooooooooo not fair. Of course, growing up my Dad always made me feel better telling me things like...."You will be a better person because you have to WORK for it!" The pep talk worked for a minute, but damn....I would LOVE to be one of the natural students who put in no effort. So sue me!

The idea of making an A without an effort sounds very appealing to me, mainly because I am a professional lazy ass.

Not anymore, my pet. I am a serious ADULT LEARNER/NON-TRADITIONAL student. I have my backpack, my MacBook (thank GOD for student loans!) and 3-Ring notebooks filled with "college" ruled paper.

Watch out world, here I come! And I KNOW how to take MEAN anal temp!

Admit it, you know you laughed too.

2008-06-29T23:26:00.001-04:00

Ninja. I'm feelin' it.

2008-06-08T15:01:00.001-04:00

more cat pictures

A little Ocean Humor

2008-06-04T20:35:00.001-04:00

more cat pictures

I have always loved Prairie Dogs.

2008-05-09T09:23:00.001-04:00

more cat pictures

The Spaz

2008-05-07T14:42:00.002-04:00

I don't have a dog. I have a spaz. She is the offspring of a spaz. I know this because her Father belonged to my parents. He was a Champagne colored toy poodle. He had issues. Serious issues. But he lived in a time before doggie psychology and Cesar Milan. He was doomed from the get go. My Mom would get so annoyed with him she would just let him roam the streets of the neighborhood. You could see him frolicking around the 'hood with his dopey smile. He wasn't fixed either. So, most of the time he was looking for some ass. Hot doggie ass, that is. Hence the dopey smile. One of his one night stands resulted in Sedona. My current spazoid. When I first laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one. I was single with no kids, mind you. I was so smitten with her cuteness I would take her every where with me. I even wrapped her Christmas presents and had a special stocking for her. Yeah, I was retarded. And I had too much time on my hands. I let it slide that she had this shrill bark that would render you deaf upon returning home, and that she peed all over the house when you left her alone because she was mad.

Fast forward to 2001. My first son, the halfling, is born. She tolerates him and his crying. He wasn't mobile, so she could deal. But, the day he began crawling, grabbing, squealing, and chasing....he became her most hated enemy. Yes, my dog hates my child. She still does. The halfling loves to annoy her. He wakes up in the morning with an agenda of:
1. Annoy the dog any way he can think of.
2. Eat breakfast and tease the dog with all the food he WILL not share but will pretend he will share.
3. Pretend to get a treat and run around the house yelling, "Sedona! TREEEEAAAAT!" So that the spaz will follow him around. It makes him feel uber importante.
4. Yank the blanket she is laying on from underneath her. It doesn't matter that the blanket doesn't belong to him...he used it once, so in his mind it is his.
5. Yell to me that Sedona is "looking" at him meanly. I can assure you that she is, in fact, glaring at him thinking of all the ways she will poop in his room when he goes to school. Or possibly thinking of strangling him with her leash when he is sleeping.
6. Lather, rinse, repeat.

They HATE each other. So, when the fourthling came along and we brought him home from the hospital...the spaz gave us this look like we were the most evil people on the face of the Earth. She actually sighed when she looked at him in his little carseat. That sigh meant, "Goddammit humans, not another one. I am outnumbered now by these spawns of satan."

She is a senile dog. She barks at her shadow, barks at the ice maker making ice, barks at any little noise the house makes. She barks when she hears Tristan cough during the middle of the night or when he rolls over in his bed. Thank you, Captain Obvious! She barks when the dog next door barks. I hate her, but I love her. We have a collar for her that shocks her when she barks. It actually works quite well, but the dumb bitch figured out the exact level of bark she can get away with...without the collar shocking her.

She could really use a lobotomy or some xanax stat.

I can't get this song outta my head, yo.

2008-05-05T21:07:00.002-04:00

Someone save me. I'm begging you. I thought my curiosity was just innocent, but it's become a full fledged addiction. I can peel my eyes away from the hypnotic dancing, the sweet serenade of love in the air and the twinkly stars. I sometimes catch myself dancing the lawnmower in the shower and singing "You love me you want to love me tender..." And then Kyle walks in the bathroom and I pretend I was leaning over to pick up the soap. And yawning...yes, that singing was YAWNING. I was in this video in my past life...That's me in the front with the dark hair. I can show you my red jeans too. My lawnmower technique is KILLA!

Hey Ya'll!

2008-05-05T20:55:00.003-04:00

Long time, no talk...eh? I know you missed me terribly. I've been super busy. Let's see...I've learned to read AND speak Japanese, learned to play the harpsicord, and taken up cooking classes at Le Cordon Bleu.

No, seriously....

I graduated Magna Cum Laude. Or whatever.

Now for the truth.

I have MONONUCLEOSIS.

In other words, I am really tired.

Birthing 2 children doesn't compare to the tiredness I feel.

Surviving on 2 minutes of sleep with a colicky baby doesn't compare.

Evidently, there is nothing medically necessary to treat Mono.

Other than REST.

Let's see. I will fit that in between the tantrum at 2 and Baseball at 4, k?

The nurse asked me if I drink caffeine. Um, yeah. I have an I.V. tap 24/7. I live on false alertness bitch!

And don't give me the wonk eye.

I will be glad to let you watch my kids for free so I can gently wean myself of the dark roast blend.

Daily Humor

2008-04-01T20:03:00.001-04:00

see more crazy cat pics

Jew, anyone?

2008-04-01T00:00:00.002-04:00

Before you go and get 'cher panties all in a wad...the above statement is not meant to be antisemitic. Oh, quite to the contrary. You see.... in our house, "Jew" is fourthling speak for "Juice". Or anything that remotely resembles a sippy cup. I'm sure we could spike his sippy with a nip a gin and he'd be none the wiser as long as it donned a popular cartoon character. In a life or death situation I fear he'd choose his sippy and paci over me. It's a rough place being in 3rd. We taunt him occasionally after we've hid his sippy in another room. "Where's your jew? Where is it? Go find your jew!". He frantically looks for it, calling out for it as if it will answer him one day, "Jew? Jew? Jew?" And we laugh because he cracks our shit up searching for his long lost jew. Oh, sweet manna from heaven it is.

Couscous or Kiki?

2008-03-31T18:04:00.002-04:00

The halfling and I made couscous last night for his lunch today. He was so excited to tell his teachers about his cooking adventure. It didn't really matter that all he did was stir for about 5 minutes. In his mind, he cooked dadgumit! When I picked him up we headed over to my Mom's to pick up the fourthling. My Mom asked him how his day was and what he did at school. Typical halfling fashion he informed her that they went to the bathroom, played outside and that he ate kiki for lunch. In other words, the bathroom trip was the highlight of his day. Oh, and the kiki...let's not forget the kiki!

Why is it I feel inspiration when I have somewhere to be...in like an hour?

2008-03-29T12:57:00.003-04:00

Oh, my heart yearns to crank out blog inspiration but alas, my dear readers, I have things to do today. People to see, parties to attend, money to spend. It's been ages since I've updated. I am gearing up to start an entire new blog on bento box lunches. How exciting, no? You will thank me in the future. Stay tuned!

A morning person I am not.

2008-03-29T12:54:00.002-04:00

Feel like speaking Yoda today I do.

see more crazy cat pics

Is it weird that I can identify with Monk?

2008-03-21T12:48:00.003-04:00

I admit it, I have issues. I've known this since I was a child. I line things up just so. Dishes have to be put away in a certain order. Clothes have to be folded my way. If things are not done a certain way....it eats at me to the point where I cannot function. It's all I can think about. I have to fix it before I can accomplish anything else.

I can distinctly remember after the halfling was born when we lost a pacifier one day. I searched for 2 hours until I found that one pacifier. Did it matter that we had 9 other ones just like it? No, it did not. Did it matter that the halfling didn't really even like his pacifier? Nope. I was grief stricken and absolutely panicked because if we lost one pacifier, that would mean that we had 9 pacifiers left, not 10.

10 is a good number...9 is not.

10=nice even number.

9=we lost a paci and we have 9 left.

9 is an uneven number and bad.

I couldn't live with that. I would obsess about the 9 pacifiers left and how we were supposed to have 10. I finally did find the damned lost pacifier, and when I did...I have never felt so relieved and happy. You'd think I'd just won the Nobel Peace Prize. It doesn't matter that I could have gone and bought another pacifier. I had to find the lost one. All things were right with the world.

Like I said, I have issues.

Bento Organization

2008-03-14T15:04:00.007-04:00

My favorite bento inspiration place....Lunch in a Box, is having a bento organization event. I am never one to turn down organizing anything, and heck...why not try to win something cool in the meantime? Ok, you avid BU readers, here is how I organize my bento's. Here is what hangs in the corner of my pantry. I had to take it out of the pantry to get a semi-decent photo of it for the event. I purchased this mesh organizer at Ikea about a month or so ago. I'm pretty sure I paid about $7 for it. I love organizing, but I love organizing things cheaply. Dollar Tree is like my second home. I sometimes go in there once a week to see if they have anything new and versatile. It's a genetic thing, I swear. I have an astronomical amount of bento's, I admit. I'm not embarrassed, so deal...k?
I like to use something different everyday for the kids. So, there is a method to my madness. Plus, this mesh thingy makes it easy for the kids to pick out which bento they want to use for the next day or certain outing we are going on. Cheap and kid-friendly! Just for sanity purposes, I keep all the bento belts strapped on the matching bento inside this organizer. It's easier for me, and well, I would faint if I couldn't find the matching bento belt otherwise. It's a OCD thing. There really is not a particular order to each mesh pocket. I divided by size and weight (to distribute it evenly) There is one pocket at the bottom that is collapsed. It will eventually hold more bento's. I have some shipping to me as I write this. The only bento's that do not fit inside this container are our Laptop Lunches and my husband's Mr. Bento. Those fit neatly inside a pantry basket on the shelf.

Next up.....accessories! These are organized by plastic shoe-box sized containers I purchased at Dollar Tree. Inside each container there are smaller plastic containers to keep items separate. I usually keep the boxes I use the most at the top for ease of access. Other boxes that I don't use on a daily basis (egg molds, rice molds, etc) I keep at the bottom. I do have one more box on my pantry shelf for bento bags and oshibori towels. Surprisingly, these do not actually take up that much space. I recently had revamped my pantry anyway, and it left me a bit of extra room. I have plenty of room left for other supplies I may pick up in the future. I apologize for the blurriness of the photo. From the top left: 1. Baran grass, ozaku cups and food picks and skewers 2. Larger ozaku cups and silicone cups 3. Sandwich, Veggie & Fruit Cutters 4. Medium and Large lidded and un-lidded side cups (mostly laptop lunch containers) 5. Egg molds 6. Rice Molds 7. Not pictured: Bento bags and oshibori towels. Like I said, I like organized things, but doing it cheaply is better. I spent about $19 on all my organization supplies. That includes the hanging mesh container, 7 shoe-box sized plastic containers, and 5 sets 0f 3 small plastic containers to fit inside larger ones. Which leaves me more $$$ to get bento gear. Vicious circle it is.....;)

Hey, man. I am a deep, philosophical person.

2008-03-13T09:38:00.010-04:00

Over the years I have pondered many a deep thought. Before I had children, I debated deep philosophical questions. Why am I here? What am I here for? What is my purpose? Blah, blah, blah....

I now question deeper things. Take children's shows for instance. A deep thinking philosophical person like myself has discovered an entire new realm of discussion topics. Let's look at some of the questions I have pondered since giving birth. World peace? Who gives a shit! I have more pressing matters to attend to.

Barney is evil. And what's up with the hiring of the goofiest kids in America to join in on his lovefest? I'd hate to have Barney on my resume. That would suck. Have you seen the peeps that appear on this show? It's a crappy acting fiesta, man. It's worthy of watching and having a good laugh. And even funnier if you are drunk like I am from sun up till sun down! Cheers!

And speaking of annoying television shows for kids....how anyone stomachs that brat Calliou is beyond me. Someone needs to smother him while he's sleeping. Whiney, bald, bratty and annoying. His parents must be so proud! Wait, his parents are morons too. First off, do his parents actually work? Ever? All they ever do on the show is putz around the house catering to their evil spawn. Every tantrum is a life lesson in this house. Who has that kind of time or patience? Secondly, what parent would put up with his absolute insane brattiness? I would sell him to gypsies, and use the money to go get me a strong, stiff flask of whiskey or better yet, go to Starbucks! Just look at him. Looking at him makes me want to tie his shoelaces together and watch him fall flat on his face. God, I hate him.

Over the years I have pondered many a deep thought. Before I had children, I debated deep philosophical questions. Why am I here? What am I here for? What is my purpose? Blah, blah, blah.

I now question deeper things.

For example, Max & Ruby. Ahhh, little Max. Not quite as annoying as Calliou...but very close. And Ruby....sweet, roly-poly Ruby. How Max has lived thus long and not popped a cap in her head is beyond me. Where are their parents? They have this huge house with no parents in sight. I occasionally see a Bunny Scout leader and some weird neighbor lady on the show. What gives?
And how come Franklin is the only animal that has the fortune of having a real name? Everyone else on the show goes by what animal they are: bear, rabbit, turtle, beaver. Franklin is the only animal with a real name. What's up with that?

Why does Little Bear's parents get to wear clothes, but Little Bear runs around naked all the time? And why do all the animals get to talk like humans EXCEPT for TuTu, the dog? Why are they hatin' on our canine friends? And how in the hell did Mitzi, a monkey, get all the way to the Canadian Rockies?

There are many other children's television shows that I often ponder, but I will save those for another time. Life's greatest mysteries are all on Noggin and Sprout.

Just cause.

2008-03-10T01:32:00.003-04:00

I want this shirt. If you want to buy it for me let me know, k?
Thanks!

Guten Tag. Ich heisse Hope!

2008-03-10T00:56:00.009-04:00

You know, I took German for 2 semesters and I actually made an A in the damn class. And the above statement is all I can remember. I think I can say my ABC's and count to 10 or something, but I don't think that really counts in polyglot-ism. It wouldn't help me if I needed to find the little girls room or a jumbo tampon in Germany now would it? Nope.

Yeah, so it's been forever since I have updated my blog, so sue me. Today IS your day! I can't sleep because of daylight saving, and I have a distinct feeling that come 6 AM I will regret my decision to stay up and peck away on the laptop at 1 AM while listening to the Bourne Supremacy DVD Menu song repeat over and over again because I am too lazy to get up and find the remote.

So, not much has been happening in our household lately. Same shit, different day...as I always say. I have made some yummy bento's lately. Wanna see? Of course you do! Let's dance with the devil!
OK, here we have the halflings lunch of steamed carrots and baby corn, and yaki onigiri (soy sauce seared sushi rice stuffed with pulled seasoned pork)
And the bottom tier has two Hebrew National octo-dogs and a small container of organic ketchup. None of that high fructose corn syrup crap in our house! A fish shaped boiled egg and 2 small laughing cow cheese cubes. I seared the hot dogs in a frying pan after cutting them to give them a octopus look.
And the whole set in it's entirety. Who doesn't want to eat of this cute little contraption? It says "Gee!" on the back. I have no clue what that means, but I am assuming it means "Ribbit" in some weird Japanese translation. Whatev's!

This is my life.

2008-02-22T23:54:00.001-05:00

From sun up to sun down.

If my dog farts one more time.

2008-02-22T22:59:00.003-05:00

I am going to happily dutch oven her tonight when I go to sleep. Just you wait, spazoid.

Today is Buffy's Birthday.

2008-02-22T22:41:00.002-05:00

Let's get a couple of things straight. No, Buffy is not a dog. Yes, I have a friend named Buffy and yes, she is real. No, that is not her real name. Technically, she goes by "Elizabeth" now. Buffy is a nickname. If you don't have a friend named Buffy, well....you need to find one. Like, now. Everyone needs a little Buffy in their life.

I've known Buffy forever. I think we met when we were like 2 years old. I can't remember the exact date, but I do know that the moon was in its 7th house and that Jupiter was aligned with Mars that day or whatever.

It was destiny.

Buffy turns 30 today. I am almost positive that she has done about 29 shots already. And it's not even midnight. See, I can't join in the birthday festivities because someone had to go to work and be responsible. And that only leaves me to watch the brats.

I wonder if they'd notice if I left......................?

I could fill an entire night with the tales from my childhood with my dear Buffy.

Happy 30th Buf'!

We've lost the remote again.

2008-02-19T17:37:00.003-05:00

We lose the remote at least once a day. Sometimes more, depending on how stealthy the halfling and the fourthling are feeling that day. Then, my husband gets all pissed off and threatens to glue the remote down to the table if we don't get our asses in gear. He has, as of yet, not done this. But, I guess it makes him feel better to yell it out for all to hear occasionally. I guess he thinks his threats scare us.

We are currently enjoying the poltergeist channel. Craig T. Nelson would be so proud.

If I was I was really good Mother I would make the fourthling put his hands on the screen and repeat the words, "They're here!" That is, if he could talk......and if he could follow directions. But for now I will just enjoy the white noise of scrambled television. I wonder if Zelda Rubenstein does house calls anymore? And I wonder what MY television has to say.

I need to clean. I need to clean. I need to clean. Let's write a blog about it!

2008-02-19T17:31:00.002-05:00

I haven't quite figured out how a six year old and an 18 month old can disrupt the zen of a clean and tidy house in a matter of say.....3 seconds? If anyone has any idea how this done, let me know. It is one of the greatest mysteries of life.

This video made me pee in my pants. Literally.

2008-02-15T21:47:00.001-05:00

Something about animals doing their "thing" just cracks me up. I was on the floor crying when I saw this video. I am sick like that.

The things kids say

2008-02-15T21:45:00.001-05:00

I love this little girl. She needs to kick my ass.

Since I am on a roll today.

2008-02-14T23:11:00.002-05:00

Funny and true story:

When my brother, Robbie Rat, was about 5 or 6 years of age we had a cat named Peanut. She was our friend. We loved on her, dressed her up, cut her whiskers off numerous times, picked her up by her tail and other fun loving family activities. Typical kid stuff. She tolerated us to a point, then she would attack and run away. We absolutely loved to make her meow. It was the little things that entertained us. Simple folk, we were. When we wanted her to meow, we would squeeze her in the fattest part of her middle until she made this hilarously funny meowing sound. It was like kitty constipation noises. We thought it was pretty damn funny, so we did this often. And before all you animal activists get your panties all in a wad...we didn't hurt her...she liked it. She was a closet sadist. So, deal, ok? So, we'd squeeze and laugh and laugh and squeeze. The sound, if you can imagine it, sounded like, "Uuuuhhhmmmmmmaaaaarrrrrrowwwwwwwwww." Kind of like the sound of a cat makes late at night when talking politics with the neighbor cats and things get heated.
My Aunt had just had her first baby boy, Allen. He was only a couple of weeks old and one night my dear brother was talking to her on the phone about the new baby. Robbie Rat was insistent on hearing the baby talk. My Aunt kept telling him that he was sleeping, but that he would make noises for him over the phone later. This answer wasn't good enough for the rat. He was an expert at extracting noises from creatures that otherwise did not want to make noise. He promptly told her, "Just squeeze him really hard and then he will talk, I promise!"

I will have you know that Robbie is now studying to become a Vet. I bet he squeezes all those cats when no one is looking though.

Yeah, I'm an idiot.

2008-02-14T22:44:00.003-05:00

I fully embrace that when I became pregnant with the halfling many moons ago I would subsequently loose millions of brain cells. I accepted that fact when I found myself standing in line during my lunch break at Subway and completely forgot what bread was. Bread? What's that? I couldn't think of the word bread. "Yes, Mr. Subway Sandwich fixer, I'll have the 6" white.......uh, uummmmm.....you know......fluffy stuff." If losing 89374509823674065983 brain cells once wasn't enough, I went for round 2 with the fourthling. And, one day in the near future I plan on doing it again. Don't ask me why, but I do have a contingency plan to hold onto at least 5 brain cells. One for each member of the family. I figure that is all I really need anyway.
So tonight we decide to go out to eat my with in laws. We gather up all the brats and start on our merry way. Kyle is in an exceptionally pissy mood, as he always is when he wakes up in the late afternoon. It takes him at least 4 hours to get over his bitchiness. We finally arrive at the restaurant. The fourthling was screaming at the top of his lungs and the halfling was happy as a clam making fart noises in the crook of his arm for the entire car ride. I had a screaming headache. It was then that I realized I couldn't find my purse. I remember having it at the car with me, because I put it on the trunk before I began strapping the fourthling into his car seat. Then I got in the driver seat. And off we went.
Somewhere in between I lost my purse. We started the drive back home, thinking and hoping that I left it inside the house.

Nope. Not there.

The Spaz was excited to see us again. She had to spend a whole 20 minutes alone, you know. That is absolute torture for her.

Not in the driveway either. Or the street.
Now, I am panicking.
Our neighbor walks over and asks if I lost a purse.
Um, Yeah!
He said the neighbor down the street found it.
I went running (well, not really...but I walked really fast) to his house.
Sweet Jeebus! He had the damn thing! I petted it and kissed it. Threw it up in the air in utter delight. First I was happy, then I was angry. Bad purse. Baaaaad purse. You're in deep trouble for scaring me like that. Don't ever do that again!
Evidentially our neighbor found it about 1/4 of a mile from our house.
And yes, I left it on the trunk.
At least it wasn't one of the brats. Or worse....the new laptop!

My most embarassing moment. ever.

2008-02-14T15:26:00.004-05:00

The year was 1991. My bangs were poofed sky high and no amount of wind was gonna knock ‘em down. Besides, I used L.A. Looks Hairspray. That stuff was like spray on super-glue. It would take an nuclear meltdown to tear down my wall of hair . I wore a stylish calf-length black and white plaid jumper that day. No pantyhose, (7th graders can get away with that look) white socks and the ever so popular Keds tennis shoes. My outfit was perfect.

It started out like any ordinary day would for this NKOTB lovin’ gal. Hangin’ Tough played loudly on the radio as my Mom drove me to school in her crappy Mercury Sable. I was feeling good. Little did I know what the future held for me that horrendous day.

I made it through 1st period alright, then I felt that twinge in my crotch. All girls know it. And all girls FEAR it when it happens. Admit it girls, you've felt the twinge. It is especially worrisome if you are wearing a black and white jumper and ill-prepared for the first day of your period. I quickly eased myself up to the teacher’s desk to ask for permission to go the bathroom. I moved ever so gently as not to erupt the encompassing flow of death that I was sure was coming very soon. I made it to the bathroom, but in my rush to get the heck outta the classroom I realized I forgot to ask the teacher for a pad. I didn't care how urgent the need, I wasn't walking all the way back to ask for one. That would be like death warmed over and social suicide for this quick thinking 7th grader. No, I would have to come up with another plan.

Being of sound mind and body, I rolled up some toilet paper to create a make-shift maxi pad and placed ever so gently in the crotch on my underwear. I smiled at how frugal I was being. Heck, I was so pleased with my little invention I just decided to not even bother asking for a pad for later that day. And that decision is where my trouble started.

Next up was recess. I knew I had to hurry! I tromped my happy ass outside to join in a game of kickball. I was flying high and feeling good. I kicked the ball with the greatest strength I had ever felt run through my body. I ran as fast as my semi-chubby legs would allow me.

As I ran, I felt it. I felt it free itself from my underwear and felt it float onto the ground. I saw it there. Laying on the ground. Just staring at me. I tried to save face and acted surprised as I witnessed what lay in front of me. Sheepishly I shrugged my shoulders as if I didn’t know who put that ungodly thing in the middle of the kick-ball field. Everyone knew it was me. Everyone. I wanted to crumple up and die. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Heck, I would have settled for being that damn piece of toilet paper on the ground reflecting the sun’s fierce glow in all its red glory.

I then decided it would be a good idea to put my foot over it and try to cover it up and hide it. Which I did. But then I couldn’t move. People were yelling at me to run to 2nd base. They were yelling at me to pick up my icky pad. They were laughing and snickering. Those that didn’t see “the incident” as I lovingly refer it to…would soon know about it. Gossip like this would spread like a wildfire on a hot windy California day at my small school. They might as well have put the story on the marquis. Life as I knew it was over. I picked up the toilet paper, wadded it up in my hand and made a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

"Dear God!", I prayed as I ran, "why me? Why now? Life was going so great! I’ll never live this down. Oh, God WHY?!!"

I tried to boost my shattered ego a tad by telling myself that no one noticed…that no one will care…that I just imagined it (all of which were lies and really were not making me feel any better).

But just when I was feeling a little bit better and had calmed down after my frightful accident...... I saw the “stain” on my dress. I knew that this day was far from being over for me and my very unwelcome visiting Aunt Flo.

Oh, God had much bigger plans for me that day. In my 7th grade mind I began to go through the solutions to this problem. I could:
1. Call Mom to come a save me.
2. Tell the Teacher and she will save me.
3. Hide in the bathroom. Forever.
4. Flush myself down the toilet.
5. Find some “White Out” (the liquid pen eraser stuff) and fix this little problem. I’d paint it on the “stain” and all will be good.

I decided in a flash that # 5 is the best solution for me. I sneaked out of the bathroom, down the hallway stairs and around the corner to our classroom. I located my desk and began rummaging for my white out. I knew it was there somewhere. I looked, and looked, and looked again. No amount of rummaging was going to make it appear. I knew my time was limited.

I decided to go with plan B... Erika, my "frienemy" had some in her pencil box…I’ll just borrow hers to fix this little problem. An added bonus was that she sat right next to me.

I located her white out, put her pencil box back where I found it…slithered down the hallway, around the corner and up the stairs to the bathroom again.

I carefully painted the white-out on the stain. Aunt Flo had mostly kept herself contained to the black part of my plaid jumper, but I wanted to cover up the white area that was stained too. I always prided myself on my creativity, and well....this was art!

Much to my surprise the white-out DID cover my stain. If it only would cover up the social downfall I was about to encounter. Outside the bathroom door, I heard voices. I panicked and decided to throw the white-out in the garbage. I even made sure to cover it up with paper towels so no one would see it there. Don’t ask me why I threw it away, but it seemed like a great solution at the time. I didn’t want to be caught with it. What would people assume?!

Recess was now over and all my classmates were lining up to make their way back to the classroom. I hung my head, and joined in the ranks. My best friend, Buffy, heartily dared anyone to say anything to me. I guess they listened because I never heard one snicker after that. No one ever talked about my kickball “incident” again. At least they didn't discuss it while I was around.

It was now 6th period and the day was almost over. I see that Erika is searching for something in her pencil box. I silently pray that it is not the white-out. Because I knew it was safely hidden under paper towels in the girls bathroom. Thank God I had covered it up with paper towels. How smart I was to be so stealthy! Her shrill voice rung out for all to hear, “Mrs. Thompson! I can’t find my white out! I KNOW it was in here ’cause I used it this morning! I think someone STOLE it.”

I kept my big mouth shut. And I think my heart stopped beating for at least 10 minutes.

Originally I posted this story on a website called The Pioneer Woman
for a Wii giveaway. I didn't win, of course. Go figure. I tweaked it a bit before I posted it for your reading pleasure. And yes, this really did happen. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Be inspired and tell the world about your most embarrassing moment!

Today is the day of LOVE!

2008-02-14T14:56:00.002-05:00

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore out thou Romeo?"

I know where my Romeo is. He is sound asleep and snoring sweet serenades of love to me from our bedroom. Ever the prepared lover that he is... I had a Valentines card waiting for me this morning. I'm sure he read every word in the store and found the absolute perfect card to express his undying love to me. It's really not important that I heard him sneak out at 1:30 AM to go to Walmart. And that I had to remind him that tomorrow was V-Day. To him, it's just another Hallmark holiday. But he humors me, and for that I love him. Here is what the card said on the outside:
"Because you're my wife I want to fill your life with tender touches and passionate kisses."
On the inside it read:
"To give you true understanding and always find new things about you to love...to save special time for just us two--our private escape from the rush of the world....and always, I want to delight you, intrigue you, and love you with all my heart and soul. Happy Valentines Day Love Always."

Now, as I read the above song and verse I had a good chuckle. Ok, I laughed out loud many times. You see, my dear husband is a man's man. He usually buys me funny cards that express his sick sense of humor. It wasn't the card that made me laugh, it was that it was so not like him to buy something so.....emotional. He was standing next to me enjoying the look on my face as I read and laughed.

He could have just left the card as is, but no.....
Not my husband.

It he wasn't putting his foot in his mouth, well, he wouldn't know what to do with it.

He said that as he picked around the Valentine card section (with several other men doing the same thing....at 1:30 in the morning) he found a frilly one, read a few words, exclaimed outloud for all to hear,"Well, that sounds queer enough!" and left.

Ah, such a romantic he is.

God, I love him.

Mobile Blogging

2008-02-13T20:35:00.003-05:00

Well, we have finally entered the 21st century. We bit the bullet and bought a laptop. With all the bells and whistles too. If I felt so led I could go drive around and find Wi-Fi hotspots at 2 in the morning. I could go and sit at Starbucks and look all professional on my laptop furiously typing. People would think I was on a deadline and my job was hanging by the skin of my teeth if I didn't get those reports in ASAP. Who cares if I am typing the same sentence over and over again.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Or I could type something like, "All Starbucks and no Maxwell House makes Hope a poor girl. All Starbucks and no Maxwell House makes Hope a poor girl."

No one would really know the difference anyway. Unless they decided to get all nosey and look at my computer screen. But, I'd just throw my latte on their lap and call it a day.

What is Love -- Diet Pepsi Max Super Bowl Ad

2008-02-11T21:51:00.001-05:00

Makes me laugh.

I love my kid. I love my kids. I love my kids.

2008-02-11T20:02:00.000-05:00

But sometimes they really piss me off. Like when I have told the halfling at least 213465468798797 times to brush his teeth. And when I make an appearance to check on the progress of said instructions I find him pilfering through my bathroom cabinets. A broken watch could entertain him for hours.

My Father, God love him, used to scream at us, "You're moving as slow as molasses on a cold Vermont Morning!" I never really stopped to think about just how slow molasses moves on a cold Vermont morning until I had kids. I swore I would never use this diddly of parental frustration, but I find myself using it all. the. time.

But what I can tell you is that I can completely vouch for the fact that the halfling moves much slower than molasses. He is more like frozen molasses. Ice age molasses. Prehistoric amberized molasses.

Typical anal person I am, I like things done NOW. Fast and furious. Piddling pisses me off. The halfling is an expert piddler. He can find something in a room of nothingness to piddle around with and waste time. I like to think that it is his wildly creative imagination at work, or at least that is the mantra I repeat to myself over and over and over again. And over again.

Look what I got in the mail from Japan today.

2008-02-09T11:59:00.000-05:00

I love getting packages in the mail. It's like Christmas to me. I get all giddy and excited like a 6 year old does on Christmas morning. Sometimes I wish my spaz of a dog would calm the hell down when the doorbell rings so I could enjoy the moment.

I especially love getting packages from another country. Today, it was from Japan. Something about seeing Japanese writing makes me smile. It's so, like..."foreign" to me. ;)
Plus, I think it makes me look cool to the mail lady. I know she walked away thinking how cultured and international I am.

She was so jealous, I could see it.

She wishes she had packages from Japan delivered to her door.

So, I signed the international waiver thingy, told the mail lady to beat it like Micheal Jackson, and hollered to the brats to come see what we got in the mail from Japan.

The halfling could barely contain his excitement. He kept asking, "It came all the way from Japan? Like where they write Japanese?!!!!" I assured him that yes, they do write in Japanese in Japan, or the last I heard they did.
The fourthling was more interested in the box and newspapers. Typical uncultured child he is.

So, lookie what we got.

What is it? Oh, it's an adorable bento box. A panda one.

And a Frog.

And the panda version of sweatin' to the oldies.

And well, this one came from beautiful state of Washington. But it was made in Japan so that counts for something. My online buddy, Amber, sent it to me from the Japanese dollar store. Because they are lucky to have one, Atlanta is NOT!

Oooooh! My doorbell just rang again! I know it's another package! I'll update later!

I see your schwartz is as big as mine!

2008-02-02T18:33:00.000-05:00

I love the movie "Spaceballs". Not only is it hilarious, it brings back so many memories from my childhood. Anyone who grew up in the 80's will agree. Such simple times, they were. I could just recite lines from Spaceballs for hours and it would entertain me and my husband. We're simple people, really. If you've never seen it...well, you need to come out from under that rock you've been living under and rent it. Actually, I think I've seen it in the $5 bin at Walmart. It might be more cost efficient to buy it rather than rent it. Go, search, laugh!

If he only knew....

2008-01-28T19:59:00.000-05:00

The halfling was so flabbergasted by the actions of a student in his class when he came home today. It's a little girl name Cindy. He exclaimed with great disdain that she was weird.

I asked him what made her weird, as anytime he talks about a girl I want to know more.

The halfling quickly responded..."Well, she gets mad, then happy, then she gets real bossy! She is WEIRD and cuckoo in the head!"

Oh, my sweet child if you only knew that ALL women are like this. And yes, we are all weird. And cuckoo in the head. At least he hasn't figured that out about me yet. I can do no wrong in his eyes. Sweet, sweet oedipus complex.

I have a new obsession.

2008-01-23T20:51:00.000-05:00

And it comes in a tiny little box. In my anal retentive fashion I have found my new hobby. A Bento Box. What is a Bento Box you ask? Let me tell all about Bento! This is from Wikipedia.

Bentō (弁当 or べんとう, Bentō^?) is a single-portion takeout or home-packed meal common in Japanese cuisine. A traditional bento consists of rice, fish or meat, and one or more pickled or cooked vegetables as a side dish. Containers range from disposable mass produced to hand crafted lacquerware. Although bento are easily available in many places throughout Japan, including convenience stores, bento shops (弁当屋, bentō-ya^?), train stations, and department stores, it is still common for Japanese homemakers to spend considerable time and energy producing an appealing boxed lunch.

Bento can be very elaborate, aesthetically pleasing cuisine arrangements. Often the food is arranged in such a way as to resemble other objects: dolls, flowers, leaves, and so forth.

Basically, it a Japanese lunch box. I first read about bento boxes online at a community I am active in called Two Peas in a Bucket. It is a scrapbooking website and I frequent the NSBR (not scrapbook related) forums. Ironically enough, I rarely have time to scrapbook anymore! But I love visiting the NSBR most everyday to participate in various discussions. I have found more information from the ladies there!
So after researching bento boxes online and asking a few questions of the NSBR bento box experts I settled on purchasing The Laptop Lunch Box. Here is a sample of the Laptop Lunch box system:
Doesn't it look so neat and tidy? I hate to clean, but I am a completely OCD about it. I hate it because I can't just "pick up" like normal people do. When I clean, I clean. When I organize, I organize. I like things in a certain way. The perfectionism can become quite annoying sometimes. For example, when I unload the dishwasher all my plates, bowls and other things have to be put away a certain way. The bowls have to be lined up perfectly. When the hubby cleans the kitchen I will inevitably go behind him and get my things just so.
That is why the bento box appeals to my OCDishness. Plus, we are on a complete food makeover in this house. We are all healthy, all the time. We are weaning ourselves off processed food, trans fat and HFCS (high fructose corn syrup). We are slowing transitioning into the organic/green lifestyle. We've got a loooooong way to go, but it's all about baby steps. A bento box reduces the waste that a child creates when taking his lunch to school. Plastic bags, food wrappers, napkins, plastic utensils, paper bags, juice boxes, etc. Over the course of 1 year a child can create over 65 pounds of waste per year. That is over 18,000 pounds per year for the average elementary school. Think of it, I will never have to buy another Ziploc bag again!
So, here are a few pictures of The Halfling's bento box lunch for tomorrow:

This is the outside of The Laptop Lunchbox
and I apologize for the crappy lighting. My camera was acting all wonky tonight.

And the view of when you open it.
You can put an ice pack in the mesh pocket.

This is the actual bento box and a water bottle when taken out of the
lunch bag it comes with.

The view when you open it up. Notice my reflection. Hello, gorgeous!

A close up of the individual containers. There are 5 containers.
1 Large with cover
1 Large uncovered
2 Mediums uncovered
1 Small covered
(It also comes with a spoon and fork)
When you close the box, it seals the entire box so it doesn't leak or drain.

For lunch tomorrow The Halfling is having leftover pizza I made for dinner. It is incredibly yummy and very good for you. It is made from organic whole wheat pita pockets, spread with spinach puree, then tomato sauce and topped with mozzarella cheese. Quick, easy, delicious and healthy! I cut the leftover pieces up small enough to fit in the closed container.
That is what is in the bottom left box. Next to that is cut up string cheese. The top left is cut up celery (after I took the picture I added some carrots), and the top right is a small container of peanut butter (all natural) with yogurt covered raisins. The Halfling loves to eat celery with peanut butter and raisins. We call them ants on a log.

I plan on posting some cute lunch ideas and pictures soon so stay tuned!
Here is a link to bento box infomation:
Lunch in a Box

Good for a laugh.

2008-01-23T17:03:00.001-05:00

moar funny pictures

Kick Ass Chicken Recipes v 1.0

2008-01-23T16:31:00.001-05:00

On any given day about 30000000000000000000000 people in America eat chicken for dinner. This, of course, is my personal estimation. Everyone has chicken in their freezer. If you don't, then you are on your way to the store to get some or worse....you are a vegetarian...or vegan.
I plan on spicing up le Poulet at my house. My goal is to get you excited about chicken again. Well, not really...but it sounded nice, eh?
This week I made an awesome chicken recipe and I plan on making it in the very near future. It's called Crispy Potato Chicken. Doesn't sound exciting does it? Maybe if we changed it to something fancy smancy like, Dijon and Lemon Garlic Chicken. That is not too exciting either, but you get the idea.

Here's what you need to make it:
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about2 large or 3 small ones)
2 Tbs. Dijon Mustard
1/2 Tsp. Garlic, Chopped
1 Potato, Grated
1/2 Tsp. Oil
1/2 Tsp. Lemon Juice
1 Tsp. Pepper

Now, I am a recipe rebel. I always add extra ingredients that I know we love eat. For example...2 teaspoons of garlic for 4 chicken breasts ain't cuttin' it at my house. I chopped up at least 7 cloves. We love garlic...and in abundance is even better. I also added more dijon mustard because the amount listed was just...sparse. I used shredded frozen potatoes because it was easier and I happen to have them on hand. I also discovered halfway into making this that I was plum out of lemon juice. So, I used lemon pepper instead. And of course I added salt, because...who doesn't?!

Here is how you make them:

Arrange chicken in a 9x9 baking pan of dish that has been lightly sprayed with cooking oil or butter. Set aside. Combine mustard and garlic together. Spread over the chicken breasts. Set aside. Mix potatoes, oil and lemon juice (or in my case lemon pepper and salt)
and spread over chicken. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake at 425 for 25-35 minutes or until juices run clear.

Here is my masterpiece:And a close up:

I served this with peas. The Fourthling was ecstatic as you can see below:
And the gag reflex kicked in:

The boy hates peas.
But feeding them to him is sooooo entertaining.

A Review

2008-01-21T20:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, I know ya'll have been waiting on bated breath for my next recipe review from "Deceptively Delcious". We tried the Sweet Potato Pancakes the other night. See the little beauties below:

These were fantastic! Everyone LOVED these. Even the dog! This will be a regular meal at our house. Here's what you need to make them:
1 C. Water
1/2 C. Sweet Potato Puree
1/4 Tsp. Cinnamon or Pumpkin Pie Spice (I used Cinnamon)
1 C. Pancake Mix (I used Maple Grove Farms organic buckwheat blend)
Pure Maple Syrup

I cut and roasted my sweet potatoes in the oven for about an hour on 400. Then I peeled the skin off and cut into small pieces to fit into my food processor. Then I processed until smooth and creamy.
In a large bowl combine the sweet potatoes, water and cinnamon. Add pancake mix and stir. Using about 1/4 cup of batter for each pancake, pour onto hot griddle. Serve with Pure Maple Syrup and butter.

These are super easy to make and make a great meal for day or night. The halfling even exclaimed, "These are better than Mumu's!" Which is a total compliment because her pancakes are infamous.

I am thinking of making a huge batch of these and freezing them for quick breakfasts. They are so much better than the store bought kind.

And because this post is rather boring and lacking of witty comments...here is a funny picture.

The Art of Dressing a Yuppie Mom.

2008-01-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

toothpastefordinner.com

Lying To Your Kids 101

2008-01-18T18:57:00.000-05:00

I answered the phone just in time before the answering machine picked up. "Hello?" I said breathlessly. "Hey, turn it on Oprah! You need to see this lady that is cooking today." It was my Mom. It was the 8th time she'd called me that day. I told her I'd call her back and had every intention on turning the T.V. on, but was distracted by one of the brats having a tantrum or getting into something they shouldn't have. Good God, what DO they want now?! When I finally pacified the offspring with my favorite discipline tactic, bribing, I sat down on my couch and turned on the last couple of minutes of Oprah. Who was this chick anyway?
It was Jessica Seinfeld. Who is that I wondered? She is married to Jerry Seinfeld. She was talking about her new cookbook "Deceptively Delicious". My immediate thought was why in the hell is she writing a cookbook, aren't they wealthy enough already and who made her an authority on food? I love food, but I've never heard of her. That's my pessimistic side that likes to unveil itself sometimes. Well, ok...alot. At least 5 times a day, but no more than 10.
She was talking about "sneaking" vegetables into your kids (and husbands) food. She was making brownies with spinach and carrot puree. If you've seen my ass lately, you know that I can't turn down a brownie. No matter what is in it. My interest piqued I began to listen more intently.
Now, my oldest (the halfling) will eat just about anything that I put in front of him with prodding over an hour or so. I threaten too. He doesn't dislike vegetables, but enjoys the power struggle. That's the future lawyer in him. And he's an expert bargainer. But, I've seen picky eaters before and I always SWORE I would never have one. My eldest has lived up to my expectations. He's six years old, mind you, so given the choice he'd eat Marshmallow Creme 5 nights a week. But, that is the beauty of being 6. You don't have to worry about weight gain, cholesterol, and daily antioxidant intake.
The Fourthling, the baby, is a completely different story. He's the child I will battle with to eat anything remotely nutritious. The child I swore I'd never have. The picky eater. Ugh. For fun on Friday nights my husband and I sneak vegetables onto his high chair tray and take bets on how long it will take him to discover and discard of a vegetable. My husband distracts him, and I put the game piece into place. Usually within 10 seconds he spots the disgusting piece of nature's candy and throws it off his tray onto the floor. We laugh now, but I can see this being a real problem later on. It won't be so cute and funny when he's 15 and weighs 300 pounds and eats doughnuts and marshmallow creme all day.
So the idea of hiding vegetables in our daily meals seemed like a great idea to me. Being a Mom, I know that I can puree veggies and sneak them into spaghetti sauce and meatloaf, but I never really practiced it. And those spinach and carrot brownies made me hungry. Being that it is a new year, and how un-American would I be if I didn't throttle into 2008 with the fervor of a virgin bride to do a complete overhaul on our eating habits. Plus, I really need to lose that baby weight, even though the "baby" isn't a "baby" anymore. So off I went to Target to purchase the book.
I rounded up the brats and loaded them into the car for our quadruple weekly trip to Super Target.
Now, I can't possibly walk into Target and only get ONE thing. It's a rule that you have to fill your cart up before you can check out. So, being the rule follower that I am...I triumphantly loaded it up with crap I really didn't need. Christmas stuff that was on clearance, goodies from the $1 Spot, a pair of shoes I really needed. Practical stuff like that.
Now, I can actually cook very well...I just don't get off on it like some people do. My Mom LOVES to cook. It's soothing to her. Me? Notsomuch. But, for some reason this cookbook inspired me to recoup my cooking gene and embrace my foodie inner-being that had been hibernating for 30 years.
Now, before I get back to what recipe I made first I have to clear up some minor gossip stuff. I am a celebrity gossip slut. I love the stuff. I get off on it. I can't go a day without reading my celebrity gossip blogs. I am completely up to speed on everyone in Hollywood. It's my only (well, not ONLY) vice. I do not tell just anyone this. It's too embarrassing, and well...silly. Who gives a flying fuck what is going on in Hollywood. So, consider yourself lucky that I divulged this info to you.
Jessica Seinfeld was married to another guy before she met and married Jerry Seinfeld. She "supposedly" went to the gym that Jerry went to in NYC for one reason only. To find a new husband. She timed her daily workouts so that she would be there when Mr. Seinfeld was also working out... and planned to "run into" him on purpose (while she was still married to the other guy). She evidently left the hubby no. 1 a few months later. Then she married Mr. Seinfeld. I guess he was too good to pass up and she had her eyes on the prize.
And then there is the hullabaloo about the plagiarism. Evidently, Mrs. Seinfeld's book is almost identical to a book called "The Sneaky Chef" that was published months before "Deceptively Delicious". Mrs. Seinfeld's book received more attention because she went on Oprah. The author of "The Sneaky Chef" is currently suing the Seinfeld's for defamation of character (they said some not so nice things on late night T.V. and other public forums) and plagiarism. I've read the excerpts that are in question, and I do admit that they sound almost identical. Weird. And then of course the fact that "The Sneaky Chef" submitted her book to Mrs. Seinfeld's publishing house twice, only to be rejected. She later found another publisher.
But, the book is still good and has tons of great recipes. I plan on buying "The Sneaky Chef" in a few weeks for good measure.
My first recipe to try out were the brownies. Here's my personal photo of the little darlings.

You can't even see the spinach and carrot, eh? You can't taste it either!
The halfling ate these up like they were his last meal. Here's how you make 'em.

You need:
Semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate chips (3 Oz.)
1/2 C. Carrot Puree
1/2 C. Spinach Puree
1/2 C. Firmly packed Light Brown Sugar
1/4 C. Unsweetened Cocoa Powder
2 Tbs. Trans Fat Free Margarine
2 Tsp. Pure Vanilla Extract
2 Egg Whites
3/4 C. Oat Flour (or all purpose)
1/2 Tsp. Baking Powder
1/2 Tsp. Salt (Kosher)

First you melt the chocolate in a double boiler. Next, you combine the melted chocolate, purees, sugar, cocoa powder, margarine, and vanilla. Mix well until creamy. Whisk in egg whites, stir in flour, baking powder and salt. Pour into an 8x8 pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray. Bake at 350 for 40 minutes. Cool completely before cutting and eating. Spinach taste doesn't dissipate until the Brownies have cooled.

I thought that these brownies were great. Of course, they are not as good as the unhealthy ones, but decent nonetheless. The next time I make these I plan on using milk chocolate or sweetened cocoa. I felt they needed to be a bit sweeter, but that is my personal choice. I like dark chocolate candy, but in my opinion it has no business being in a brownie. But, I can't pass up a brownie with 3 grams of fiber and that is chocked full of iron, folic acid and lots of antioxidants.
The Fourthling tolerated these brownies, but he thought they needed a topping of Marshmallow Creme. Ah, a child after my own heart.

I'm Hope. Nice to meet you.

2008-01-17T23:20:00.000-05:00

I am married to a cop and have 2 boys. The Halfling is 6 and the Fourthling is 18 months. We live in the suburbs sans the typical mini-van and tennis lessons. I nurture the spawns during the day and my husband works absurdly long hours at night. I like to think of myself as the anti-utopia of motherhood. I hate to clean, would rather gouge my eyes out than cook, and really get annoyed when my kids make too much noise and interrupt what I am doing. I hope to post some little diddly everyday, but I tend to be flaky so I am not making any promises. For the time being and for your viewing pleasure, here is a video of my half-naked toddler and his obnoxious brother playing with swim diapers (before you go off assuming things...yes, they are clean diapers). Thankfully the little brats are sleeping soundly now and I can blog in peace. Dontcha' want like 20 of 'em?!

Bittersweet Utopia

I didn't realize I was alive during the Civil War?

I feel so *stupid*

Farts. Yes, I said it....FARTS.

Oh me oh my.

I'm going to Nursing School!

Admit it, you know you laughed too.

Ninja. I'm feelin' it.

A little Ocean Humor

I have always loved Prairie Dogs.

The Spaz

I can't get this song outta my head, yo.

Hey Ya'll!

Daily Humor

Jew, anyone?

Couscous or Kiki?

Why is it I feel inspiration when I have somewhere to be...in like an hour?

A morning person I am not.

Is it weird that I can identify with Monk?

Bento Organization

Hey, man. I am a deep, philosophical person.

Just cause.

Guten Tag. Ich heisse Hope!

This is my life.

If my dog farts one more time.

Today is Buffy's Birthday.

We've lost the remote again.

I need to clean. I need to clean. I need to clean. Let's write a blog about it!

This video made me pee in my pants. Literally.

The things kids say

Since I am on a roll today.

Yeah, I'm an idiot.

My most embarassing moment. ever.

Today is the day of LOVE!

Mobile Blogging

What is Love -- Diet Pepsi Max Super Bowl Ad

I love my kid. I love my kids. I love my kids.

Look what I got in the mail from Japan today.

I see your schwartz is as big as mine!

If he only knew....

I have a new obsession.

Good for a laugh.

Kick Ass Chicken Recipes v 1.0

A Review

The Art of Dressing a Yuppie Mom.

Lying To Your Kids 101

I'm Hope. Nice to meet you.

I feel so stupid