Here's a question? Why do I encourage my children to help out? We all know that it takes three times the amount of time to put the laundry away when you have to keep saying, "Put this in the sock drawer", "Put this in the underwear drawer", "Put this in the pants drawer, but not on top of the shorts, on the side where the rest of your pants are." And the clothes always get unfolded to boot!
In fact, I'm not sure why I even try cleaning at all (many of you may even assume that I don't clean if you happen to arrive at my house unannounced mid-week. Liam likes to help with the coffee tables so I on the rare occasions that I am actually able to clear off the table from all of the books, puzzles, socks, (my) schoolwork, mail, etc... I let him clean it off. He uses the (Simply Green) spray bottle to lather up the glass (mind you, this coffee table was bought before having kids- thus the glass insert). Then he uses a single piece of paper towel to soak it all up. Even Brawny isn't that absorbent. So he mops it all up, while splashing onto the carpet and surrounding furniture and then decides to do a second coat. Miraculously the stains tend to survive although very little Simply Green window cleaner is left in the bottle after a cleaning session.
Tonight Joshua decided to help me cooking. Which is very nice because I have very poor time management skills in the kitchen and could use a little back-up support. Unfortunately Josh decided to help out with matters relating to the oven. The oven was turned onto 400 degrees to roast tomatoes for a home-made sauce (can't help but brag- I made a home-made sauce with fresh tomatoes from scratch- unfortunately the allotted 1 1/2 hours was insufficient and at 7 pm I realized that I had forgotten to make the pasta or a meat). I looked behind me as I was chopping up the onions and saw that Joshua had on an oven mitt and was saying "hot hot hot hot..." and I thought that was awfully cute. I went back to chopping onions, got one of those strange motherly instincts, turned around and saw that Joshua was opening up the oven. It only opened up a crack but please do imagine my freak-out. In response, Joshua said "But I was using the hand with the oven mitt!" No, just kidding. Really, he's only 18 months old so in response he screamed and cried very loudly and refused to forgive me for saving his life for the next 30 minutes.
I really should learn my lesson one of these days. After all, two little helpers and my big bad idea was what broke our vacuum cleaner (picture Liam vacuuming while Joshua sat on the canister; which was all sorts of fun until Liam had to pull the vacuum forward. This sounds very mischievous, doesn't it? Until I mention that this was my idea for a game to engage my two helpers. So it was all my fault).
But I do think children helping is a rather good idea in theory. Since they were able to sit up, I've had them help put things away. Joshua throws his own binky into the crib or his bottle into the crib. I admit I've even had him throw away his own diapers before! Liam enjoys using the hose to water our plants in the front yard. And sometimes he even hits the plants with the water rather than flooding the driveway. And when all else fails and simple jobs take me three times as long, I always just remind myself about how appreciative Liam and Josh's future wives will be that I instilled some cleaning skills in my boys.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Didn't Expect Quite Such A Storybook Ending
A mother should be able to read a book to her child without instilling poor morals and violence, don't you think? Than why is it that so many books are just brimming immorality and guns? Not that the two go together, I'm just saying I don't want either in a book I'm reading to my 4 year old.
I brought home an old classic. Babar. Sweet, intelligent, dapper elephant. But he wasn't always that way. First he had to watch a hunter murder his mother. Is this something I was expecting at the beginning of a Babar book? Clearly not. But there it was, a full page colored picture of a hunter in a token safari hat with a gun and a dead elephant mommy. Liam can't read but it was pretty obvious and hard to rush over. Of course, Babar's life isn't so bad. After the death of his mother, he goes into the city, buys a suit and gets adopted by a rich lady and he later becomes King (because he's dressed and therefore more civilized than his jungle peers).
Percillus the Pig is far from a well known classic but I also attempted to read this book to Liam one night at bedtime. I hardly expected that Percillus- who had snuck out at night to work as a nightwatchman to get rid of ugly bumps on his back (instead of resting up for school the next day) would get held up by an aptly named "Al Porcone" with a revolver (I only know it's a revolver because it said "revolver" in the book- the children's picture book). They held him captive, threatened to kill his sister. It's okay though because luckily those bumps on Percillus' back were wings and so he magically learned to fly and he rescued himself and his sister and found a way to implicate the bad guys in the crime.
My husband loves to read Mr. Wolf's Pancakes. This is one of those fractured fairy tales- much like The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs. There's a kindly wolf who plays the mother hen roll of wanting to make pancakes. He needs help reading but no one will help him. He needs certain ingredients but no one will give them to him. Not only that, the villagers (a gingerbread, Chicken Little herself, Wee Willy Winkle, etc...) all are quite rude to him. In the end the pancakes are made, there is knocking at the door and all of the villagers are ready to come over and eat Mr. Wolf's pancakes. So he does what any other fairy tale wolf would do. He eats all of the villagers. Now I can see eating a gingerbread man but Goldilocks too? It's just wrong. Maybe Goldilocks isn't the most moral but does she really deserve to be eaten? And what does this say of the sin of gluttony (a stack of pancakes, 3 pigs, a chicken, Goldilocks, Little Red Riding Hood and a gingerbread for dessert)?
The violence and lack of morals don't end here. Countless books depict dead parents, horrific crimes, graphic guns and nasty teachers like Mrs. Gorp in Sideways Stories of a Wayside School (that's the other thing, I take that a little personally too). It doesn't stop at books. Ever stop to judge Timmy Turner's parents in "Fairly Oddparents"?
So maybe this is all just a great opportunity for parent and child to discuss morality and better choices. Maybe it's a good time to open up a discussion of dangerous fire arms. But at bedtime? For the time being, it may be best to simply not assume that a classic implies good characters and judgement. Because anyone who has read the original Grimm Brothers fairy tales may still be traumatized from the scene where one of Cinderella's wicked step sisters cuts off her big toe to fit into the glass slipper.
I brought home an old classic. Babar. Sweet, intelligent, dapper elephant. But he wasn't always that way. First he had to watch a hunter murder his mother. Is this something I was expecting at the beginning of a Babar book? Clearly not. But there it was, a full page colored picture of a hunter in a token safari hat with a gun and a dead elephant mommy. Liam can't read but it was pretty obvious and hard to rush over. Of course, Babar's life isn't so bad. After the death of his mother, he goes into the city, buys a suit and gets adopted by a rich lady and he later becomes King (because he's dressed and therefore more civilized than his jungle peers).
Percillus the Pig is far from a well known classic but I also attempted to read this book to Liam one night at bedtime. I hardly expected that Percillus- who had snuck out at night to work as a nightwatchman to get rid of ugly bumps on his back (instead of resting up for school the next day) would get held up by an aptly named "Al Porcone" with a revolver (I only know it's a revolver because it said "revolver" in the book- the children's picture book). They held him captive, threatened to kill his sister. It's okay though because luckily those bumps on Percillus' back were wings and so he magically learned to fly and he rescued himself and his sister and found a way to implicate the bad guys in the crime.
My husband loves to read Mr. Wolf's Pancakes. This is one of those fractured fairy tales- much like The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs. There's a kindly wolf who plays the mother hen roll of wanting to make pancakes. He needs help reading but no one will help him. He needs certain ingredients but no one will give them to him. Not only that, the villagers (a gingerbread, Chicken Little herself, Wee Willy Winkle, etc...) all are quite rude to him. In the end the pancakes are made, there is knocking at the door and all of the villagers are ready to come over and eat Mr. Wolf's pancakes. So he does what any other fairy tale wolf would do. He eats all of the villagers. Now I can see eating a gingerbread man but Goldilocks too? It's just wrong. Maybe Goldilocks isn't the most moral but does she really deserve to be eaten? And what does this say of the sin of gluttony (a stack of pancakes, 3 pigs, a chicken, Goldilocks, Little Red Riding Hood and a gingerbread for dessert)?
The violence and lack of morals don't end here. Countless books depict dead parents, horrific crimes, graphic guns and nasty teachers like Mrs. Gorp in Sideways Stories of a Wayside School (that's the other thing, I take that a little personally too). It doesn't stop at books. Ever stop to judge Timmy Turner's parents in "Fairly Oddparents"?
So maybe this is all just a great opportunity for parent and child to discuss morality and better choices. Maybe it's a good time to open up a discussion of dangerous fire arms. But at bedtime? For the time being, it may be best to simply not assume that a classic implies good characters and judgement. Because anyone who has read the original Grimm Brothers fairy tales may still be traumatized from the scene where one of Cinderella's wicked step sisters cuts off her big toe to fit into the glass slipper.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Took A Nap While Hiding In A Crib
It all started this afternoon when Joshua and I played a 30 minute game of "Where's the Duck?" We hid a little rubber duckie under one of ten stacking blocks and then took turns looking for the duck. Most of the time when Joshua was hiding the duckie, I cheated by peeking through my fingers. I just couldn't resist watching him try to figure out why one box would fit over the duckie and another smaller box wouldn't. Inevitably once he hid the duckie, I could easily find it under... the same box it was previously hidden in. This seems to be an unwritten rule of playing hide and go seek with a baby. They tend to use the same hiding spot over and over.
I learned this while playing hide and go seek with Liam a couple of years ago for the first time. We took turns hiding and most times when it was his turn, he just hid in the same spot he had found me in. But that probably wasn't what made him so easy to find. Liam continues to be an easy find because he can't stop giggling. You know how when you are playing hide and go seek, you're supposed to be sooo quiet? Even when the seeker is close-by, you can often get away with your hiding spot just by staying still and holding your breath. Not Liam. He has yet to learn this stealthy strategy. Instead he lets out with loud chuckles as though he's being tickled by an imaginary octopus. It also doesn't help that as soon as I say "Ready or not, here I come!" Liam will shout out, "Mommy, come find me!" or "I'm in the bathroom!" This tends to take away from the mystery.
Tonight after the success of our hide-the-duckie game with Joshua, Liam and I decided to have a real hide and go seek game. We took turns with Liam & I hiding. We tried to give Joshua a turn hiding but when Liam & I closed our eyes Joshua rolled over giggling instead of hiding. Liam had a good spot in the closet but Joshua had peeked so he found him right away. I almost tricked Liam by hiding between the shower curtains but my feet gave me away. My hiding spot in Joshua's crib kept me hidden the longest. With the crib bumpers and Joshy's blanket keeping me hidden, I stayed silent when a giggling Joshua and his brother Liam came into the room. "Mommy, where are you?" Liam asked (actually expecting an answer). After a couple of minutes, I could actually hear a little panic in his voice (not in Joshua's he just started playing with his duckie again) so I pressed Joshua's Glo-Worm's belly. Even with the lullabies, Liam still couldn't find me in the crib... until he got very close and saw the blanket breathing. I knew he found me because he started the uncontrollable giggles again. Isn't it a hilarious sight to see a mommy in a crib? Even Joshua came in for a look.
And speaking of blankets- what is it about blankets that speak insta-hiding-spot for kids under the age of 5? Often times in hide-and-go-seek games, I've found Liam lying right in the middle of the floor, but under a blanket. A blanket can be used to stealthily hide in a corner or even in a laundry basket. But the second that blanket starts to giggle, I'm pretty sure I've found my hider.
Liam's hiding skills may need work but really, Joshua is the worst hider ever. Liam and I both know that hiding with Joshua means you will get found in less than 10 seconds. It doesn't help that he's usually squirming to leave the hiding spot, giggling or poking his head out. And that's how we ended our last round of tonight's homework. Behind the rocker with Joshua squirming, poking his head out and giggling as we were found in one foul swoop by Liam.
I learned this while playing hide and go seek with Liam a couple of years ago for the first time. We took turns hiding and most times when it was his turn, he just hid in the same spot he had found me in. But that probably wasn't what made him so easy to find. Liam continues to be an easy find because he can't stop giggling. You know how when you are playing hide and go seek, you're supposed to be sooo quiet? Even when the seeker is close-by, you can often get away with your hiding spot just by staying still and holding your breath. Not Liam. He has yet to learn this stealthy strategy. Instead he lets out with loud chuckles as though he's being tickled by an imaginary octopus. It also doesn't help that as soon as I say "Ready or not, here I come!" Liam will shout out, "Mommy, come find me!" or "I'm in the bathroom!" This tends to take away from the mystery.
Tonight after the success of our hide-the-duckie game with Joshua, Liam and I decided to have a real hide and go seek game. We took turns with Liam & I hiding. We tried to give Joshua a turn hiding but when Liam & I closed our eyes Joshua rolled over giggling instead of hiding. Liam had a good spot in the closet but Joshua had peeked so he found him right away. I almost tricked Liam by hiding between the shower curtains but my feet gave me away. My hiding spot in Joshua's crib kept me hidden the longest. With the crib bumpers and Joshy's blanket keeping me hidden, I stayed silent when a giggling Joshua and his brother Liam came into the room. "Mommy, where are you?" Liam asked (actually expecting an answer). After a couple of minutes, I could actually hear a little panic in his voice (not in Joshua's he just started playing with his duckie again) so I pressed Joshua's Glo-Worm's belly. Even with the lullabies, Liam still couldn't find me in the crib... until he got very close and saw the blanket breathing. I knew he found me because he started the uncontrollable giggles again. Isn't it a hilarious sight to see a mommy in a crib? Even Joshua came in for a look.
And speaking of blankets- what is it about blankets that speak insta-hiding-spot for kids under the age of 5? Often times in hide-and-go-seek games, I've found Liam lying right in the middle of the floor, but under a blanket. A blanket can be used to stealthily hide in a corner or even in a laundry basket. But the second that blanket starts to giggle, I'm pretty sure I've found my hider.
Liam's hiding skills may need work but really, Joshua is the worst hider ever. Liam and I both know that hiding with Joshua means you will get found in less than 10 seconds. It doesn't help that he's usually squirming to leave the hiding spot, giggling or poking his head out. And that's how we ended our last round of tonight's homework. Behind the rocker with Joshua squirming, poking his head out and giggling as we were found in one foul swoop by Liam.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Is Taking Pictures for Her Next Photobook!
I haven't printed a picture in years (unless I'm sending them to my grandmother). Instead each year I compile all of our photos for the year onto Shutterfly and design a photo book. It's a creative project to some extent but it doesn't look anything like those pimped-out scrapbooks that my kids' babysitter makes for them each year (she has a love for feathery labels on each page). In fact, after 4 years with his babysitter, Liam has about 3 books full of these pages, which is a neat perk. There are pages for each holiday, season and sometimes the more artistic pages like "Bottoms Up". Liam and Josh will just have to live with the fact that their babysitter may have been more creative and artistic with each of their scrapbooks than their mom was with my annual photo book!
The 2009 book is still awaiting purchase on my Shutterfly account and as I wait for the first few teacher paychecks to sink into the account, I begin to realize that the pictures I'm taking right now look an awful lot like the pictures I took a year ago and that those look a bit like the pics taken the year before that (minus Joshy) and so on. And so I said to Bill, "Gee, we just seem to take the same pictures each and every year." And so it is that if you look through the photo books from 2007, 2008, 2009 and (coming-not-so-soon because I won't even start it until January) 2010; the settings just remain the same. You could technically look on page 28 of each of the books and find that we are, say, picking Easter eggs. Or on page 72 picking out our yearly pumpkins. We do tend to set into certain habits, like picking apples every year at the same place (due to their inordinately tasty apple cider donuts). And the summer barbecue pictures do tend to blur together with the mangy looking kids in the sandbox, the grill filled with meat, corn & more meat, and the men tossing a baseball back and forth.
I think in about 15 years I'll remake all of our photo books but instead of making them organized by year, I'll go by event/activity. Because that's where the real change has been. It started out with fewer children in the pictures-but somehow we still looked frazzled. Then the children began to take over until now there are 6 cousins each running in different directions. The faces have changed as Liam has lost his pudgy cheeks and Joshua has (thankfully) grown some more hair. Sometimes I accidentally on purpose dress Josh in a hand-me-down from Liam and have him wear to the same event- just for kicks- only 3 years later. Once all the event-based books were made, they could be used as flip books like the Bazooka Joe or Captain Underpants books! It would be like watching the kids grow up all over again.
Looking through our old photo books (they're Josh's new favorite books) I also see how few pictures we've been taking of "the place" we're at. A picture is not apparently complete without a smiling kid. There are few pictures of Bill or I without kids. Even a picture of a shark needs to have someone's nose pressed up against the glass in front of it. Really, a shark doesn't get his own picture?
Videos are no different. We watched a video of Liam dancing the other day and asked ourselves- didn't we just make a similar video of Josh dancing last week?
I think next year when I take pictures, I'll take really bizarre pictures. I'm going to look for things we haven't done before. But then again, we all really do look forward to our annual trips to: the corn maze in the fall, camping with all of our friends in the summer and day trips to the local museums. So maybe we should skip the picture of Liam pointing in awe at the mastodon skeleton and instead take a picture of- just the mastodon skeleton? But then our book really would never change- he's certainly not going anywhere. Maybe it's time to teach Liam & Josh some funny faces... just to spice our 2011 photo book up a bit.
The 2009 book is still awaiting purchase on my Shutterfly account and as I wait for the first few teacher paychecks to sink into the account, I begin to realize that the pictures I'm taking right now look an awful lot like the pictures I took a year ago and that those look a bit like the pics taken the year before that (minus Joshy) and so on. And so I said to Bill, "Gee, we just seem to take the same pictures each and every year." And so it is that if you look through the photo books from 2007, 2008, 2009 and (coming-not-so-soon because I won't even start it until January) 2010; the settings just remain the same. You could technically look on page 28 of each of the books and find that we are, say, picking Easter eggs. Or on page 72 picking out our yearly pumpkins. We do tend to set into certain habits, like picking apples every year at the same place (due to their inordinately tasty apple cider donuts). And the summer barbecue pictures do tend to blur together with the mangy looking kids in the sandbox, the grill filled with meat, corn & more meat, and the men tossing a baseball back and forth.
I think in about 15 years I'll remake all of our photo books but instead of making them organized by year, I'll go by event/activity. Because that's where the real change has been. It started out with fewer children in the pictures-but somehow we still looked frazzled. Then the children began to take over until now there are 6 cousins each running in different directions. The faces have changed as Liam has lost his pudgy cheeks and Joshua has (thankfully) grown some more hair. Sometimes I accidentally on purpose dress Josh in a hand-me-down from Liam and have him wear to the same event- just for kicks- only 3 years later. Once all the event-based books were made, they could be used as flip books like the Bazooka Joe or Captain Underpants books! It would be like watching the kids grow up all over again.
Looking through our old photo books (they're Josh's new favorite books) I also see how few pictures we've been taking of "the place" we're at. A picture is not apparently complete without a smiling kid. There are few pictures of Bill or I without kids. Even a picture of a shark needs to have someone's nose pressed up against the glass in front of it. Really, a shark doesn't get his own picture?
Videos are no different. We watched a video of Liam dancing the other day and asked ourselves- didn't we just make a similar video of Josh dancing last week?
I think next year when I take pictures, I'll take really bizarre pictures. I'm going to look for things we haven't done before. But then again, we all really do look forward to our annual trips to: the corn maze in the fall, camping with all of our friends in the summer and day trips to the local museums. So maybe we should skip the picture of Liam pointing in awe at the mastodon skeleton and instead take a picture of- just the mastodon skeleton? But then our book really would never change- he's certainly not going anywhere. Maybe it's time to teach Liam & Josh some funny faces... just to spice our 2011 photo book up a bit.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Had a Sick Day
The entire family woke up this morning with a general feeling of ickiness. I tried to open my eyes at 6 am but seriously they were sealed shut (I now will never complain about runny noses again since this cold apparently has decided to hang out... in my eyes). Joshua woke up with his eyes glued shut and a diaper-splosion. I'll define diaper-splosion as a diaper that is so disgustingly full that it just gives up on its job and instead of having a diaper, your baby is covered in icky gel-like goo pebbles. Normally we don't experience diaper-splosions except when we forget to take Liam's pull ups out of his pj pants and they end up in the washing machine. But this was a seriously bad diaper-sposion because it involved all sorts of ickiness in the diaper... well maybe this is just getting too gross. And for those of you who may be judging because we didn't wake up to help Joshy in his sleep- for the record- we were both sick and Josh has been sleeping through the night for well over a year now so (a) if he did wake up, he only must have whimpered and (b) we may have possibly probably slept through this whimpering. At any rate, after Josh's diaper-splosion I decided he needed an immediate bath. Bill didn't wake up until a bit later, very hazy but at least his eyes weren't glued shut like mine were. Liam decided to join in on the fun by saying he also had a sore throat. So Liam, Josh and I had a sick day. I admit that I didn't personally feel too bad today but once I realized I was going to have to wear my glasses (which I got in high school) to my place of work, I made the final decision to stay home with the kids.
Well it turns out that Joshua does have strep throat. And the doctor was grossed out by our eye mucus! I'm glad I followed my mommy instincts. I tend to second guess them. I tend not to be the one to stay home when my kid wakes up with a sniffle or a cough. I'm usually not too sympathetic towards illness... unless there's puke involved. I also hardly put up with my own illnesses. In fact, the urban legend that I didn't even call in sick the day Liam was born until 12 am (he was born just before 7 am) is completely true. Just this summer I ignored Liam when he told me that his stomach hurt (because swimming lessons cost $68 and I really didn't want that money to go to waste) and drove him 7/8ths of the way to swimming lessons only to have to turn around in a commuter parking lot when he puked up blueberry yogurt into the backseat. It really did serve me right that I had to clean that up with a few stray tissues from the glove box.
Actually sick time in our house is not too bad. I admit to loving how cuddly Liam gets when he is sick. Joshua is somewhat of a bear when he's sick but you just have to feel bad for this fun-loving guy who hates tissues.
I will be heading back to work tomorrow and Liam will be going back to preschool. Joshua is staying home with my mother in law in the morning and Bill in the afternoon. Unfortunately, I think I'll probably have to wear these horrible glasses to work tomorrow, which makes me kind of wish I had tested positive for strep too.
Well it turns out that Joshua does have strep throat. And the doctor was grossed out by our eye mucus! I'm glad I followed my mommy instincts. I tend to second guess them. I tend not to be the one to stay home when my kid wakes up with a sniffle or a cough. I'm usually not too sympathetic towards illness... unless there's puke involved. I also hardly put up with my own illnesses. In fact, the urban legend that I didn't even call in sick the day Liam was born until 12 am (he was born just before 7 am) is completely true. Just this summer I ignored Liam when he told me that his stomach hurt (because swimming lessons cost $68 and I really didn't want that money to go to waste) and drove him 7/8ths of the way to swimming lessons only to have to turn around in a commuter parking lot when he puked up blueberry yogurt into the backseat. It really did serve me right that I had to clean that up with a few stray tissues from the glove box.
Actually sick time in our house is not too bad. I admit to loving how cuddly Liam gets when he is sick. Joshua is somewhat of a bear when he's sick but you just have to feel bad for this fun-loving guy who hates tissues.
I will be heading back to work tomorrow and Liam will be going back to preschool. Joshua is staying home with my mother in law in the morning and Bill in the afternoon. Unfortunately, I think I'll probably have to wear these horrible glasses to work tomorrow, which makes me kind of wish I had tested positive for strep too.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Is The Worst Cook Ever
This is me cooking: It begins with a vision, like my New Year's dinner. Something to feature apples. How about a Chicken Kiev with potato latkes and applesauce? It sounded perfectly fine. And besides, the night before I had successfully baked banana chocolate biscotti for the reception at our temple AND had made english muffin pizzas with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella (and had vacuumed the house and played with the children all while Bill was bowling). So clearly, I had this cooking thing under control. Granted, the kitchen was still kind of messy from the night before with flour caked onto the countertops but whatever. I could handle dinner tonight.
So this vision was rather ideal and I could actually visualize the family enjoying their meal. But clearly I would need support so I did look through my cookbooks. My cookbook pages are covered in oil stains and all have some type of white powder stuck in their bindings. Many pages are wrinkled or even ripped. This is not from heavy use but from sloppy cooking with no regard to the fact that there's a book sitting on the counter. So my cooking progressed from this ideal stage into general mayhem. First, I realized that I was supposed to soften the butter, mix it with the herbs and then freeze it. I skipped this stage just by using frozen butter and sprinkling the herbs around the butter. Whatever- it was already 6:20 (dinner at 7pm). Once the chicken was prepared, I mindfully covered it with tinfoil and put it in the oven. Then I started to make the latkes which I've never actually made by myself from scratch before (and only once with someone else). I started with the actual grater but then switched to the food processor. I halved the recipe but it didn't seem quite right so I threw in an extra egg. Plus I got lazy when it was time to drain the grated potatoes (because the strainer was still dirty from the day before) so there was too much water in the mixture to begin with. I made the applesauce from scratch too. Unfortunately it didn't occur to me that I should probably peel the apples (since Bill had picked them off of trees at a local orchard/golf course and brought them home in his golf bag) until after I had put them into the hot water... so I had to remove them and then peel cut up apples. At this time, I removed the tinfoil off of the chicken and kept it in the oven on warm. Stupid mistake. Meanwhile the latkes were looking like hash browns in the frying pan.
Dinner was served about a half an hour late (7:30) and throughout dinner, Bill and I had to keep getting up to flip the latkes. Neither child liked the latkes (even when we tried to pass them off as just hash browns). The chicken didn't turn out right either. I'm pretty sure when you eat chicken, your teeth shouldn't stick together. The applesauce was delicious. So clearly I am only cut out to make baby food, which is only slightly reassuring.
Seriously, I've burned each of the following countless times: macaroni, rice, butter, miscellaneous noodles and more! I'm pretty sure I've identified my problems as a cook. (1) Lack of skill (2) Lack of planning (3) Inability to follow directions. I think those sum it up just about right. Now I can cook some things very well, I just need to be able to throw in all of the tried-true-and-tested ingredients (ex: a fresh salsa with tomatoes, garlic, onions & chives) or use a mix (ex: brownies). Also (4) Kiddie helpers. Okay, so this isn't really an excuse but here's why I'm listing them. Sometimes they get me a little distracted so I, for example, forget to de-seed a zucchini before mashing it into the bread batter. Other times they mix a little too fervently. And many times after the baked goods are put into the oven or on the stovetop, we just forget that we spent all that time cooking and (oops) overcook whatever it was we were trying so hard to make!
It may just be best for me to step back and make tacos for dinner tonight. If Bill takes care of the meat, I'm pretty sure I can cut up the veggies successfully. And we could have my fresh salsa with them too... But hopefully I won't burn the taco shells again.
So this vision was rather ideal and I could actually visualize the family enjoying their meal. But clearly I would need support so I did look through my cookbooks. My cookbook pages are covered in oil stains and all have some type of white powder stuck in their bindings. Many pages are wrinkled or even ripped. This is not from heavy use but from sloppy cooking with no regard to the fact that there's a book sitting on the counter. So my cooking progressed from this ideal stage into general mayhem. First, I realized that I was supposed to soften the butter, mix it with the herbs and then freeze it. I skipped this stage just by using frozen butter and sprinkling the herbs around the butter. Whatever- it was already 6:20 (dinner at 7pm). Once the chicken was prepared, I mindfully covered it with tinfoil and put it in the oven. Then I started to make the latkes which I've never actually made by myself from scratch before (and only once with someone else). I started with the actual grater but then switched to the food processor. I halved the recipe but it didn't seem quite right so I threw in an extra egg. Plus I got lazy when it was time to drain the grated potatoes (because the strainer was still dirty from the day before) so there was too much water in the mixture to begin with. I made the applesauce from scratch too. Unfortunately it didn't occur to me that I should probably peel the apples (since Bill had picked them off of trees at a local orchard/golf course and brought them home in his golf bag) until after I had put them into the hot water... so I had to remove them and then peel cut up apples. At this time, I removed the tinfoil off of the chicken and kept it in the oven on warm. Stupid mistake. Meanwhile the latkes were looking like hash browns in the frying pan.
Dinner was served about a half an hour late (7:30) and throughout dinner, Bill and I had to keep getting up to flip the latkes. Neither child liked the latkes (even when we tried to pass them off as just hash browns). The chicken didn't turn out right either. I'm pretty sure when you eat chicken, your teeth shouldn't stick together. The applesauce was delicious. So clearly I am only cut out to make baby food, which is only slightly reassuring.
Seriously, I've burned each of the following countless times: macaroni, rice, butter, miscellaneous noodles and more! I'm pretty sure I've identified my problems as a cook. (1) Lack of skill (2) Lack of planning (3) Inability to follow directions. I think those sum it up just about right. Now I can cook some things very well, I just need to be able to throw in all of the tried-true-and-tested ingredients (ex: a fresh salsa with tomatoes, garlic, onions & chives) or use a mix (ex: brownies). Also (4) Kiddie helpers. Okay, so this isn't really an excuse but here's why I'm listing them. Sometimes they get me a little distracted so I, for example, forget to de-seed a zucchini before mashing it into the bread batter. Other times they mix a little too fervently. And many times after the baked goods are put into the oven or on the stovetop, we just forget that we spent all that time cooking and (oops) overcook whatever it was we were trying so hard to make!
It may just be best for me to step back and make tacos for dinner tonight. If Bill takes care of the meat, I'm pretty sure I can cut up the veggies successfully. And we could have my fresh salsa with them too... But hopefully I won't burn the taco shells again.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Was a Stress Bug
Before I had kids, I was a teacher first. Above all else, I taught and therefore I was "a teacher". If asked, I didn't say "a girlfriend/wife", "a friend", "a daughter", "a sister" or even "a reader" or "a writer". I woke up in the morning happy to teach my kids (okay, that's a complete exaggeration, I've never been a morning person). I often stayed at work well past 3:15 dismissal until 5:30 or 6:00. I would go home and help cook dinner, watch Wheel of Fortune (while grading papers) and chat with my husband (while grading papers). Most nights I stayed up until about 10:00 grading papers, planning or making materials. I took my job so personally that if someone in a social situation dared to suggest that a teacher had the summers off and was done with work at 3:15 my boyfriend (now husband) would try to defend the job before I would blow my lid. Eventually, he learned just to run away before hearing the same onslaught of stress and work listed to our misinformed "friend". On Friday nights we would go out to our favorite bar for trivia and wings where my trivia name was "STRSBG". This stood for "Stress Bug". Great name for a 22 year old at a bar, right?
These years as a stressed out new-bee teacher certainly served me well. I use a lot of the materials I created back in the day. I rely on my core philosophies established over the years. But when I had kids, my whole teacherly-life was shattered. I mean, I still devote myself to the students and our work in the classroom but... I'm no longer a teacher first. When Liam was born my whole life shifted. Without a doubt, I was now "a mom" first. But it wasn't just that. Suddenly, because of the partnership we had established with parenthood, I was really "a wife" more than ever. And somehow this made me feel all the more human. I was no longer defined by my job. I was defined by my family. Of course, "a teacher" still made the short list in defining me as a human but somehow it was reassuring to know it wasn't on the top 3 anymore.
And so as we start the next school year, this is my challenge. To keep up all of these things that make me human- like taking my kids out a little past their bedtime to get ice cream (oops) and like playing with Legos instead of grading papers, planning or making materials at the kitchen table. So maybe building a tower only to have it knocked over isn't the most productive endeavor. But really, hearing Joshua laugh at his destruction... that just makes my day.
These years as a stressed out new-bee teacher certainly served me well. I use a lot of the materials I created back in the day. I rely on my core philosophies established over the years. But when I had kids, my whole teacherly-life was shattered. I mean, I still devote myself to the students and our work in the classroom but... I'm no longer a teacher first. When Liam was born my whole life shifted. Without a doubt, I was now "a mom" first. But it wasn't just that. Suddenly, because of the partnership we had established with parenthood, I was really "a wife" more than ever. And somehow this made me feel all the more human. I was no longer defined by my job. I was defined by my family. Of course, "a teacher" still made the short list in defining me as a human but somehow it was reassuring to know it wasn't on the top 3 anymore.
And so as we start the next school year, this is my challenge. To keep up all of these things that make me human- like taking my kids out a little past their bedtime to get ice cream (oops) and like playing with Legos instead of grading papers, planning or making materials at the kitchen table. So maybe building a tower only to have it knocked over isn't the most productive endeavor. But really, hearing Joshua laugh at his destruction... that just makes my day.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Is Thankful For Her Poopy Diaper Partner
Let me define "Teamwork" to everyone. Teamwork is when you have to change a poopy diaper in the car. This requires its own unique set of skills and technique in and of itself. You have to strategically apply copious amounts of wipes, for example. And it requires that you neatly bundle up the icky diaper and then quickly reapply the new diaper (or else). So this all is a very tricky situation, as you can imagine. Unless you have kids, you've probably never seen an in-car diaper change because they tend to happen very quickly to avoid "issues". And on that note, those of you without kids probably are thinking that an in-car diaper change couldn't possibly be warranted and that there are certainly ways to avoid changing a diaper in the car. However, there is often no better option than to just change that diaper in the car, trust me. And really, isn't the car a little bit cleaner anyway than those changing tables in public restrooms? Don't get me started on those.
Okay, so back to teamwork. Teamwork truly is the moment when you realize that the bundled up icky diaper you've stuck on the roof of the car is miraculously... gone. That your other half (the mommy or the daddy) has just without being nagged or harangued (is that really a word?) or badgered (I'm pretty sure these are all just synonyms but they sound fun in sequence) he/she has swooped that diaper away and found a public garbage can to toss it into. Sigh. That was nice. See the other half of the in-car diaper change is that you have this baby in tow- and many of us also have other kids too- so getting to the closest garbage can isn't really all that easy if we're single or flying solo that day.
So teamwork is of vital significance. Without teamwork you end up doing crazy maneuvers like vacuuming with an infant (or worse, a toddler) in the Baby Bjorn carrier. You end up having to rush back and forth between pushing one child on the swing while catching the other one at the bottom of the slide. You end up trying to rationally ask your 4 year old to essentially "play fetch" (go get the diaper cream; get a towel for Joshy's bath since I can't leave him or else he will drown and we wouldn't want him to be dripping wet, naked and cold after his bath,...).
I am very lucky when it comes to teamwork because I have the best teammate there ever was. Actually, this is probably not even luck. I really spotted him early on and knew a good thing when I had it (him) so instead of pulling one of those "Let's be mature and independent and find ourselves in college" we just decided to keep going with a good thing. And I knew that Bill would be a good partner in life and in parenting because he coached his little brother's little league. And he vacuumed the carpet in the basement home that he shared with his other brother so that they both could have their girlfriends over. And mostly, he was able to deal with all of my childish behaviors and lots of times even join in with the immaturity. So I knew Bill would be a good teammate. And then when we started our lives together it was immediately apparent that my idea of cooking included (rubbery) chicken, (burnt/dry) rice and a vegetable so he started doing quite a bit of our cooking for us. I also established that I would do the laundry but only on the condition that he would do the garbage. This has worked out very well... especially since I still make him put away his own clothes anyway. So based on our years as kids together and then as grown ups without kids I knew I had a good teammate.
This is a very good thing because I have often remarked that "I would make a very bad single mom". There are excellent single moms out there but I'm perplexed by their ability to be excellent moms. I'm sure some of them have good support systems from their families but... mostly it seems like it would take more patience and stamina and energy than I have!
There are other rules to working as a team, of course. Whoever carries the diaper bag shouldn't also have to carry the baby. If you hear screaming in the bathtub, assist immediately (you will probably be asked to hold the slippery nude infant while the other person douses him/her with water). If someone is holding a sick child the other person should be on the phone to call the doctor. If you sense your partner is depressed you should bring her home glazed (&/or cream filled) donuts. Finally, (my personal favorite) if your teammate got to sleep in on Saturday you should get to sleep in on Sunday (and have breakfast made for you as interest).
Take it from me as someone while flying solo once nursed the infant while making macaroni and cheese for the preschooler, having a partnership is vitally important for bringing up a family. Because, really, without a teammate you very well could be driving home with a stinky diaper bundled up on the floor of your front seat.
Okay, so back to teamwork. Teamwork truly is the moment when you realize that the bundled up icky diaper you've stuck on the roof of the car is miraculously... gone. That your other half (the mommy or the daddy) has just without being nagged or harangued (is that really a word?) or badgered (I'm pretty sure these are all just synonyms but they sound fun in sequence) he/she has swooped that diaper away and found a public garbage can to toss it into. Sigh. That was nice. See the other half of the in-car diaper change is that you have this baby in tow- and many of us also have other kids too- so getting to the closest garbage can isn't really all that easy if we're single or flying solo that day.
So teamwork is of vital significance. Without teamwork you end up doing crazy maneuvers like vacuuming with an infant (or worse, a toddler) in the Baby Bjorn carrier. You end up having to rush back and forth between pushing one child on the swing while catching the other one at the bottom of the slide. You end up trying to rationally ask your 4 year old to essentially "play fetch" (go get the diaper cream; get a towel for Joshy's bath since I can't leave him or else he will drown and we wouldn't want him to be dripping wet, naked and cold after his bath,...).
I am very lucky when it comes to teamwork because I have the best teammate there ever was. Actually, this is probably not even luck. I really spotted him early on and knew a good thing when I had it (him) so instead of pulling one of those "Let's be mature and independent and find ourselves in college" we just decided to keep going with a good thing. And I knew that Bill would be a good partner in life and in parenting because he coached his little brother's little league. And he vacuumed the carpet in the basement home that he shared with his other brother so that they both could have their girlfriends over. And mostly, he was able to deal with all of my childish behaviors and lots of times even join in with the immaturity. So I knew Bill would be a good teammate. And then when we started our lives together it was immediately apparent that my idea of cooking included (rubbery) chicken, (burnt/dry) rice and a vegetable so he started doing quite a bit of our cooking for us. I also established that I would do the laundry but only on the condition that he would do the garbage. This has worked out very well... especially since I still make him put away his own clothes anyway. So based on our years as kids together and then as grown ups without kids I knew I had a good teammate.
This is a very good thing because I have often remarked that "I would make a very bad single mom". There are excellent single moms out there but I'm perplexed by their ability to be excellent moms. I'm sure some of them have good support systems from their families but... mostly it seems like it would take more patience and stamina and energy than I have!
There are other rules to working as a team, of course. Whoever carries the diaper bag shouldn't also have to carry the baby. If you hear screaming in the bathtub, assist immediately (you will probably be asked to hold the slippery nude infant while the other person douses him/her with water). If someone is holding a sick child the other person should be on the phone to call the doctor. If you sense your partner is depressed you should bring her home glazed (&/or cream filled) donuts. Finally, (my personal favorite) if your teammate got to sleep in on Saturday you should get to sleep in on Sunday (and have breakfast made for you as interest).
Take it from me as someone while flying solo once nursed the infant while making macaroni and cheese for the preschooler, having a partnership is vitally important for bringing up a family. Because, really, without a teammate you very well could be driving home with a stinky diaper bundled up on the floor of your front seat.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Do Not Disturb and other wishful thinking
Today I had a dentist appointment and I brought Liam in tow because his preschool doesn't start until next week. He spent most of the time spinning in the doctor's chair, figuring out how the examination chair works and brushing the teeth on a stuffed alligator (or crocodile, my memory doesn't serve me well here, which is the one with the broad snout, not the pointed snout?). The hygienist was very nice and there was the usual commentary about how big Liam had gotten and about how I only floss when I eat popcorn (don't worry, I love popcorn). Now usually I like to go to the dentist's office by myself. I find the quiet moments in the examining chair almost hypnotic in nature. I'm too poor and cheap for a massage so really this is my spa-time. I just close my eyes and forget about the fact that plaque is being chipped away at my teeth and that I will soon have to endure that awful gritty polish gunk on that tickling, spinning brush. Today as I closed my eyes and drifted off into mommy-is-at-the-spa-don't-call-me mode, I opened my eyes only to see Liam's face no more than 2 inches away from mine, watching as the hygienist worked her magic with her nasty hook tool. Soon enough, Liam was holding the once-sterile mirror up in my mouth to check out mommy's teeth. And it wasn't long before he was looking up my nose either (okay, I might have encouraged that one).
Is there ever really any mommy time? Or for that matter, any daddy time? It's taken Bill well over a month just to get a tee time with his dad and brothers and still the only one they can all kind of agree on is close to dawn on a Sunday morning!
Is no time sacred anymore? When was the last time I wasn't woken up by a scrawny naked string bean shouting "It's time to wake up!" in my face (again, no more than 2 inches away). In fact, the other morning I was seriously rudely awoken by a Pull-Up being smooshed into my face! In utter sleepy disgust I half murmured half yelled "Get that thing out of my face!" To which Liam replied in a completely rationale tone, "But it's dry! I had a dry Pull-Up!" Should I really have to explain why still it's an unpleasant wake-up call in the morning to have an albeit dry Pull-Up stuffed in ones' face? I mean, I know when his last bath was and it wasn't too recent...
So maybe the shower? Maybe that's a mommy or daddy sacred time? I think not. No matter how many cartoons I put on TV or toys I put in Joshua's crib, there's always a rude interruption. Maybe it's Liam coming in to shout, "Mommy! There's a Zhu Zhu Pet Goodmercial on TV" or "I can't find the Goodmote!" (noticing a cute speech impediment here?) and then leaving the door ajar so that the fire alarm will go off in approximately 80 seconds (how's that for a deadline to shower time). Or maybe Bill will be watching Joshua and Josh will wander aimlessly into the bathroom only to start playing peek-a-boo behind the curtain. I can't tell how many times he has actually tried to climb into the shower with me, clothes in all but luckily his cute little legs are too short.
Clearly being a mother or father means that we are not entitled to actual time to ourselves. We knowingly went into this whole parenting thing but did we really know that it would mean going to the bathroom with a crying child on the bathmat in front of us? How could I imagine that while changing at the community center in the changing room, I wouldn't even be given a decent amount of privacy (did I mention that Josh loves to play peekaboo with curtains)?
Of course, I suppose that children could not possibly understand the concept of privacy. Poor Joshua has flashed his behind in the process of diaper changes in more public places than I count. And Liam has been brought to many a public restroom with us as well. And maybe this is all for the best here- that Liam is curious about oral hygiene and that Joshua is learning not to be shy of showering. Someday I will have shower time to myself again and someday I will be able to pick out my clothes for the day without rushing to cover up. Someday I'll be awoken by a calm breeze from our open window. But tomorrow morning I would just settle for being awoken by clothed kid or a cute giggle coming from the baby monitor.
Is there ever really any mommy time? Or for that matter, any daddy time? It's taken Bill well over a month just to get a tee time with his dad and brothers and still the only one they can all kind of agree on is close to dawn on a Sunday morning!
Is no time sacred anymore? When was the last time I wasn't woken up by a scrawny naked string bean shouting "It's time to wake up!" in my face (again, no more than 2 inches away). In fact, the other morning I was seriously rudely awoken by a Pull-Up being smooshed into my face! In utter sleepy disgust I half murmured half yelled "Get that thing out of my face!" To which Liam replied in a completely rationale tone, "But it's dry! I had a dry Pull-Up!" Should I really have to explain why still it's an unpleasant wake-up call in the morning to have an albeit dry Pull-Up stuffed in ones' face? I mean, I know when his last bath was and it wasn't too recent...
So maybe the shower? Maybe that's a mommy or daddy sacred time? I think not. No matter how many cartoons I put on TV or toys I put in Joshua's crib, there's always a rude interruption. Maybe it's Liam coming in to shout, "Mommy! There's a Zhu Zhu Pet Goodmercial on TV" or "I can't find the Goodmote!" (noticing a cute speech impediment here?) and then leaving the door ajar so that the fire alarm will go off in approximately 80 seconds (how's that for a deadline to shower time). Or maybe Bill will be watching Joshua and Josh will wander aimlessly into the bathroom only to start playing peek-a-boo behind the curtain. I can't tell how many times he has actually tried to climb into the shower with me, clothes in all but luckily his cute little legs are too short.
Clearly being a mother or father means that we are not entitled to actual time to ourselves. We knowingly went into this whole parenting thing but did we really know that it would mean going to the bathroom with a crying child on the bathmat in front of us? How could I imagine that while changing at the community center in the changing room, I wouldn't even be given a decent amount of privacy (did I mention that Josh loves to play peekaboo with curtains)?
Of course, I suppose that children could not possibly understand the concept of privacy. Poor Joshua has flashed his behind in the process of diaper changes in more public places than I count. And Liam has been brought to many a public restroom with us as well. And maybe this is all for the best here- that Liam is curious about oral hygiene and that Joshua is learning not to be shy of showering. Someday I will have shower time to myself again and someday I will be able to pick out my clothes for the day without rushing to cover up. Someday I'll be awoken by a calm breeze from our open window. But tomorrow morning I would just settle for being awoken by clothed kid or a cute giggle coming from the baby monitor.
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