That's the name of the couples' retreat we went on today. Ooo la la! A whole day, from sun up to sun down with no kids. At all. Breakfast? We sat and talked like normal people, without wiping mouths, hands, heads or noses. Lunch? We sat and socialized with other couples we know and love. Dinner? Oh, let me tell you about dinner...
Dinner was at a seafood place, on the balcony, overlooking a marina and the beach. We watched the sun slowly sink into the Pacific Ocean. We talked about everything and nothing. We teased and talked, held hands and just sat silently. It was absolute bliss. Mmmm. And so was desert...we shared at Sea Turtle Sundae, YUM!
Oh, and Navy beat Air Force 31-20. Woot!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Aaaaahhhhh...
Tonight was the first night in a really long time that I didn't have to put 4 kids to bed all by myself. You have no idea how wonderful that was.
What? You expected something more? Forget it, I'm going to bed.
What? You expected something more? Forget it, I'm going to bed.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The Mean Red Sock
Ever have one of those days when nothing is going your way? Our littlest dude had one of those days today. Everything was wrong and nothing was right in his world. Take, for instance, this benign looking sock:
It's all fun and games, until you realize that this sock isn't an ordinary sock. It's the MEAN RED sock. And it just would not cooperate with him. He tried and tried to put this one sock on. He pulled and tugged and hollered at the top of his lungs at this sock. All to no avail.
He wanted it on so badly. Being the kind hearted, loving mother I am, instead of helping, I decided to take pictures. And try to talk him out of wearing this sock, in particular. "We have other socks, honey. Here, look! We even have another pair of RED socks, see?" No amount of explaining from me would change his desire to wear this sock, and this sock alone.
It really is my fault he was trying to put this sock on. I haven't cleaned out his sock drawer yet. During the summer, we simply don't wear socks and shoes. It's all about the sandals, flip-flops, bare feet and Crocs around here. So there are two pairs of socks in his drawer that are bitty boy socks. And they're cotton with no elastic or lycra in them. Pretty miserable on the list of comfy, soft, stretchy things, but hey, they filled a need, so they stayed. And then over stayed. Ah, well.
I'm sure his little feet have grown considerably over the summer, judging by the insanely small shoes I tried to cram his feet into on Sunday. Today I planned to take the kids shopping to get their winter shoes. Well, at least the littlest two, since they seem to have grown the most during this last growth spurt. There is one thing I consistently forget when we go shoe shopping. The socks. Every single time. Which is probably why we have these miserable, no-stretch socks in the first place! So I sent the kids to their rooms to retrieve socks from the almighty sock drawers...and thus began the hour long drama of the Mean Red Sock.
Think he'll forgive me? Maybe. Depends on how good his therapist is. Know a good one?
It's all fun and games, until you realize that this sock isn't an ordinary sock. It's the MEAN RED sock. And it just would not cooperate with him. He tried and tried to put this one sock on. He pulled and tugged and hollered at the top of his lungs at this sock. All to no avail.
He wanted it on so badly. Being the kind hearted, loving mother I am, instead of helping, I decided to take pictures. And try to talk him out of wearing this sock, in particular. "We have other socks, honey. Here, look! We even have another pair of RED socks, see?" No amount of explaining from me would change his desire to wear this sock, and this sock alone.It really is my fault he was trying to put this sock on. I haven't cleaned out his sock drawer yet. During the summer, we simply don't wear socks and shoes. It's all about the sandals, flip-flops, bare feet and Crocs around here. So there are two pairs of socks in his drawer that are bitty boy socks. And they're cotton with no elastic or lycra in them. Pretty miserable on the list of comfy, soft, stretchy things, but hey, they filled a need, so they stayed. And then over stayed. Ah, well.
I'm sure his little feet have grown considerably over the summer, judging by the insanely small shoes I tried to cram his feet into on Sunday. Today I planned to take the kids shopping to get their winter shoes. Well, at least the littlest two, since they seem to have grown the most during this last growth spurt. There is one thing I consistently forget when we go shoe shopping. The socks. Every single time. Which is probably why we have these miserable, no-stretch socks in the first place! So I sent the kids to their rooms to retrieve socks from the almighty sock drawers...and thus began the hour long drama of the Mean Red Sock.
Think he'll forgive me? Maybe. Depends on how good his therapist is. Know a good one?
Monday, September 24, 2007
Best chocolate cake you'll ever make
I really enjoy cooking, but I'm definitely not a true foodie. I lack the panache, creativity and abundance of kitchen tools to really be a foodie. Take my best friend from high school...she's a foodie, and a great one at that. Me? Not.so.much. But I still like cooking, when I have the time and motivation to do it.
Last week I came across this recipe from The Pioneer Woman: "The Best Chocolate Sheet Cake. Ever." I had to try it. I like sinfully moist and decadent cakes. I loathe things that are hard and dry. That, and I needed to teach someone how to properly melt butter, but that's another story for another day.
With no proper sheet cake pan, I decided to modify a bit and see how things turned out. The verdict is in, and it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. So, without further ado, here is my version of the world's best chocolate cake.
Simply Scrumptious Chocolate Cake
For the cake:
Preheat the oven to 350.
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
dash of salt
2 sticks butter (not margarine)
6 tablespoons powered cocoa (I used Hershey's baking cocoa)
1 cup boiling water
1/2 cup buttermilk (I didn't have buttermilk, so I put 1/2 tablespoon white vinegar in a tiny bit less than 1/2 cup of 2% milk and used that instead)
2 beaten eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla
In a medium mixing bowl combine flour, sugar and salt. In a saucepan melt butter (go slow, you definitely don't want to to burn it!). Add cocoa and stir well. Add boiling water and allow mixture to bubble for a bit before turning off heat. Pour over flour mixture, and stir lightly until mostly mixed. Don't stir to much, you don't want to make the mixture full of air or over mix it.
In a small mixing bowl, beat 2 eggs until well mixed (get rid of all the lumps of egg white). Add buttermilk, baking soda and vanilla. Mix well. Stir buttermilk mixture into the rest of the cake batter. Pour into a 9x13 cake pan (not glass) and bake for 32 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. At about 28 minutes, you can begin checking the middle of the cake with a toothpick...my cake took 32 minutes to finish cooking in the center.
While cake is baking, make icing (this only takes a few minutes, so you can wait until the cake is done or almost done, if you wish):
1 stick butter
4 tablespoons cocoa
1/4 cup milk
3 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Melt butter (I reused the same saucepan) and add cocoa. Remove from heat and add milk and vanilla followed by powdered sugar. Mix well. Once the cake is done, pour over cooling cake and enjoy it warm with a nice glass of milk. And don't blame me if you make this more than once and suddenly don't fit in your normal clothes.
Last week I came across this recipe from The Pioneer Woman: "The Best Chocolate Sheet Cake. Ever." I had to try it. I like sinfully moist and decadent cakes. I loathe things that are hard and dry. That, and I needed to teach someone how to properly melt butter, but that's another story for another day.
With no proper sheet cake pan, I decided to modify a bit and see how things turned out. The verdict is in, and it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. So, without further ado, here is my version of the world's best chocolate cake.
Simply Scrumptious Chocolate Cake
For the cake:
Preheat the oven to 350.
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
dash of salt
2 sticks butter (not margarine)
6 tablespoons powered cocoa (I used Hershey's baking cocoa)
1 cup boiling water
1/2 cup buttermilk (I didn't have buttermilk, so I put 1/2 tablespoon white vinegar in a tiny bit less than 1/2 cup of 2% milk and used that instead)
2 beaten eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla
In a medium mixing bowl combine flour, sugar and salt. In a saucepan melt butter (go slow, you definitely don't want to to burn it!). Add cocoa and stir well. Add boiling water and allow mixture to bubble for a bit before turning off heat. Pour over flour mixture, and stir lightly until mostly mixed. Don't stir to much, you don't want to make the mixture full of air or over mix it.
In a small mixing bowl, beat 2 eggs until well mixed (get rid of all the lumps of egg white). Add buttermilk, baking soda and vanilla. Mix well. Stir buttermilk mixture into the rest of the cake batter. Pour into a 9x13 cake pan (not glass) and bake for 32 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. At about 28 minutes, you can begin checking the middle of the cake with a toothpick...my cake took 32 minutes to finish cooking in the center.
While cake is baking, make icing (this only takes a few minutes, so you can wait until the cake is done or almost done, if you wish):
1 stick butter
4 tablespoons cocoa
1/4 cup milk
3 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Melt butter (I reused the same saucepan) and add cocoa. Remove from heat and add milk and vanilla followed by powdered sugar. Mix well. Once the cake is done, pour over cooling cake and enjoy it warm with a nice glass of milk. And don't blame me if you make this more than once and suddenly don't fit in your normal clothes.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Just thinking about life
Today was such a good day. We got up, I showered, then made breakfast. After a quick check of email and chat with my extraordinary husband (who is currently in Japan), we headed out to church. While the oldest three went to children's liturgy, Little Dude and I snuggled in and listened to the mass. He was such a sweet little guy in church. He almost always sits still and quietly rearranges stickers or colors in his notebook. Today was one of those really good church days.
Of course, I believe it helped that when the older three came back, the youngest came to sit with me while the oldest two were two rows back with Jay and Darlene. And when the 4 year old tried to pick a fight with Little Dude (yeah, whose crayons were those, anyway?), Sister Mary politely leaned over the pew and said "I see you, young man." Wow. Wanna know how fast he started behaving? How is it that at his tender age, he already knows that Sister means business??
Anyway, after that, we went home and I made some peanut butter and honey sandwiches and we headed up the mountain to Lake Cuyamaca (coo-yuh-MAW-ka for you non SoCal folks) for another load of firewood for our church's Fall Festival. What an awesome day. First off, the weather is simply gorgeous right now. Low 70's, a breeze and bright sunshine. You just can't get any better than this, especially for an afternoon of invigorating manual labor. But enough of that, just trust me that it was a great day. (and Jay, thank you for dinner...I really appreciated that!)
But the best part of the day came this evening, when I was at my wits' end trying to get the kids down. The oldest had her shower, and the three youngest had their baths. We dried off, combed hair, got in jammies, brushed teeth and then snuggled in to watch Little People before saying prayers and climbing into bed. I was able to shoo the oldest three into bed without much effort. But Little Dude? Wanted nothing to do with his bed. At all. He was bargaining with me every which way to Wednesday. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be in bed. He wanted me in bed with him. He wanted water. No, chocolate milk. No just lay in bed with him. No, not in bed, over there. I finally left his room in frustration. There was no pleasing our little tyrant, and I had no patience for his incessant demands. So I walked out, brushed my teeth, fed the cat, fed the fish, got in my pajamas, only to turn around to see him standing silently behind me.
"Mommy, can I have just one hug?"
It hit me like a ton of bricks. Gone were all of my frustrations and impatience. Gone was my irritation and insistence that he just get in bed and stay in bed. He just wanted one hug. I scooped him up and he snuggled into my arms and mumbled something as he almost immediately drifted off to sleep. I sat down in the rocking chair and just held him, grateful he's alive to ask for "just one hug." I'm so very thankful that I have 4 beautiful children who are healthy and happy. Each one is a gift from heaven and each one is so very precious to me. I don't know why I deserve to have all the wonderful things in my life, and I cannot tell you how deeply touched I am to have them.
Of course, I believe it helped that when the older three came back, the youngest came to sit with me while the oldest two were two rows back with Jay and Darlene. And when the 4 year old tried to pick a fight with Little Dude (yeah, whose crayons were those, anyway?), Sister Mary politely leaned over the pew and said "I see you, young man." Wow. Wanna know how fast he started behaving? How is it that at his tender age, he already knows that Sister means business??
Anyway, after that, we went home and I made some peanut butter and honey sandwiches and we headed up the mountain to Lake Cuyamaca (coo-yuh-MAW-ka for you non SoCal folks) for another load of firewood for our church's Fall Festival. What an awesome day. First off, the weather is simply gorgeous right now. Low 70's, a breeze and bright sunshine. You just can't get any better than this, especially for an afternoon of invigorating manual labor. But enough of that, just trust me that it was a great day. (and Jay, thank you for dinner...I really appreciated that!)
But the best part of the day came this evening, when I was at my wits' end trying to get the kids down. The oldest had her shower, and the three youngest had their baths. We dried off, combed hair, got in jammies, brushed teeth and then snuggled in to watch Little People before saying prayers and climbing into bed. I was able to shoo the oldest three into bed without much effort. But Little Dude? Wanted nothing to do with his bed. At all. He was bargaining with me every which way to Wednesday. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be in bed. He wanted me in bed with him. He wanted water. No, chocolate milk. No just lay in bed with him. No, not in bed, over there. I finally left his room in frustration. There was no pleasing our little tyrant, and I had no patience for his incessant demands. So I walked out, brushed my teeth, fed the cat, fed the fish, got in my pajamas, only to turn around to see him standing silently behind me.
"Mommy, can I have just one hug?"
It hit me like a ton of bricks. Gone were all of my frustrations and impatience. Gone was my irritation and insistence that he just get in bed and stay in bed. He just wanted one hug. I scooped him up and he snuggled into my arms and mumbled something as he almost immediately drifted off to sleep. I sat down in the rocking chair and just held him, grateful he's alive to ask for "just one hug." I'm so very thankful that I have 4 beautiful children who are healthy and happy. Each one is a gift from heaven and each one is so very precious to me. I don't know why I deserve to have all the wonderful things in my life, and I cannot tell you how deeply touched I am to have them.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The magic number is 30
That's right: 30. The new answer to Life, The Universe and Everything and here's why. Despite my own trepidation, I decided to attempt pancakes again this morning. It was Saturday, after all, the known day that pancakes get made 2 hours past normal breakfast time, so as to serve as both lunch and breakfast. All right, I admit it, I was feeling lazy.
Thank goodness for the industrial sized bag of Krusteaz in the cupboard. I can't even begin to imagine trying to guess "from scratch" quantities for my kids. They seem to be growing these days. Either that, or they're tanking up in preparation for the onslaught. Last time I made pancakes, I made 25 just for them, and we ran out. Amidst the tears and howling, were claims of certain starvation, hunger pangs threatening to cave in their little bellies and generalized moaning about not having the 6th, 7th or 8 pancake (depending on the child). This time, I was determined to make enough.
And I did. I made the first batch: 16. They were just getting warmed up. I quickly made a second batch of 14 and then sat back and watched the stacks disappear. I was starting to get worried, but then magically, as quickly as they had appeared, the plates one by one disappeared from the table. When the dust cleared, I had 3 pancakes left. It was an amazing sight to see, and I definitely felt a sense of relief. I had survived. I made pancakes and more pancakes, and I conquered the beast!
Have I mentioned the fear I harbor for when they all hit teenage years? Because I'm afraid. Very afraid.
Thank goodness for the industrial sized bag of Krusteaz in the cupboard. I can't even begin to imagine trying to guess "from scratch" quantities for my kids. They seem to be growing these days. Either that, or they're tanking up in preparation for the onslaught. Last time I made pancakes, I made 25 just for them, and we ran out. Amidst the tears and howling, were claims of certain starvation, hunger pangs threatening to cave in their little bellies and generalized moaning about not having the 6th, 7th or 8 pancake (depending on the child). This time, I was determined to make enough.
And I did. I made the first batch: 16. They were just getting warmed up. I quickly made a second batch of 14 and then sat back and watched the stacks disappear. I was starting to get worried, but then magically, as quickly as they had appeared, the plates one by one disappeared from the table. When the dust cleared, I had 3 pancakes left. It was an amazing sight to see, and I definitely felt a sense of relief. I had survived. I made pancakes and more pancakes, and I conquered the beast!
Have I mentioned the fear I harbor for when they all hit teenage years? Because I'm afraid. Very afraid.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Today is Friday
Today is Friday. End of the work week. Time to kick back and relax for the weekend. Or, in my case, time to have another day just like all the rest of the days of the week: 6-something-am ~ get woken up by the baby who wants to snuggle, take a shower, rub eyes repeatedly whilst yawning greatly, direct kids 1-4 to get dressed, make breakfast, make breakfast, make breakfast, ask if anyone else is still hungry, make more breakfast...just another day in the life.
I'm racking my brain trying to decide if anything interesting happened today. Probably not. At least not that I can remember. Oh, except that the poor little guy got his first bee sting today. He told me "yeah, mommy, it huwts wite dere." Other than a bit of "ow, ow, ow, mommy, ow wite dere" he didn't really cry. He told me "don't poke, mommy" as I extracted the stinger. And then asked in an incredulous voice "where'd it go, mommy?" after it was out. Quite the trooper. The good news is, there was no swelling, no redness, no reaction at all. Just a stinger hanging out that I removed, then iced and gave him a bit of benedryl.
His other big statement of the day was something that just cracked me up. I always have some sort of school work out for one child or another throughout the day. Little Dude came up, plopped himself down in his chair and hollered at me, "where my school is, mommy???" This boy means business when it comes to his education!
I think the moral of this story is that I should resist the temptation to blog while I should be in bed. I'll get right on that...good night!
I'm racking my brain trying to decide if anything interesting happened today. Probably not. At least not that I can remember. Oh, except that the poor little guy got his first bee sting today. He told me "yeah, mommy, it huwts wite dere." Other than a bit of "ow, ow, ow, mommy, ow wite dere" he didn't really cry. He told me "don't poke, mommy" as I extracted the stinger. And then asked in an incredulous voice "where'd it go, mommy?" after it was out. Quite the trooper. The good news is, there was no swelling, no redness, no reaction at all. Just a stinger hanging out that I removed, then iced and gave him a bit of benedryl.
His other big statement of the day was something that just cracked me up. I always have some sort of school work out for one child or another throughout the day. Little Dude came up, plopped himself down in his chair and hollered at me, "where my school is, mommy???" This boy means business when it comes to his education!
I think the moral of this story is that I should resist the temptation to blog while I should be in bed. I'll get right on that...good night!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
It might be a growth spurt when...
1. The baby asks for a fourth bowl of cereal after already consuming 2 gogurts.
2. Six gallons of milk fail to last a week.
3. Two Costco sized loaves of bread are gone before your next trip to the store.
4. You feed the kids 3 times per day, before AND after each meal, and they still claim to be hungry.
5. There are no scraps of food remaining under the table, and you don't have a dog.
6. Your stack of 25 pancakes does not outlast the kids.
7. The baby actually eats the food you've prepared.
8. The normal 11 hours of kid-free time suddenly increases by 2 or more hours.
9. The pants you had to roll last week are now capris or the shorts that were board shorts last week are now Daisy Duke's.
10. You hear "mommy, my legs/knees/shins hurt" 473,295 times in one night from one child alone. You may or may not get any sleep between these periods of intense howling.
2. Six gallons of milk fail to last a week.
3. Two Costco sized loaves of bread are gone before your next trip to the store.
4. You feed the kids 3 times per day, before AND after each meal, and they still claim to be hungry.
5. There are no scraps of food remaining under the table, and you don't have a dog.
6. Your stack of 25 pancakes does not outlast the kids.
7. The baby actually eats the food you've prepared.
8. The normal 11 hours of kid-free time suddenly increases by 2 or more hours.
9. The pants you had to roll last week are now capris or the shorts that were board shorts last week are now Daisy Duke's.
10. You hear "mommy, my legs/knees/shins hurt" 473,295 times in one night from one child alone. You may or may not get any sleep between these periods of intense howling.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
What would you do with two black queens?
Today I headed out to Costco to do a bit a shopping. You know, get kitty litter for the next ten years, pick up enough granola and shredded wheat to feed a small army (which we happen to have, by the way), toothbrushes for 10, and enough sudafed to dry up the Colorado River for a month. Just regular stuff.
But, you should know, that I can never stick to the list. I did very well today. And of the 34 items that made it into my basket (besides the children who were in and out so much it was hard to tell them from the groceries), only ONE item (okay, actually 4...if you count the 3 pairs of pajamas that weren't on the list but were on sale/clearance and were available in the next size up...) wasn't on my list. A chess set.
Yep, in amongst the toilet tablets with bleach, soft scrub with bleach, Kleenex, 12 rolls of paper towels, 5 pounds of shredded cheese, bohemian package of string cheese, 4 gallons of milk, five 40 pound buckets of kitty litter and industrial size jug of Robitussin, was a lonely chess set. It says "PLAY TO WIN: CHESS" in bold letters across the front. There's a lovely chess board, an instruction book and a fairly indestructible looking set of chess pieces.
After we came home from shopping, I busied myself with putting away the perishables, and then focused on cleaning out the hall closet (and let me just say that I made some rather startling discoveries there...man, the things that you find in those hall closets with their inevitable 4th dimensions). Meanwhile, our bookworm set out to learn all she could about the game of chess. With the help of her curious brothers, she poured through the book and then went about setting up for a game. And that's when we discovered we had issues.
Don't get me wrong. I'm all about tolerance. And equality and all the rest. But don't you think that changing the pieces in a chess set, and probably the rules, too, for that matter, is going a bit far? 8 black pawns? Check. 8 white pawns? Check. Rooks, knights, castles? Check, check, check. Kings? Queens? Um, well...
"Mommy, I think there is a problem here." Yes, I'd say that's a problem. You see, we had a white king, and a white queen. But then, all we had was two black queens. So here's my theory...black couldn't lose, right? Because it's all about the king. With no king on the board, it logically follows that your king can't be captured, and therefore you can't lose. But with two queens...man! Can you imagine all the havoc you could wreak?
So we went back to Costco this evening to return our defectively politically (in)correct chess set. As I tucked in my daughter tonight, her final words to me were, "Good night mommy, I love you. And when you teach me to play chess, can I always be white?"
"Because white always goes first?"
"Yep."
"Mmm hmm. We'll see."
But, you should know, that I can never stick to the list. I did very well today. And of the 34 items that made it into my basket (besides the children who were in and out so much it was hard to tell them from the groceries), only ONE item (okay, actually 4...if you count the 3 pairs of pajamas that weren't on the list but were on sale/clearance and were available in the next size up...) wasn't on my list. A chess set.
Yep, in amongst the toilet tablets with bleach, soft scrub with bleach, Kleenex, 12 rolls of paper towels, 5 pounds of shredded cheese, bohemian package of string cheese, 4 gallons of milk, five 40 pound buckets of kitty litter and industrial size jug of Robitussin, was a lonely chess set. It says "PLAY TO WIN: CHESS" in bold letters across the front. There's a lovely chess board, an instruction book and a fairly indestructible looking set of chess pieces.
After we came home from shopping, I busied myself with putting away the perishables, and then focused on cleaning out the hall closet (and let me just say that I made some rather startling discoveries there...man, the things that you find in those hall closets with their inevitable 4th dimensions). Meanwhile, our bookworm set out to learn all she could about the game of chess. With the help of her curious brothers, she poured through the book and then went about setting up for a game. And that's when we discovered we had issues.
Don't get me wrong. I'm all about tolerance. And equality and all the rest. But don't you think that changing the pieces in a chess set, and probably the rules, too, for that matter, is going a bit far? 8 black pawns? Check. 8 white pawns? Check. Rooks, knights, castles? Check, check, check. Kings? Queens? Um, well...
"Mommy, I think there is a problem here." Yes, I'd say that's a problem. You see, we had a white king, and a white queen. But then, all we had was two black queens. So here's my theory...black couldn't lose, right? Because it's all about the king. With no king on the board, it logically follows that your king can't be captured, and therefore you can't lose. But with two queens...man! Can you imagine all the havoc you could wreak?
So we went back to Costco this evening to return our defectively politically (in)correct chess set. As I tucked in my daughter tonight, her final words to me were, "Good night mommy, I love you. And when you teach me to play chess, can I always be white?"
"Because white always goes first?"
"Yep."
"Mmm hmm. We'll see."
Monday, September 17, 2007
Eeeeewww! Our house stinks!
Apparently vanilla extract stinks. That's what the 4 year old informed me today. Bookworm and I were quite happily doing our chemistry experiment on molecules. The experiment was fun, and consisted of putting a bit of vanilla extract into a balloon and blowing up the balloon. We discussed how the vanilla extract was inside the balloon, yet we could still smell the distinct smell of the vanilla outside the room. (and for the record, I put the extract in with a dropper in a different room...so the smell wouldn't follow me around) In any case, it was fun to learn that vanillin molecules (the smell part) are so tiny that they can penetrate a seemingly solid balloon.
However, Mighty Man didn't approve of our stinking up the house! He came in sniffing around, looking for the source. Upon seeing us at the table, he announced "Eeeeewww! What is that? Our house stinks!" So now you know; vanilla extract isn't the house warming, pleasant source of fond memories for all involved.
However, Mighty Man didn't approve of our stinking up the house! He came in sniffing around, looking for the source. Upon seeing us at the table, he announced "Eeeeewww! What is that? Our house stinks!" So now you know; vanilla extract isn't the house warming, pleasant source of fond memories for all involved.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Revenge of the overcooked noodle
For the record, one should NOT cook macaroni noodles for 42 minutes and 13 seconds. That's how long the timer was set for. Our daughter was having her first crack at making mac and cheese from a box. Heat the water, boil the noodles, drain, add butter and milk. What could be easier?
Let me just start by saying that I was planning to make the mac and cheese. But I was also trying to give the 3 boys their haircuts. She wanted to help, so I set her to watching the water boil (such a nice mom, aren't I?). However, instead of getting me, she just went ahead, reading, following the directions (should I stir the noodles mom? Because the box says to stir the noodles) and trying to make the noodles perfect. I was trying to talk her through it, while also trying not to chop off ears or poke eyes or otherwise maim the victims, er, boys. She exuded confidence until it came to turning off the stove. Despite repeated directions on how to turn off the burner, she couldn't quite grasp that you have to turn the flame UP to get it to go OFF. She could turn it low, but never make it go away. So it cooked. And cooked. And cooked. And cooked some more while she pondered this problem.
At this point, it was definitely her project. Not mine. I came in and the timer still had 2:53 left, which perplexed me, since it should have been set for 8 minutes...and clearly more than 5 minutes and 7 seconds had gone by. Instead of turning it off, I let it run. You see, this timer resets when it's done. Usually I have it set for 15 minutes. 15 minutes to clean up, 15 minutes to play, 15 minutes to do chores, 15 minutes to get in pajamas and brush teeth...you get the idea. Anyway, I melted the butter, dumped in the noodles (um, if you could still call them that) and stirred in the cheesey stuff. It looked bad. It looked like a failed attempt to melt cheese. The noodles had no shape and were completely flat. Finally, the timer went off, I silenced it and then laughed at the number...42 minutes and 13 seconds. How this was supposed to be 8 minutes is beyond me, lol!
And just so you know, I don't recommend eating mac and cheese cooked this long, lol! It's AWFUL!
Let me just start by saying that I was planning to make the mac and cheese. But I was also trying to give the 3 boys their haircuts. She wanted to help, so I set her to watching the water boil (such a nice mom, aren't I?). However, instead of getting me, she just went ahead, reading, following the directions (should I stir the noodles mom? Because the box says to stir the noodles) and trying to make the noodles perfect. I was trying to talk her through it, while also trying not to chop off ears or poke eyes or otherwise maim the victims, er, boys. She exuded confidence until it came to turning off the stove. Despite repeated directions on how to turn off the burner, she couldn't quite grasp that you have to turn the flame UP to get it to go OFF. She could turn it low, but never make it go away. So it cooked. And cooked. And cooked. And cooked some more while she pondered this problem.
At this point, it was definitely her project. Not mine. I came in and the timer still had 2:53 left, which perplexed me, since it should have been set for 8 minutes...and clearly more than 5 minutes and 7 seconds had gone by. Instead of turning it off, I let it run. You see, this timer resets when it's done. Usually I have it set for 15 minutes. 15 minutes to clean up, 15 minutes to play, 15 minutes to do chores, 15 minutes to get in pajamas and brush teeth...you get the idea. Anyway, I melted the butter, dumped in the noodles (um, if you could still call them that) and stirred in the cheesey stuff. It looked bad. It looked like a failed attempt to melt cheese. The noodles had no shape and were completely flat. Finally, the timer went off, I silenced it and then laughed at the number...42 minutes and 13 seconds. How this was supposed to be 8 minutes is beyond me, lol!
And just so you know, I don't recommend eating mac and cheese cooked this long, lol! It's AWFUL!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I'm taking the day off.
I've decided to take the day off. Off from pretty much everything. We did speech therapy today for the 6yo and the 4yo. Then we did all the shopping I've been meaning to do for the last week. And then we just relaxed. Why bother with school when the kids are all playing nicely and you already have your feet up?
I made chicken and cheese enchiladas for dinner. They were super easy to make and even better to eat. I'll have to make these again sometime. (and thank you, joelle, for the recipe!) Tomorrow, I think I'll make baked spaghetti. And then we'll eat left overs for the rest of the weekend. I hope you weren't holding your breath for something earth shattering from me. Like I said, I'm taking the day off! So, good night, until next time!
I made chicken and cheese enchiladas for dinner. They were super easy to make and even better to eat. I'll have to make these again sometime. (and thank you, joelle, for the recipe!) Tomorrow, I think I'll make baked spaghetti. And then we'll eat left overs for the rest of the weekend. I hope you weren't holding your breath for something earth shattering from me. Like I said, I'm taking the day off! So, good night, until next time!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Blue...is pink
So our 6 year old is trying to teach our 4 year old Spanish. I don't know why. He doesn't speak a lick of Spanish himself. But I hear him telling his brother "Blue, is pink, in Spanish. See? And green...is black, over here, in Spanish." I'm not sure what has possessed him to make such wild statements, but there you have it. Blue, is definitely pink, in Spanish.
There are definitely times as a parent when you just stop and wonder at the words that come so willingly out of such innocent little mouthes. And that those words are so readily absorbed by other little sponge-like minds. Certainly not something you can predict or even necessarily follow. That's what I like so much about teaching our children at home. Their minds are so wide open, and so willing to absorb anything and everything you can teach them. Why hold them to "traditional" learning, when they can grab a hold of an idea, and take it to the moon and beyond. Why shouldn't my 8 year old be learning about molecular models and atomic numbers? Why shouldn't my 6 year old be able to solve algebraic equations in his head? Why shouldn't my 4 year old be reading? They are just ready and waiting for someone to show them the wonders of our world. I'm just there to put the information in front of them and watch them blossom into a world of their own discovery.
There are definitely times as a parent when you just stop and wonder at the words that come so willingly out of such innocent little mouthes. And that those words are so readily absorbed by other little sponge-like minds. Certainly not something you can predict or even necessarily follow. That's what I like so much about teaching our children at home. Their minds are so wide open, and so willing to absorb anything and everything you can teach them. Why hold them to "traditional" learning, when they can grab a hold of an idea, and take it to the moon and beyond. Why shouldn't my 8 year old be learning about molecular models and atomic numbers? Why shouldn't my 6 year old be able to solve algebraic equations in his head? Why shouldn't my 4 year old be reading? They are just ready and waiting for someone to show them the wonders of our world. I'm just there to put the information in front of them and watch them blossom into a world of their own discovery.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
It says "clean," but they're still dirty
I was making lunch this afternoon, and discovered that I needed clean plates for the kids. Little light on the dishwasher proclaimed that the contents contained within were clean! So why is it, then, that the dishes I needed were still dirty? I had run the dishwasher, with soap. The cycle was complete, and in fact, the other dishes were clean. So how is it that all the utensils, all the cups, bowls and serving dishes were clean, yet the children's plates were still dirty? Am I the victim of some weird phenomenon of physics?
Apparently not. You see, the top of plate 1 was clean. And the bottom of plate 12 was clean. (Yes, we have 4 children and they like to eat three times per day. Ridiculous, isn't it?) This is what happens to me when I try to do, I don't know, say 18 things at once. I forget that I stacked the plates in the dishwasher so I wouldn't leave a mess on the counter. I think today's load will contain about 16 or 20 plates...just so I can catch up, you know.
Apparently not. You see, the top of plate 1 was clean. And the bottom of plate 12 was clean. (Yes, we have 4 children and they like to eat three times per day. Ridiculous, isn't it?) This is what happens to me when I try to do, I don't know, say 18 things at once. I forget that I stacked the plates in the dishwasher so I wouldn't leave a mess on the counter. I think today's load will contain about 16 or 20 plates...just so I can catch up, you know.
Monday, September 10, 2007
well, that's annoying
Did you know that when you blog, but don't post until later, that it posts under the original date? Heaven help you if you have two brilliant blog ideas on one day and want to post one and save one for later. Because you can't. You can have a post started, and finish it days later, and it will still post under the day you started it.
So now I'm left with no blog for today, because my blog for today ended up being my second blog for yesterday. Are you following me here? I'm just a little annoyed. But hey, at least the kids are happy, and the fish are fed. Or I've fed the happy fish to the kids. Or something. It's late I think. Perhaps I should go to bed.
So now I'm left with no blog for today, because my blog for today ended up being my second blog for yesterday. Are you following me here? I'm just a little annoyed. But hey, at least the kids are happy, and the fish are fed. Or I've fed the happy fish to the kids. Or something. It's late I think. Perhaps I should go to bed.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
"I found my pussy!"
Sometimes, you have to take what the children say with a grain of innocence. For instance, what my daughter said today. "I found my pussy!" When I turned around, somewhat shocked and asked, "What???" she hastened to say "Look, mommy! I found my pussy cat!" And there she was. Our cat, blissfully perched under the table on a chair.
Well, I'm glad we got that settled. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and I knew you were...marker comes off the table much better *after* a fresh coat of Old English.
One more thing. What's the deal with my laundry? I usually do at least one load per day, with 3 on Friday (I change all 5 beds on Friday). So I did my usual 3 on Friday, and today is Monday (yes, I started this post Sunday, and finished it Monday) and I STILL don't have enough to do even a small load. Does this really mean that my husband produces more clothes than the entire rest of the family combined??? Where's the logic in that?
Well, I'm glad we got that settled. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and I knew you were...marker comes off the table much better *after* a fresh coat of Old English.
One more thing. What's the deal with my laundry? I usually do at least one load per day, with 3 on Friday (I change all 5 beds on Friday). So I did my usual 3 on Friday, and today is Monday (yes, I started this post Sunday, and finished it Monday) and I STILL don't have enough to do even a small load. Does this really mean that my husband produces more clothes than the entire rest of the family combined??? Where's the logic in that?
What was I thinking???
What was I thinking when I painted the kids' bathroom WHITE? Don't get me wrong. I like white bathrooms. It has such a crisp, clean quality. I like to walk into my bathroom and see where the dirt is and then irradicate it. There are two places in the house that I like to have clean: the kitchen and the bathroom. The rest can just remain under the dust deep enough to plant potatoes and the kid grime that covers every surface.
But the kids' bathroom? White? WHY??? Maybe I should have gone with a nice chocolate brown, or perhaps a deeper MUD brown with black flecks. Heck, even a dirty (country) blue with chocolate accents. That's in right now, right?
It's amazing to me how the bathroom can go from clean and sparkling, to mud flecked and dripping in under 2 minutes. See, I was catching a bit of a break while the kids were outside playing. I suppose I should have noticed how nicely they were playing together. Anyhow, I made dinner and then called the kids in to wash their hands. Next thing I know, the entry rug is brown (not blue), the carpet is brown (not gray with sundry juice and dry erase marker accents) and the bathroom is brown. The kids? Yeah, they're still brown, too. ::sigh::
I have to laugh at the colors I'm contemplating. I picked out Mississippi Mud on Behr.com. The site recommended pairing it with Coconut Husk, Yorkshire Brown and Innocence. HA! They don't know my children. Otherwise, they certainly wouldn't have recommended I use anything remotely related to Innocence...such a delicate shade of off-ivory-white. I may consider it for the ceiling, however. Or not. And while I'm contemplating color changes, I may ditch the white toilet in favor of one that is perhaps a delicious shade of dandelion yellow.
But the kids' bathroom? White? WHY??? Maybe I should have gone with a nice chocolate brown, or perhaps a deeper MUD brown with black flecks. Heck, even a dirty (country) blue with chocolate accents. That's in right now, right?
It's amazing to me how the bathroom can go from clean and sparkling, to mud flecked and dripping in under 2 minutes. See, I was catching a bit of a break while the kids were outside playing. I suppose I should have noticed how nicely they were playing together. Anyhow, I made dinner and then called the kids in to wash their hands. Next thing I know, the entry rug is brown (not blue), the carpet is brown (not gray with sundry juice and dry erase marker accents) and the bathroom is brown. The kids? Yeah, they're still brown, too. ::sigh::
I have to laugh at the colors I'm contemplating. I picked out Mississippi Mud on Behr.com. The site recommended pairing it with Coconut Husk, Yorkshire Brown and Innocence. HA! They don't know my children. Otherwise, they certainly wouldn't have recommended I use anything remotely related to Innocence...such a delicate shade of off-ivory-white. I may consider it for the ceiling, however. Or not. And while I'm contemplating color changes, I may ditch the white toilet in favor of one that is perhaps a delicious shade of dandelion yellow.
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