Nov
22
I can’t believe that Alex is 8.
Every day, that guy cracks me up.
For his birthday, Alex wanted a Monster Book of Monsters cake and a variety of office supplies. His very specific requests were for tan duct tape, a stapler (though as a household we already have 2, a standard stapler and a long-armed stapler), and “clickable” black pens. That was not a hard birthday wish to grant at all. He happily opened his birthday gifts and used his new supplies right there in the middle of the floor with great gusto for quite some time.
Though he’s not with me on his birthday, he’s with his dad, he said that he had a good time celebrating his birthday. And he was very, very excited about getting to take cupcakes to school to distribute among his classmates.
I always think of his birthday as the anniversary of the Kennedy assassination, as this during labor, the hospital room TV kept talking about the 40th anniversary of that event. Recently, I’ve chosen to think about it as the day Lyndon Johnson became president. It’s a reminder to think about things in a glass-half-full kind of way and a reminder to try to teach that way of thinking to my little guy.
Happy Birthday, Alex.
Dec
20
Oh looky here. I have some vacation time on my hands and here I come crawling back to the oft-neglected blog. But, hey, I have time to cook!
Alex loves meatballs. I don’t know that he has met a meatball that he won’t eat. Considering that cooking is one of the primary ways that I show my love, and I am off work for a bit, I decided to make some meatballs. Oh no, son, when mama has the time, you don’t have to sit around wishing that we could go to Ikea so that you can have meatballs.
Now on the other side of things, I love to try new recipes. So, I set out to find a meatball recipe that I haven’t made yet. I remember seeing one not too long ago in Bon Appetit so I ventured on down to Epicurious (as if I jauntily strolled down the street) to look. That’s when I found the recipe.
Yes, when I can, I will procure three different types of ground meat to make meatballs for the Young Mister. I try not to wonder whether this is sick.
I though these were the best meatballs I ever tasted. Young Mister, however, didn’t appear to be convinced. He ate one of them. Then again, he can be a light eater. I’ll know the true verdict when the topic of leftovers come up. I guess that if the next time he has a hankering for meatballs he just says, “Mama, can we go to Ikea?” that would suffice as a verdict. If he doesn’t eat them, I think I know a person or two who will.
Jul
10
So, while Alex says that he likes school, getting him to practice reading is like pulling teeth from the inflamed gums of a carnivorous mammal who once had an impacted tooth extracted with no meds when he thought he was going to get a sanguine treat.
As fate would have it, he needs the practice.
In addition to mild bribery, I have been looking for other incentives. I think I found one that works.
The chalkboard wall. I wrote him a letter which he actually read with me without making faces, pouting or otherwise threatening a breakdown of some sort. Hmm.
I have learned through this that Alex is rather discerning about his knock knock jokes.
I will draw full-scale comics on his wall if that’s what it takes for him to break the reading code.
A mama’s gotta do what a mama’s gotta do.
Jan
31
You gotta love those slogans. Actually, my favorite one is, “Pork: the other white meat.” Seriously? But that’s neither here nor there. Perhaps that slogan actually got into my brain somehow on a deeper level, the cheese one. Because today at Casa Turner|Augustine (Taugustine?), it was cheese day.
So, we made ricotta cheese this morning (goal 27!). Right there in our home kitchen. And I felt like Ma Ingalls again, and I spent a minute swooning over Michael Landon, because that happens every time I feel like Ma Ingalls. This time, I got so into it, that I felt like I should go face Mrs. Olson at the mercantile.Hey, I spent many childhood hours watching Little House on the Prairie on TNT.
Then, we went to Zingerman’s Creamery for a bit of a tour. Why not. I mean, if we are beholding the power of cheese (and gelato), we might as well go the distance.
And the little guy even got sorbet out of the deal. I love my life.
Sep
24
I was all set to write something that I observed today in my son’s classroom. I thought it was funny, and a cheap and easy way to make an blog post on a day when I’m tired an a bit uninspired (but still wanting to meet the goal of posting every day for a month).
Then, I thought twice about what I was going to say, and thought of something that Alex said recently:
“If I get it out to say it, I’m not going to say it. I’m going to put it back in my head.”
As parents, we all have to make the decisions that seem right to us day after day, minute after minute. The last thing any parent needs is yet another person slinging judgment…even if it is just to make a little joke.
So, I declined.
Aug
02
The BBA Challenge is back with the Cinnamon Raisin Walnut Bread.
Can I just say that I didn’t think that I would be able to coerce 1.5 cups of raisins into this bread. But, I have had a pretty good success rate with Reinhart’s breads (well, with the exception of the ciabatta), so I just went for it and it worked.
This loaf of bread goes out to Alex. Seeing the opportunity for a math literacy experience, I let him help with the bread making. I think I was trying to distract him from something else too, but that’s the way it goes in momland.
Alex also gets partial credit for breakfast this morning. He scrubbed the potatoes like a pro. This was one time that his helping was actually helping. Bonus!
Alex also gets some credit for helping to pack his lunch. I think that this, with the coming school year, might just have to be a part of Big Boy Central. Again, I see the opportunity for some math experiences. Put 12 pretzels in the bag. Okay, put half that amount of strawberries in a different bag.
Today holds no complaints and some delicious food. Amen.
Feb
23
I have this crazy fantasy of being all Ma Ingalls and making all of the food that my family needs and sewing clothes and just being that ultimate mother figure that Karen Grassle evoked as she played Caroline. I am sure that Michael Landon figures in there somewhere in this fantsy, but that is neither here nor there. The whole working a day job and having student loans and other bills to pay sort of crushes the fantasy (for now). However, I can bake some bread.
While resting the dough, I talked to a friend (ahhh, good times) and played a board game with my son. And there was more resting/waiting to happen, so I made a cup of tea and played a half-hearted game of Candyland with the young one. Then there was a tryst with a piece of pita bread (well, half), half a banana and some mini chocolate chips accompanied by another cup of tea. What? 38 minutes and 28 more seconds? Well, there’s always Such a Pretty Fat, a book I’ve been reading in little bite-sized morsels. And then there is the bread fantasy, me and a piece of bread slathered in butter (both of us if need be) and, then, mmmmm. Uh, somehow that didn’t strike me as Ma Ingalls.
And that was before the smell took hold, yes, with 17 minutes and 17 seconds of baking to go, the kitchen began to smell like a bakery. It took a great deal of restraint to keep my saliva under control, and not on my keyboard.
Can’t you just smell it. Yes, that was the hard part, being able to smell it, knowing that I could partake of it’s yeasty warmth, but that I should wait for an hour (or two) before cutting into it. So, what else to do but return to the world of fantasy. I imagine a deep Barry Whitesque voice saying to me, “Woman, you sure do know how to make a finely-shaped loaf of bread.” Then I swoon and wait until my knife can defile the virgin loaf.
And then she had dinner for bread.
