I love food. I love shopping for it, cooking it, reading about it, thinking about it and eating it. In fact, I love it so much that I kind-of want to marry it and then French kiss it a lot. Oh whoops, did I take that too far? Sorry. Where was I? Food. Yes. Yum.
I don't really know where the food passion/obsession came from, but I do know that my Mom is a fantastic cook, and I always felt like cooking was a big part of my life. (Except in college, when there was not so much cooking and more take-out. Specifically, chicken-cheese-steak subs and deep-dish pizza. Which explains why I look like I do in graduation photos. Thank you, Philly's Best.) For me, a perfect day would include a trip to a food market and an inspirational dinner out, at the least (also included: a lazy morning in with the with kids, a run, a manicure and winning the lottery.) I'll tell you what is NOT included: cooking kids' dinner.
OK, yes, I know I could do one meal for everyone and wouldn't that be more convenient and we could eat as a family and give ourselves time to digest instead of eating at 9pm all while teaching my children to eat real food and blah, blah, blah, please shut up now. But that is never, ever going to happen until the kids can stay up past 7:30 pm without turning into goblins and/or without ruining the precious few hours that husband and I have alone (which we spend in front of the TV, like nature intended.)
So kids' dinner at 5:30 it is, and it is a bitch. It's trying to make something healthy and vegetable-ful without giving them chicken, pasta and peas every single day. Sometimes we vary it up and do broccoli. Or rice if we want to be really crazy. Because M does not like meat (even if you call it chicken, and I am not above lying) and O does not like carrots. M does not like sauces or little bits of green things. O does not like eggs or ketchup. M does not like ham. O loves it. Luckily, both kids like sodium and high fructose corn syrup so baked beans are a win! We finish with yogurt.
Once you make the food, there is the daily battle of getting them to eat it within 45 minutes (M) and without putting it all over the table to see how it feels smeared on wood (O). Anyway, I think you get my point. And if you don't, feel free to come visit. Whoever gets the kids to eat curry gets to keep them.
Next time: Join me as I try to explain to Husband why I've run away to live with a ball of fresh buffalo milk mozzarella and some delicious focaccia.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Happy Mother's Day. Here are some antidepressants.
The builders are here, starting work on the conservatory we are adding to the back of the house. Which means that I will have to go out and buy more tea bags. I know it's a whole English cliche with builders and tea, but seriously, these guys have been through 4 pots since this morning, each cup with about 3 sugars, yet no one has been inside to go to the bathroom. So yeah, fingers crossed for the plants.
Luckily, the music selection is fantastic. I don't know what I was expecting, but so far they seem to be listening to a radio station that focuses on 70's/80's soft rock. We heard "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac, "Hazard" by Richard Marx and something from Genesis. Next up: Simon and Garfunkel. The best part is that they are singing along. (I am not making this up. There is a guy on the deck crooning "Smooth Operator.")
Despite the great tunes, we are looking forward to having it completed. The decking out back is now off-limits, and due to a not-super-smart decision I made about not going to the playground, I'm now trying to keep the kids entertained inside without resorting to television. So far this afternoon, we've played "Eating Kind-Of Junk-y Snacks That Are Labeled Healthy," "Hide the Coin in Your Mouth," and "Throwing the Ball at the TV - 10 Points if You Don't Scratch the Screen."
Speaking of television (Oh sweet, sweet television), apparently it's Mother's Day on Sunday. I found this out while watching a commercial selling DVDs that were suggested as Mother's Day gifts. High on their list: The Lovely Bones. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but isn't this movie about someone's dead child? Because unless you are planning on accompanying that gift with a nice card decorated in Cymbalta, I might think twice about the purchase.
OK, kids have moved on to "Remove the Cushions From the Couch and Jump Until Someone Starts Crying." Better go. Also, I have some errands to run, and I think Father's Day is also coming up soon. I bet Husband will love Dying Young.
Next time: How to speed up the job search process so that I can be back at work before potty training starts and therefore hand that odious task off to someone else.
Luckily, the music selection is fantastic. I don't know what I was expecting, but so far they seem to be listening to a radio station that focuses on 70's/80's soft rock. We heard "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac, "Hazard" by Richard Marx and something from Genesis. Next up: Simon and Garfunkel. The best part is that they are singing along. (I am not making this up. There is a guy on the deck crooning "Smooth Operator.")
Despite the great tunes, we are looking forward to having it completed. The decking out back is now off-limits, and due to a not-super-smart decision I made about not going to the playground, I'm now trying to keep the kids entertained inside without resorting to television. So far this afternoon, we've played "Eating Kind-Of Junk-y Snacks That Are Labeled Healthy," "Hide the Coin in Your Mouth," and "Throwing the Ball at the TV - 10 Points if You Don't Scratch the Screen."
Speaking of television (Oh sweet, sweet television), apparently it's Mother's Day on Sunday. I found this out while watching a commercial selling DVDs that were suggested as Mother's Day gifts. High on their list: The Lovely Bones. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but isn't this movie about someone's dead child? Because unless you are planning on accompanying that gift with a nice card decorated in Cymbalta, I might think twice about the purchase.
OK, kids have moved on to "Remove the Cushions From the Couch and Jump Until Someone Starts Crying." Better go. Also, I have some errands to run, and I think Father's Day is also coming up soon. I bet Husband will love Dying Young.
Next time: How to speed up the job search process so that I can be back at work before potty training starts and therefore hand that odious task off to someone else.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Don't miss this post. It's deep and meaningful.
I'm back. Did you miss me? Wait. Don't answer that.
As I've been lying awake the past couple nights, fighting jet lag, I had some really great ideas for blog posts, so I made sure to jot down a few notes to remind myself of them once I had the chance to start typing things up. The notes read:
"we're back. survival. comfort of journey analogy? returning from family trip. travel experience with kids. bodily functions."
Um, OK. Those notes are not super helpful. Apparently one needs to be a little more descriptive in late-night note-taking (or else get some bigger paper, because the post-it was limiting.) Sorry to say that I now cannot remember a single word of the FABULOUSLY INTERESTING stories I was going to share, nor the DEEP AND MEANINGFUL INSIGHTS I had about our trip. However, I am pretty sure "bodily functions" refers to some sort of poop explosion (courtesy of O) and a taxi barf-fest (thank you, M.) So there you go.
But since we're on the topic of poop (sort-of), I need to ask a serious question.
What is the purpose of swim diapers? Because as far as I can tell those things do not work.
Problem 1: They don't retain liquids. I know this is unavoidable, and frankly, with the super absorbency of today's diapers, there is a serious risk that your child would immediately soak up all the pool water so that everyone else is left flailing in a puddle on the floor tiles while you stand there holding a baby with a bottom the size of Texas. But it's less of an issue than Problem 2.
Problem 2 (and this is truly unfortunate): They don't retain solids either. I mean, in THEORY they hold stuff in, so you are probably making your fellow swimmers feel better about sharing the pool with a small child. But in practice, that stuff dissipates faster than a group of teenagers at a kegger where the cops show up.
(I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to whoever was swimming at the hotel with us on Tuesday morning. Our bad.)
Am I missing something? Is there some sort of button I didn't fasten? Should I be using duct tape in conjunction with it? I just don't get it.
Overall, we had a really great time in New Orleans, and I'm sure I will remember more details as I get a few more posts up. Apparently there was some crazy lady in her pajamas in the lobby the first night, shouting at the manager to hurry up and get room service to deliver the warm milk we ordered 40 minutes ago because her kid was freaking out and if it doesn't show up soon she is going to SEND HIM DOWN TO THE FRONT DESK TO SLEEP WITH YOU. God. People are so unreasonable.
In other news, M took a close look at my teeth last night (as I was helping her brush hers) and said, "Mummy, your teeth sure are yellow." I thanked her and told her not to worry because I had a nice big glass of wine downstairs that would probably turn them purple instead. Kids are such gems.
As I've been lying awake the past couple nights, fighting jet lag, I had some really great ideas for blog posts, so I made sure to jot down a few notes to remind myself of them once I had the chance to start typing things up. The notes read:
"we're back. survival. comfort of journey analogy? returning from family trip. travel experience with kids. bodily functions."
Um, OK. Those notes are not super helpful. Apparently one needs to be a little more descriptive in late-night note-taking (or else get some bigger paper, because the post-it was limiting.) Sorry to say that I now cannot remember a single word of the FABULOUSLY INTERESTING stories I was going to share, nor the DEEP AND MEANINGFUL INSIGHTS I had about our trip. However, I am pretty sure "bodily functions" refers to some sort of poop explosion (courtesy of O) and a taxi barf-fest (thank you, M.) So there you go.
But since we're on the topic of poop (sort-of), I need to ask a serious question.
What is the purpose of swim diapers? Because as far as I can tell those things do not work.
Problem 1: They don't retain liquids. I know this is unavoidable, and frankly, with the super absorbency of today's diapers, there is a serious risk that your child would immediately soak up all the pool water so that everyone else is left flailing in a puddle on the floor tiles while you stand there holding a baby with a bottom the size of Texas. But it's less of an issue than Problem 2.
Problem 2 (and this is truly unfortunate): They don't retain solids either. I mean, in THEORY they hold stuff in, so you are probably making your fellow swimmers feel better about sharing the pool with a small child. But in practice, that stuff dissipates faster than a group of teenagers at a kegger where the cops show up.
(I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to whoever was swimming at the hotel with us on Tuesday morning. Our bad.)
Am I missing something? Is there some sort of button I didn't fasten? Should I be using duct tape in conjunction with it? I just don't get it.
Overall, we had a really great time in New Orleans, and I'm sure I will remember more details as I get a few more posts up. Apparently there was some crazy lady in her pajamas in the lobby the first night, shouting at the manager to hurry up and get room service to deliver the warm milk we ordered 40 minutes ago because her kid was freaking out and if it doesn't show up soon she is going to SEND HIM DOWN TO THE FRONT DESK TO SLEEP WITH YOU. God. People are so unreasonable.
In other news, M took a close look at my teeth last night (as I was helping her brush hers) and said, "Mummy, your teeth sure are yellow." I thanked her and told her not to worry because I had a nice big glass of wine downstairs that would probably turn them purple instead. Kids are such gems.
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