tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79677188506403869332024-03-21T08:08:06.835-07:00Perfectly Normal: We Do Normal... Perfectly!It's like our endless instant messenger chats, only, you're invited.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-64343929141746789202009-12-06T22:20:00.000-08:002009-12-06T22:22:13.210-08:00Silly, I knowI know no one reads this anymore, but I can't let Bison Shepherd Pie be the very last post ever. I just can't.<div><br /></div><div>So.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do I do normal perfectly? Not so sure, but I do try!</div><div><br /></div><div>Today's 'cupcake gathering' was the perfect example.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had the boys invite two each friends from school. I then invited my neighbors. What I didn't anticipate?</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, maybe if anyone reads this blog, and actually wants to find out... I might write it.</div><div><br /></div><div>At least though, Bison Shepherd Pie isn't the last post!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-55189975968829875142008-11-19T15:06:00.000-08:002008-11-19T15:17:14.033-08:00Mmmm Bison Shepherd PieI've got a thing for Shepherd's Pie, and I'm always trying to mix it up. Just like Rachel Ray. Only not as perkily.<br /><br />One of the problems in my house is that for great Shepherd's Pie, you normally need left over roast, lamb, beef, turkey or er, Tofu, if you're a vegetarian.<br /><br />Please, though, I wouldn't suggest trying to make it with Tofu.<br /><br />The point is, we never have left over meat. Ever. I've got two hobbits,carnivorous husband who must have red meat or he'll die, and a growing daughter who shares her father's love of red meat.<br /><br />But, I was inspired today.<br /><br />Three things happened.<br /><br />One) Paula Deen made some mouth-watering Shepherd's Pie.<br />Two) I have Bison<br />Three) I own a crock pot.<br /><br />Sooo, we can't have Shepherd's Pie tonight, but tomorrow, it's all good. Here's my take on my recipe, using some of Paula Deen's twists:<br /><br />Ingredients:<br />Mashed Potatoes (Mash em yourself, and be sure to use Russets)<br />Frozen Peas<br />Frozen Carrots<br />Frozen whatever vegetable you want in place of peas/carrots<br />Seriously, ANYTHING goes<br />Cooked Bison Roast<br />Bisquick mix (thanks, Paula Deen!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Day One:</span><br />So, take your bison roast, dump it in the crock pot. Add a cup of liquid (I used coffee) and a beef broth cube.<br />Put on low.<br />Cook on slow for 8-10 hours.<br />Let cool. Shred. Refrigerate until time to make the pie.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Making the Shepherd's Pie:</span><br /><br />1) Mash the potatoes (Potatoes, butter, 1/2 cup of sour cream, you know what to do)<br />2) Put mashed potatoes in bottom of baking pan.<br />3) Layer bison roast that has been sitting in the fridge just waiting for the day you didn't want to cook much.<br />4) Cover with vegetables.<br />5) Pour Bisquick over the vegetables.<br />6) Bake until done (everything is heated and bisquick looks like a yummy crust)<br /><br />This is a yummy idea. Trust me. And to prove it, when it's all done, there will be photos! And if you don't like Bison, well, there's pork, beef, lamb, venison, turkey and sausage!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-40444395770214916832008-11-19T08:15:00.001-08:002008-11-19T09:06:42.884-08:00Saving MoneyI have three jobs. Two of them are kind of crappy. I keep them because the main job doesn't pay on time, and I can't exactly buy groceries with "no, really, the check will clear tomorrow."<br /><br />It's kind of sucking away my energy to blog, but the real mojo-killer is the fact that I'm freaking lucky to have ANY job in this economy, let alone a patchwork quilt of jobs that lets me stay home with the little man. But at the end of the day, I have very little energy for creativity.<br /><br />All of my creativity is going towards keeping the grocery bill under control. When I started food shopping for me and the mate in 2002, I spent fifty bucks every two weeks. Now less food is over a hundred every two weeks! And in 2002, if it wasn't finished and ready for the microwave, I didn't buy it. I kept dog biscuits in the kitchen canisters, because I sure as hell never bought flour or sugar. Not just any dog biscuits, either, the meat flavored brand name biscuits.<br /><br />So I am totally cranky about my Mature Adult Virtue costing more money. Stupid economy ruins everything.<br /><br />Here's what we've done so far:<br /><br />- Cut the non-grocery items. Man, I did not quite grasp how much non-food stuff I was buying at Safeway until I stopped. Firewood, food storage, greeting cards, kitchen gadgets - all of it marked up to the rafters and unnecessary to boot. These things still occasionally jump into my cart, but I glare at them until they jump back out. I mean, a doodad that will dice a whole onion with two chops would be so awesome. However, it is twelve dollars we do not have, whereas I do have a set of knives.<br /><br />- Coupons and club cards. I've used these for years, but it's amazing how much awesome you can get if you're diligent, and ONLY buy things you would have bought anyway. My mate and I love hot links and kielbasa. When the club card has a buy one get one free special, well, that's what the freezer is for. And the dogs don't seem to give a damn that their biscuits are generic or purchased only with half off coupons.<br /><br />- Costco. I still need soap and laundry detergent, and if I'm not buying them from the grocery store, they have to come from somewhere. After surveying the options (Target, Walmart, Costco), Costco won. You need to be strong, and out of three trips, I've only made it out with JUST the items on my list once. A friend called it the Four Hundred Dollar Milk store. You go in for milk, you leave with a TV and a fake fur blanket. I comfort myself knowing that I haven't done too badly - my impulse grabs were tubs of pumpkin bisque soup that ended up serving as eight delicious hot lunches for five bucks, and a pumpkin cheesecake, twelve servings for eight bucks. But random pumpkin purchases aside, the membership fee has already been worth it in terms of the savings on a lot of staples - paper towels, TP, potatoes, detergent, bread, cheese, rice, beans, cereal, cooking spices, and pasta.<br /><br />- Use less crap. I thought I was pretty good - I use plastic grocery bags as trash can and diaper pail liners, and when I've got a good stock of bags, I use canvas sacks to shop with - and not ones I bought, either, ones I collected over years of being a swag magnet. I use sponges instead of paper towels unless the thing I'm wiping up is totally disgusting, like dog pee. Clothes are not necessarily dirty after being worn. Toilet paper... you know what, there are some things you just use as much as you need to use. Anyway. I thought I was good, but you can REALLY go far without any lifestyle sacrifices. Sandwich bags can be reused. Baby food jars can store a lot of things. Tupperware bowls that leak are good toys. My grandfather used to chant "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without." I thought he was nuts. I was wrong.<br /><br />- Learn to cook. This was the hard one for me, the queen of "microwave for two minutes, stirring after 45 seconds." My husband is a brilliant natural cook, something he didn't know until I gave birth and suddenly it was cook or starve. I had partially stocked the freezer with Let's Dish food, but the baby was two weeks early. But he's got a long commute and I don't, so I feel better if I do the bulk of the food prep. I totalled up the costs of microwave Indian food and realized we simply couldn't keep doing it.<br /><br />I'd been taking baby steps - baking squash, stir fries, jambalaya, cookouts. Last week I went TOTALLY INSANE and tried making chana masala from scratch. And, um, it was awesome. It was one million times better than the frozen chana masala (nine dollars, two "entrees"). There were six servings. Admittedly, buying the spices and making tamarind puree was a little steep in money and time, but I've got enough stuff on hand now to make this dish several dozen times over. All I'll need to buy now for each new potfull are the dried chickpeas - under two dollars for the size bag I need.<br /><br />It's funny, but I was feeling really bitchy when I started this post, and now I'm feeling terribly accomplished and fortunate. Who knew it would take a recession and a baby to make me grow up?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-1997724213468499502008-11-12T10:23:00.000-08:002008-11-12T10:30:39.353-08:00He made PBJIt's not a big thing, really. He's almost five. He's asked a few times beforehand, and I believe in self-sufficiency.<br /><br />It wasn't the sandwich, dreadfully mangled, that got to me.<br />It wasn't sticky grape jelly on a little hand clutching a butter knife.<br />It wasn't the patience he exhibited moving the jelly from the jar to the bread one small, tiny bit of jelly at a time.<br /><br />It was the enthusiasm, the excitement, the smile, and the commentary.<br /><br />Look mom! I'll get the Peanut Butter and Jelly! and off he went to the refrigerator.<br />Is this the jelly? He asks, holding up a bottle of Masala paste.<br />No.<br />But this is the Peanut Butter?<br />Yes, but the jelly is on the next shelf up.<br />Oh, this isn't jelly. I'll put this back.<br /><br />Then it was his getting the stool, so he could help.<br />And he was talking to me about it. About how he could make his peanut butter and jelly and use the butter knife, and just spread the jelly, but it's not coming out a lot, he explained. So it was taking some time.<br /><br />Just this one, dull moment did it. One small thing in a day full of small things.<br />My little boy and his little hands and his big enthusiasm.<br /><br />And I just wanted to hug him tight, and kiss him, and say oh, my boy, but I didn't, because it was just peanut butter and jelly, and that's not what he wanted anyhow.<br /><br />So I said 'good job' and ruffled his hair, and watched him as he took off with his sandwich.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-59718037802082689042008-11-06T13:28:00.001-08:002008-11-06T13:47:49.940-08:00Teeth In The Right Wrong OrderThere's <a href="http://health.yahoo.com/oralcare-resources/primary-baby-teeth-eruption-sequence/healthwise--zm2755.html">a little chart</a> that says when teeth come in, and in what order.<br /><br />Tragically, I cannot read.<br /><br />I thought it was bottom middle (got them), top middle (got them), bottom lateral incisor, top lateral incisor, canines, molars.<br /><br />When our son just lost his SHIT in the middle of the night two nights ago, we did the routine we call "running the checklist."<br /><br />Gas bubble in need of burping?<br />Diaper?<br />Cold/hot?<br />Anything pinching or poking?<br />Wants milk?<br />Wants to be walked?<br />Any new swollen spots on the gums? (Please note, on this last one, he's been resisting our fingers in his mouth, so we only check the spot where teeth are supposed to be cutting through next.)<br /><br />Nothing worked. When I offered milk, he bit the holy ever loving crap out of me. He was so exhausted that he was screaming with his eyes closed and his head buried in Daddy's neck. He finally collapsed, utterly worn out, being rocked in my arms.<br /><br />Last night he slept like an angel, but today he was a fussbudget from the minute he whined himself awake, and who skipped his morning nap. When I went to fetch a mercifully happy baby from his afternoon nap, I took advantage of the giggles to play with him. With his mouth wide open, I saw it.<br /><br />A big lateral incisor... on top? What? That wasn't next! And from the size of it, it must have cut through... two nights ago. Oh. Some Tylenol or ice might have been nice instead of, oh, letting him suffer.<br /><br />No wonder people have two kids. You just desperately want to raise a kid without screwing up the way you did with the first one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-68276010215598538182008-11-05T12:46:00.000-08:002008-11-05T13:42:25.376-08:00Tips for an Easier Christmas Morning<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pUzDEPxaZN-aFd646OqjLeCYV4C7eFrk_s1IEy35DagTzIqbk6h9ocGzOaM569Kc-OffHJxzldZW3kztyESzJw4-sc3RJpmgYgLoe11LEoXbMvvf3Cd3p6seFMuJfdUBMb_zWZaTeSE/s1600-h/wireties.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pUzDEPxaZN-aFd646OqjLeCYV4C7eFrk_s1IEy35DagTzIqbk6h9ocGzOaM569Kc-OffHJxzldZW3kztyESzJw4-sc3RJpmgYgLoe11LEoXbMvvf3Cd3p6seFMuJfdUBMb_zWZaTeSE/s200/wireties.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265289727251168338" /></a>The dreaded wire-ties. If you have a child and have bought them a toy from a regular store, you know why I dread wire-ties.<br /><br />My inlaws like to buy Fisher Price toys for my daughter, particularly the Little People. That's great, and they're fun toys, but it's usually very frustrating for my daughter because she'll open the present in 5 seconds and then have to wait 45 minutes for me to actually remove the product from the twist ties, wires, strings, cardboard, plastic and reinforced steel that toy companies use in their packaging.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5KHqozQknxGL3kdCxy5GqOouVcGXyU8wiZeROFJ_qXspoLNlYkqYoltSCa9F9g619rPo47pkFBms2GrfiDeA89M43hlc7s8b23Pa_wS9CJxLRh0AhWjBAQnTdJxMBS8H1g9hOyOZUz8/s1600-h/tools.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5KHqozQknxGL3kdCxy5GqOouVcGXyU8wiZeROFJ_qXspoLNlYkqYoltSCa9F9g619rPo47pkFBms2GrfiDeA89M43hlc7s8b23Pa_wS9CJxLRh0AhWjBAQnTdJxMBS8H1g9hOyOZUz8/s200/tools.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265291313687734306" /></a>Seriously, what is the purpose? Was there such a rash of shoplifting Little People that they have to practically glue them into the box now? On Christmas Eve when I'm frantically wrapping all of the presents I thought I could get ready in under an hour (ha!) I have been taking presents out of their packaging so that the magic of Christmas morning isn't interrupted by needle-nose pliers and a blowtorch.<br /> <br />There are a couple of ways you can avoid having to do all of the unpackaging yourself:<br /><br />1 - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html/ref=gw_cto_frustration?ie=UTF8&docId=1000276271&pf_rd_p=460712101&pf_rd_s=left-nav-2&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_i=507846&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=0YDS3TJ5KMK7MJFD2FX6">Amazon Frustration-Free Packaging</a>! Yes, there were already so many reasons to love Amazon, and now here's one more. They are on a campaign to reduce packaging for the products they carry. This year they have a very limited number of toys and items that will come with minimal packaging. If any of these things are on your shopping list I hope you'll buy them from Amazon to send a message to manufacturers.<br /><br />2 - Buy secondhand: someone else already did all of the unwrapping and assembling. I know a lot of people don't feel it's right to give a child a second-hand toy as a gift. Some of my friends have said that it would make them feel like a bad parent, or like the child might think they didn't love them. I think that's so interesting. Because the kids I've known don't care whether something is new or not, so long as it's all there and looks good and works. And if buying second-hand means mom and dad have money to spend on MORE presents, they're even happier.<br /><br />Not only are these both great ways to save yourself a lot of unhappy Christmas morning (or Eve) unpackaging, they both eliminate some of the holiday waste destined for our landfills. <br /><br />I'd love to hear any other tips you have for avoiding the wire-tie blues!RainyPMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06236256948179373338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-88056870302568364332008-11-04T13:26:00.000-08:002008-11-04T13:30:02.991-08:00Long Live the Retail SeasonIt starts with Halloween.<br />It ends with the January sales.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">All hail the Retail Season.<br />Happy Halloween.<br />Halloween is over.<br />Long live Halloween.<br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Happy Thanksgiving.</span><br />Merry Christmas.<br />Christmas is over.<br />Long live Christmas.<br />Happy New Year.<br />New Year is over.<br />Long live New Year.<br />Happy January sales bonanza.<br />January sales bonanza is over.<br />The retail season is dead.<br />All hail the retail season.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-16804768711950262552008-11-02T19:57:00.001-08:002008-11-02T20:24:28.055-08:00Amazon Giveaway Winner!Well, I procrastinated this all day because I was scared the random number generator would give me a super high number and I'd have to count comments all the way up to 500. I finally bit the bullet and generated the number - it was 139. Luckily, right after that I noticed how to collapse the comments so they were in a big easy to read list. And THEN I re-sized my window so it was 20 comments long and it wasn't hard to count at all.<br /><br />Like you care though, right? You just want to me to say the winner so you don't have to figure it out yourselves. The winner is Linda of <a href="http://linduhe.blogspot.com/">Another Piece of the Pie</a>. I zipped over there to check out her site and she did such a fun drawing, writing all of her entries onto cards and then pulling the winner out of a jack-o-lantern.<br /><br />After I saw that I wished I'd drawn our winner out of a pumpkin. I'm afraid I'm way too perfectly normal (meaning not nearly as fun or creative) for handwritten notes or jack-o-lantern drawings though, at least tonight. <br /><br />My husband decided to whisk the sleeping baby off my lap earlier tonight and stash him in his crib where he would remain conveniently asleep until his (meaning my husband's) Plan A was accomplished. Unfortunately, whisking and stashing are not high on the baby's list of things he likes to do, so Plan A backfired and resulted in an hour of crying, inconsolable baby.<br /><br />Since my Plan A was hold the sleeping baby on my lap while I wrote for a quiet hour, I didn't interfere. After a (very frustrating for him I'm sure) while, he returned the baby to my lap and vanished into some other part of the house, probably to work on plan B which I imagine is watch football and mope.<br /><br />But let's not talk about moping husbands. Let's check out <a href="http://linduhe.blogspot.com/">Linda's site</a> which looks like another blog I'm going to have to start following. Maybe she can use her prize to buy that super cute kitchen for her daughter.<br /><br />Thanks everyone for participating in our contest. I hope we'll see you again soon here at Perfectly Normal!RainyPMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06236256948179373338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-73280187680993473392008-11-01T13:52:00.000-07:002008-11-01T14:15:13.194-07:00Christmas shopping the Halloween salesI went in to Target this morning to pick up some discount Halloween decorations for a party next year. (Look at me being all optimistic and organized, haha.)<br /><br />When I got to the Halloween section it was just crammed full of Halloween kid costumes all marked 50% off or more. My 4-year-old's FAVORITE thing in the world is playing dress-up. It was like the discount Christmas shopping jackpot! She'll be getting costumes to dress up as Batgirl, an angel (which with a veil can also be a bride), a flapper dancer, a(nother) princess, and Cleopatra.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2aX2fDeIiWPypW5hH2KOGez0VYc2LDD8uoi9yxqHPdX8TY4IHcW4XEe70cV28c9ZH14C5-4qANcrqjwu50LZtrEhDt_MYKOC2-faAXp247LxQ6dGl6NYNwrGW_Hj32QL_uI4dqd8ZbA/s1600-h/daphne.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2aX2fDeIiWPypW5hH2KOGez0VYc2LDD8uoi9yxqHPdX8TY4IHcW4XEe70cV28c9ZH14C5-4qANcrqjwu50LZtrEhDt_MYKOC2-faAXp247LxQ6dGl6NYNwrGW_Hj32QL_uI4dqd8ZbA/s320/daphne.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263800146129678514" /></a>She was actually there shopping with me, and we had such a great time trying all of the costumes on her. I wonder where she learned her vain strut, hair flipping and self-preening. It couldn't possibly be from me.<br /><br />After trying on so many costumes I had to get just one for her (I managed to buy the rest of the presents on the sly without her noticing). She opted for Daphne from Scooby Doo. Which, I should add, she wore for the rest of our errands today and is insisting on keeping on tonight for dinner out.RainyPMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06236256948179373338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-89656804138904622572008-10-31T12:59:00.000-07:002008-10-31T13:09:17.349-07:00Happy Halloween, now lets talk turkeyI know, I should have the decency to save this post til after Halloween. But I can't.<br /><br />Because, it's funny, and real.<br /><br />Thanksgiving is coming up.<br /><br />It's Hubby McRed's FAVORITE holiday because it contains two of his favorite things in the whole world: a Turkey Feast, and Football.<br /><br />I know this, I've known this since I met him.<br /><br />So you'd think with both his parents (divorced and remarried each) living here, we'd be in for two Turkey dinners... a Turkey Bonus Feast... something... but alas, no.<br /><br />His mom is having the holiday in early November, and, decided to do... HAM!!!! He was horrified. He despises ham.<br /><br />The other ones? They do a fancy Turkey feast. Homemade stuffing with walnuts, fresh green beans mixed with asparagus, but no green bean casserole, a 'turkey roast' that's lean and nice, healthy gravy... there won't be one 'bad' thing there. All the food will be fancy. Hoity Toity Turkey. Hoity Toity Feast.<br /><br />"I'm not going."<br /><br />"What?"<br /><br />"I can't go. I can't go there. I NEED Turkey, with stuffing, candied yams with too many marshmallows, green bean casserole, and NOT with the crappy low-sodium soup and NOT with fresh green beans. And piles of gravy. Piles and piles of it. I can't go and give up my Turkey Feast, I don't want healthy, good stuff. And I want leftovers. We can't go. You have to find a way to explain I can't go because I hate the food. I'm sorry, but you have to do damage control."<br /><br />Well. I may not be able to get the PR job I'm most certainly qualified for, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to use my mad damage control skills in times of crisis.<br /><br />The best damage control is preventative.<br /><br />"Okay honey, look. Here's what we do...<br /><br />"We go to your moms, and have her make you turkey cutlets, so you can eat.<br />"We tell your dad and step-mom you'll show up.<br />"The Sunday BEFORE Thanksgiving, we'll have our own feat. We'll do you up a Turkey, in the oven, with pan gravy, while you watch football all day. We'll buy bagged stuffing without walnuts, do mashed potatoes with way too much butter, candied yams with too many marshmallows, and green bean casserole. Even a pecan pie."<br /><br />"You'll do this for me?"<br /><br />"Yes."<br /><br />"And I can have leftovers for a whole week!"<br /><br />"Yes.... now, so... it's a big meal... do you want to invite any of our friends?"<br /><br />"WHAT? And give away my TURKEY FEAST?!!!?!?!?!"<br /><br />'No dear, of course not..."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-74472883228964992912008-10-30T22:16:00.001-07:002008-10-30T22:33:34.031-07:00My Little Commando<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiwdUFiEDyzcV6SdKao2GQ54_6CZGW5C9JvnZOt_-qSVZYtespiNZ50lILRH-4QZkEZP6PQrulxKJYFy_XLvDy8vVUYaAVY_0zWYZXvjKKVkyxbOLOFOzFhMYaPkaJVPFTO9kOzlp4eQ/s1600-h/schoolclothes.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiwdUFiEDyzcV6SdKao2GQ54_6CZGW5C9JvnZOt_-qSVZYtespiNZ50lILRH-4QZkEZP6PQrulxKJYFy_XLvDy8vVUYaAVY_0zWYZXvjKKVkyxbOLOFOzFhMYaPkaJVPFTO9kOzlp4eQ/s320/schoolclothes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263184143052096914" /></a>After my 4-year-old got home from preschool today I sent her to change into play clothes. The school clothes aren't really nicer, but they are all either brown/pink and they are for cold-weather. By sorting them like this and keeping them in their own drawers, she actually wears outfits to school that are season appropriate and sort of match.<br /><br />This little trick helps me avoid confrontations like the one we had to have over the outfit pictured here on the right, which was deemed (by her) appropriate to wear out shopping.<br /><br />In any case, after I asked her to change her clothes she showed up with a new outfit in hand and proceeded to change in front of me. I don't understand why she prefers to change in the room I'm in, but I don't question these things. <br /><br />What I DO question is why she went to preschool this morning without panties on. I had no idea until she changed her pants that she'd gone commando. Does this mean we're going to have to start doing panty-checks before she leaves the house?<br /><br />I can't even imagine what kind of clothes issues we're going to have when she's a teenager.RainyPMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06236256948179373338noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-32934292625980491162008-10-30T17:17:00.000-07:002008-10-30T17:31:28.830-07:00My Wedding Dress......zips up.<br /><br />BOOYAH.<br /><br />It's a silly tradition, I put my wedding dress on at some point on my wedding anniversary. Last anniversary, I was five months pregnant and wasn't zipping up anything except an oversized hoodie.<br /><br />Okay, so I can only hold my shoulders in one specific posture. But can't I blame that on temporarily enlarged nursing breasts? I mean, as soon as I'm back to flat chested fabulousness, it'll be zipping up and down like a toddler on diet cola. Probably.<br /><br />I'm not trying to lose weight. Whenever I try to lose weight I put on five pounds. I'm not trying to diet, either. If someone gives me a bag of Cranberry Moose Munch, clearly there is a divine hand pushing it towards me.<br /><br />I'm also not trying to care that things are just in new places. Like back fat. Why do I have these two little flaps of pudge on my back? I didn't carry the baby on my spine in some kind of camel's hump. And saddlebags. I'm sure I didn't have those before I had the baby, and again, I didn't have pregnant thighs, but there they are, little pony express bags.<br /><br />But as promised... nine months up, nine months down, not counting ten extra pounds. How long did it take you to lose that last ten after your baby? Did you ever lose it? Do you really care, deep down, as long as your old clothes can zip?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-52641721732305515122008-10-29T05:33:00.001-07:002008-10-29T06:28:05.268-07:00My Brain Is ColdThe house was freezing last night, and the wind was blustering like crazy. This morning, the entire outside world was glittering with frost, and the birds were fluffed up into feather puffballs in the trees.<br /><br />So when I went to get the kid ready for his walk, I went Stone Cold Mama. Socks. Thick, lined pants. Long sleeve onesie. Sweatshirt. Fleece slippers. Once all that was on, I wrapped his legs in an afghan, and stuffed the resulting burrito into the <a type="amzn" asin="B0000A340G">bunting</a> I'd already installed on the stroller.<br /><br />(Side note about his bunting: You see it in ads being used on the car seat bucket. We used it on his car seat when he was a newborn, but we realized that at the speed with which we raced from the car to wherever, we might as well skip it. I felt kind of stupid for wasting the money. However, it's really nice to have on the stroller - a blanket that can't be kicked off and is always tucked in - and the velcro openings are so flexible that it works on all of his strollers.)<br /><br />Then I popped a fleece lined knitted hat on his head, tucked a scarf around his neck, zipped him up with his hands inside the bunting, and went outside.<br /><br />We promptly came back, so I could put on shoes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-32274813790022028602008-10-28T06:53:00.000-07:002008-10-28T07:15:20.418-07:00Amazon GiveawayIt's a week of giveaways over at <a href="http://www.donttrythisathome.typepad.com/bloggy_giveaways/">Bloggy Giveaways</a> and we want in on the fun! We're giving away a $40 <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Amazon-com-Gift-Card/dp/B00067L6TQ">giftcard to Amazon</a> just in time to use for holiday shopping or maybe a fun splurge for you.<br /><br />All you have to do is leave us a comment and you're entered. Easy!<br /><br />If you want to score an extra chance to win, subscribe to the blog and leave another comment saying that you did.<br /><br />For a third chance, you can do anything you want to give us a shout out, whether it's a link on your own blog, a Stumble, Digg or Twitter, adding us to your blogroll, whatever you want. Just add one more comment letting us know what you did.<br /><br />This giveaway is open until midnight EST on Saturday, Nov 1. We'll pick a winner at random and then contact you by email to let you know you won, and we'll post who the winner was as well.<br /><br />Good luck! And once the contest is over and you are recovered from entering so many giveaways (I know I'm exhausted anyway!) we hope you'll stop by Perfectly Normal again.RainyPMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06236256948179373338noreply@blogger.com557tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-19207089099881562022008-10-21T16:56:00.001-07:002008-10-21T17:20:07.720-07:00What's In YOUR... Diaper Bag?This was a thread on a mama message board I was reading today. Here's what I posted:<br /><br />For errand running, I have a <a type="amzn" asin="B000BO3E4Y">nifty little thing that looks like a large wallet or a small purse</a>. It unfolds into a changing pad, and has a pocket for a diaper, a few wipes, and a clean shirt. For the baby, not me.<br /><br />For occasions when I'll be gone for half the day, away from running water, or out to a restaurant, I have a diaper bag. It contains:<br /><br />Four diapers<br />Wipes<br />Clean shirt<br />Clean socks (the "heel strike into poop" is his best karate move)<br />Two small toys that only come out at restaurants<br />A plastic grocery bag<br />A flannel receiving blanket (it's a blanket! It's a burp cloth! It's a DESSERT TOPPING!)<br />Hand sanitizer<br />Hat<br />Pashima (acts as a second blanket, a nursing cover up if he gets too distracted to eat properly, or, when artistically draped about my person, covers my leaking personal bits and/or baby hork and/or pee s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZSeDh8IwGh0ORejtm3DW_mspVK6pey-hDZ1bTIagQcA89L-pf9OmAumU_ovzWuug3gYuYzUNHlIEVqfucK-bbcqXfAYjQ2X7ghOeiaX_en9i8go-nuyZk05SYKAw9lXmegISxzZQqpEA/s1600-h/baby+shopping+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZSeDh8IwGh0ORejtm3DW_mspVK6pey-hDZ1bTIagQcA89L-pf9OmAumU_ovzWuug3gYuYzUNHlIEVqfucK-bbcqXfAYjQ2X7ghOeiaX_en9i8go-nuyZk05SYKAw9lXmegISxzZQqpEA/s200/baby+shopping+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259762126804404242" border="0" /></a>pray)<br /><br />Now that it's cold, I keep a little sweater in there as well as the clean onesie, since he's a thousand times more likely to spill or spew on his sweater than his shirt. One of the side pockets has sanitary napkins, lip balm, and nursing pads.<br /><br />And of course, I never carry a purse when I've got the diaper bag - I just transfer my cell, wallet, and a little travel hairbrush over to the outside pocket.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-89701733083366796962008-10-21T06:31:00.001-07:002008-10-21T06:56:49.471-07:00Me? Attachment parent? Co-sleeper in Denial?"I don't believe in attachment parenting," I explained to Rainy. "I envision my two boys clinging to me perpetually."<br /><br />"You so do believe in attachment parenting, it's what you do, and you're so in co-sleeping denial," she said.<br /><br />Co-sleeping denial.<br /><br />I thought about that, at 2 a.m., when my little Bear stretched out his legs into my back. He had started the night falling asleep in our bed with his brother, Turbo, and then, after they fell asleep, Hubby McRed moved them to their bed. Around midnight or 1 a.m., little Bear came crawling into our bed. Usually, within the hour he's followed by Turbo. It's the rare night only one shows up, an even rarer night none show up til morning. They do it so often that it's very common for me to not wake up when they show up, only to find them in the morning, the cause of my aching lower back and drooled-on pillow. One will take my side, and the other will shoo Hubby McRed over and take his side. Usually, it's Turbo on Hubby McRed's side, and there is often a little altercation, whereas Grumpy Hubby McRed tells Turbo to go to his own bed if he doesn't like it and Turbo tells Grumpy Hubby McRed to just scooch OVER.<br /><br />But we didn't start this way. They were in bassinets by our bed and occasionally in our bed for the first three or four months, then it was the crib. It wasn't until we turned the cribs to toddler beds that suddenly, we had nightly visitors. At first, like all parents defending their territory, we resisted. We would get up, carry them back to their bed, determined to have our own space. I mean, we only have a Queen! But they'd come back. And stealthily. They'd be quiet, and crawl in the center, where at 4 a.m., when we found them, we were just too tired to move. Or, on the edge of the bed, teetering precariously, clutching their little blankies, looking so cute and fragile we'd make room for them, lest they fall and hit their cute little heads.<br /><br />I concede the point, we're co-sleepers, in denial.<br /><br />But what about this whole 'attachment parenting' thing?<br /><br />I found a blog that defined it finally. This <a href="http://www.apparenting.com/what_is_attachment_parenting.html">blog</a> was a totally random find, but it defined attachment parenting.<br /><br />Attachment parenting is the backlash against uber-independence in our younger kids. Independence is great, but not for a four year old, not really. There's nothing wrong with keeping our young kids close to us. It's how families were meant to exist: in close proximity, where the young can be protected, nourished and nurtured, where they can feel safe, and the parents can grab them if you know, a sabre-tooth tiger came along, or big huge Vikings with axes... close proximity was key to a family's survival, but it also provided the children the basic needs they have for safety, love, nourishment and security -- the very needs that, when met, create a strong core of self, a foundation where great independence can be built, where they can then, on this foundation of love, safety and security in youth, build their own character, and forge their own lives, and go off merrily knowing that at the center of their being is the strength of their family.<br /><br />Attatchment parents carry their babies in slings for, like, EVER. Well, I toted Turbo in a sling, while bouncing Bear in his bouncer with my foot. I took turns holding them in my lap when I worked part-time from home, at the computer, and yes, even while 'relaxing' and playing games, they were on my lap, occasionally causing my in-game character to, well, die. So yes, I am a big believer in that. I lugged my boys around forEVER. Ask my friends. Or any of my neighbors, who've seen me carry both boys at the same time. They were always, and still are, close to me. If I sat on the couch, I'd get mobbed by my twins, and my elder was often referred to as Klingon, as in 'Cling-On' for all the times she was also physically attached to me in her younger years.<br /><br />Attachment parents extend breast-feeding. I didn't, but I would have liked to. But for the most part, I fed them while holding them, and did breast-feed for, oh, well, a bit....<br /><br />Non-violence toward children -- well, duh.<br /><br />I also didn't do pre-school. I felt there wasn't a real 'need' for it as long as they were getting social interaction with other children. They got tons of that. Now, they are in pre-kindergarten, and the lack of former pre-school's hasn't affected them in the least. In fact, most parents comment to me on how well my sons play with others, with each other, and how well-mannered and behaved they are (for the most part, they are after all, four year old boys).<br /><br />When one of our sons are sick, he will spend an extended period in our bed before we move him to his own bed. It's so we can monitor him, his breathing, his fever, and it isn't until we're satisfied that his fever is down, his breathing is regular, and he's able to sleep, that we'll bring him back to his bed. (Of course, he does return to ours, so it's rather silly to move him, but hey..._<br /><br />As for television? Oh sure! DEFINITELY! But, not a lot. And no commercials. Only mom-approved shows. And lots of trains. I concede more attachment parents probably let their kids watch less television than I do, but we do truly limit our kids television to about an hour a day... I know I know, they don't even need it, and we work on it, but, remember, I'm in denial about my attachment parenting and co-sleeping, so there.<br /><br />So, yes. I guess Rainy's right.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-48729715077475762862008-10-17T06:58:00.000-07:002008-10-17T07:34:21.454-07:00Mesh MadnessI got a <a type="amzn" asin="B000056JCY">mesh feeder</a>, despite mixed reviews from my friends. Hey, it was on sale. I wasn't overly excited about it, given that the boy has no interest in self-feeding. Also, he's really not terribly oral. I know some babies put everything in their mouths, and he'll give some things an experimental chomp, but the default move for him is grabbing and thumping, not grabbing and biting.<br /><br />Also, I'm afraid to give him chunks of anything with more texture than an avocado. And he is his father's son, and hates avocado. If the moment of his birth wasn't seared into my brain forever ("you forget the pain of your dainty bits stretching beyond all recognition" is a total LIE, just so you know), I would question his being mine. How did I make a baby who doesn't like avocado? Anyway, I'm nervous about choking, and I'd feel better about letting him try more stuff if it were in something safe like a mesh feeder.<br /><br />Oh, my goodness, but this is the most fun thing since putting peanut butter on the dog's nose. Not that we did that more than once and we're very, very sorry, please do not tell me how horrible I am.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-zI1S3VShI77c-hokwdSCbChuMGvGJM1VumGMjyb7t69cA28_KHDUfmiruEpdHMmP1f0ErH7Bb-bzPoFg7XkXplO-dStxOP7JmOvXEINTUZ4i8NsJzVQxNYy3jhCsOr9ML5VYNdVRkbL/s1600-h/meshfeeder.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-zI1S3VShI77c-hokwdSCbChuMGvGJM1VumGMjyb7t69cA28_KHDUfmiruEpdHMmP1f0ErH7Bb-bzPoFg7XkXplO-dStxOP7JmOvXEINTUZ4i8NsJzVQxNYy3jhCsOr9ML5VYNdVRkbL/s320/meshfeeder.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258123800816202066" border="0" /></a><br />The first thing we tried was carrot. I keep carrots in the fridge, so they're nice and cold. This one was peeled, which seemed to help him figure out that the end result would have the same smell as the stuff in the jars.<br /><br />You would not think someone with three teeth could damage a carrot by much, would you? Listen, wolverines do less damage to weak, drugged cows tied to a stake.<br /><br />He made these little "narf narf narf" noises, and had this vaguely feral expression on his face the whole time.<br /><br />Next we tried apple ("honey crisp" apples from the farm stand). He loves applesauce, so we figured this couldn't go wrong. The look on his face at the crispy crunch noise that his three teeth made was priceless. I was a little surprised that two tiny chunks of apple could create enough liquid to soak the onesie from the neck all the way to the waist of his pants. But he was thrilled.<br /><br />The next night I gave him some refrigerated apple. He was totally uninterested until it warmed up, and then he dove on it like a starving jackal dives on a discarded hamburger. All that was left in the bag was the peel.<br /><br />We took him to the pediatrician yesterday, and I mentioned our adventures in mesh feeding. She told me to try... pickle.<br /><br />What?<br /><br />She swore up and down that she'd never met a baby who didn't adore a dill pickle. She said she recommended cold whole ones for teething.<br /><br />All we had at home were dill slices for hamburgers. But I popped two of them into the bag, and handed it over.<br /><br />He grabbed it with a gleeful shriek and bit down. Clearly he had been expecting fruit or vegetable - you know, the only stuff besides breastmilk that he'd ever eaten in his life? He took it out of his mouth and looked at it. Tried it again. Stared again. And then he went to freaking TOWN. He managed to get every molecule of pickle out of the bag, too.<br /><br />Try it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-9809904574666206412008-10-07T15:45:00.000-07:002008-10-07T16:07:49.195-07:00What Would It Take To Make Breastfeeding the Norm?I've <a href="http://perfectnormal.blogspot.com/2008/07/breastfeeding-give-it-thirty-days.html">posted before about breastfeeding</a>, and how it's okay not to be all delirious with joy. I mentioned in that same post that La Leche League kinda bugs me. However, as part of my job today I was explaining that in order to win a fight, you must establish your position as the norm, and the opponent's position as substandard. It helps if your opponent's position really IS substandard.<br /><br />Then I remembered I GOT that from LLL. It was <a href="http://www.lalecheleague.org.nz/documents/Diane_Wiessinger_article.pdf">an essay on making breastfeeding the norm</a>.<br /><br />I haven't changed my mind, by the way. I ended my last post on this topic by pointing out that formula isn't rat poison. If you really tried breastfeeding (REALLY tried, with support and helpful books and lactation consultants), sometimes you still gotta choose formula - and you have the right not to feel guilty about it.<br /><br />But you have the right to feel angry about not being allowed resources to learn, and the time to do it. I was talking with another friend today about how our society fetishizes motherhood, but only if the mother in question asks nothing of society in return.<br /><br />It took THIRTY DAYS for me, a brand new mother who had never seen regular breastfeeding, and only two friends in the universe who'd even tried, to establish a nursing relationship that didn't make me want to scream. It took longer to figure it all out, to learn the holds and the positions, to learn the baby's cues and my needs, to find our rhythm. As a consultant who works from home, I had to be back at work after three weeks, but I didn't have to disrupt the nursing process. I had the luxury of being able to offer milk every time he asked for it, and this developed my supply and our trust in each other.<br /><br />He was four months old before I had to leave him for more than an hour.<br /><br />You think I'd still be exclusively breastfeeding my eight month old without all those advantages? I don't.<br /><br />And yet maternity leave is six weeks long if the mother is lucky. She can have three months if she's willing to go a month without pay. Any woman who suggests that a European model is healthier for the infant, for the mother, and for society is a scumwad pinko commie who wants higher taxes and to eat bonbons at the expense of the working man.<br /><br />My breastfed infant will get sick less often. He and I will both have long term benefits that have accrued from nursing. If we only consider our lessened impact on health insurance premiums, we've given back to society the money it would have taken to pay me for a real maternity leave. If I'm spared the various cancers that breastfeeding wards off, society could have taken the money it would have spent on the treatments and given my husband another week to get to know his son.<br /><br />Breast is not best - breast is the norm. And parenthood is not a fetish, it's a societal benefit.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-32972530420722723812008-10-06T21:27:00.000-07:002008-10-06T21:28:03.692-07:00The current financial market situation explained to children...and Chicken Little ran into Henny Penny... Henny Penny, Henny Penny, the sky is falling the sky is falling....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-29534739896679174132008-09-30T08:48:00.000-07:002008-09-30T10:07:52.906-07:00Fear of Flying, VanquishedWe went to visit Gramma and Grandpa. I would normally call them "Mom and Dad," except that I no longer exist for my parents. My function is strictly to accompany The First Grandchild to their home, and then allow them to snuggle him and pinch his fat little cheeks.<br /><br />If you think this bothers me, you did not see the speed at which the mate and I raced for the door and out to a restaurant sans offspring.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Gramma and Grandpa live a four hour plane ride from here. The prospect of flying with a baby horrified me when we first contemplated the matter. I am told I screamed bloody murder from Bangkok to LA as a six month old, and I was pretty sure karma was going to kick my ass and use my eight month old as the foot.<br /><br />But it went pretty well, as it happens. It helps that the flight home was absolutely packed with infants and toddlers - count 'em SEVEN rugrats under the age of two within five rows of each other - so when our little miracle decided to see if the Shriek button went to eleven, no one even noticed.<br /><br />Here's what we did:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPPFtddRpW8RxkA-3hd91czceMI4GPYR1UYvA7PkjYKAM576USsE8WsgxbVg47j2lKUYpJ9DBn3yJ97vR4RH9R1LliHFbbwhoXzsnHmm1M5cNS8vhr3SNkUBRWHp_RgKPzFlG38qUKzDq/s1600-h/seat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPPFtddRpW8RxkA-3hd91czceMI4GPYR1UYvA7PkjYKAM576USsE8WsgxbVg47j2lKUYpJ9DBn3yJ97vR4RH9R1LliHFbbwhoXzsnHmm1M5cNS8vhr3SNkUBRWHp_RgKPzFlG38qUKzDq/s320/seat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251861476747461378" border="0" /></a><br />- We did not buy him a ticket. Instead, we took his birth certificate to the airport and got a "non ticketed passenger document." That's the airport term for "lap baby." In hindsight... we should have shelled out the dough for a seat. He finally started sitting unassisted a few weeks ago, and as you know, any time they learn something new, that's all they want to do. Sitting on laps is for <span style="font-style: italic;">babies</span>. We spent some time standing in the aisle so he could have the seat.<br /><br />- I wore him in the <a type="amzn" asin="B0017QFDOE">Ergo</a> from the minute we got out of the car until the final, preboarding diaper change. That got him all warm and relaxed, instead of amped up and ready to party.<br /><br />- I skipped a feeding on the ground to make him hungry in the air. Wearing him and walking around distracts him. It doesn't work for long, but it worked long enough that when I offered him milk as the plane was taking off, he hit it like a starving trout on a handtied fly. Between the Ergo and the milk overload, he was out for ninety minutes. And if he noticed his ears popping on the way up, he didn't say anything about it.<br /><br />(Bonus tip: Wear nursing pads. The pressure changes cause even my non-leaky breasts to squirt.)<br /><br />- I told our seatmate not to worry about noise, because I was going to be nursing the baby. I asked the person in front of us to please tell us if his seat got kicked, because we were teaching our son not to kick seats. This was to establish a friendly connection, lay out our plans, and let them know that we were doing our best. It certainly pre-empted any angst.<br /><br />- Restaurant toys were in the seat pocket. We have three little toys that only come out at restaurants, so they're always super awesome fun. The mate fastened his wallet leash onto one of them for bonus fun.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVSvwjm-Tlges63p-dd9cCIJnta4nkR72ykJwzHzPgzluvumpxreHaCcbl5CzbBqdjZLbwRGlj3kk1VtnKh2kGqFVZHyTkLciGJK7jnF11RgON30obs_ba2JCElsfEqWqZwGQBbkpUuAQ/s1600-h/peanut.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 167px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVSvwjm-Tlges63p-dd9cCIJnta4nkR72ykJwzHzPgzluvumpxreHaCcbl5CzbBqdjZLbwRGlj3kk1VtnKh2kGqFVZHyTkLciGJK7jnF11RgON30obs_ba2JCElsfEqWqZwGQBbkpUuAQ/s320/peanut.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251861634948299154" border="0" /></a><br />- Everything is in fact a toy. Crinkly peanut packets are swell toys. So is a partially flattened water bottle with a few peanuts inside and the cap screwed back on. I'm not ashamed to admit that the flattened, rattling bottle was my dog's teething toy of choice. That's how I knew it would work for my son.<br /><br />- Trips to the galley are great fun. Also, gleeful shrieking and gabble are cute in the galley in a way that they are So Not Cute in your little narrow coach seat across from another baby who has finally fallen asleep.<br /><br />- As soon as the pilot said he was descending, I started nursing. Again, if he noticed his ears popping, he didn't mention it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-91012301575431229842008-09-26T07:55:00.000-07:002008-09-26T07:56:51.729-07:00A Food ConfessoinI love raw eggs.<br /><br />Well, they might as well be raw. I like my eggs so undercooked that there's barely a thickening of the coat on top of the yolk.<br /><br />If my white isn't slightly less than firm, and my yellow isn't running like a river over my toast, it's cooked too much.<br /><br />Yes, I eat dangerously.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-90189255940640703322008-09-24T17:10:00.000-07:002008-09-24T17:13:21.640-07:00Brilliant dinner ideas!During the week, you'd think a mom who stay home would have time to cook dinner.<br /><br />HA!<br /><br />So, for those moms who don't stay home, and who do stay home, and who live in a constant state in between home and somewhere else, here's my latest brilliant idea!<br /><br />It always involves the crock pot, mind you. The crock pot is a great invention, whoever thought of it deserves to be sainted.<br /><br />Anyhow, we always do a Sunday Crock Pot Chili, and then eat the leftovers another night.<br />So, on Saturday, I can prepare a crock pot meal and NOT eat it... then, I have two weeknight meals in tupperware in the fridge waiting for the day when I realize it's 5:30, and I've just BEGUN to think of dinner.<br /><br />Anyone else have any better, or good, easy dinner ideas that don't involve processed foods? :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-27874555665535420582008-09-22T08:38:00.000-07:002008-09-22T08:54:22.103-07:00Wall Street -- why moms should careOkay, okay that sounds a bit funny, doesn't it?<br /><br />Moms should care about Wall Street. Everyone should care, and I believe most people do, but we're in a watching state. We are aware of the giant catastrophe that is our financial sector, we are aware that it got this way only because of gross mismanagement, greed and incompetence. And we're about to give the industry 700 billion dollars. But, this post really isn't about Wall Street.<br /><br />It's about what moms should take from this financial garbage heap we're in. It's about how to shape our children's future, and how we need, some of us, to reconsider how we handle our money.<br /><br />We need to rethink how much we give our children. We want them to have all the best, fun stuff, we want them to enjoy the luxuries of modern technology -- from Ipods to MP3 players to lap tops to game consoles -- we want them to enjoy the clothes they own -- designer clothes, pricey tops, the 'in look,' we want all of that for them. Maybe it's not so good for them, though. Lets face it, one of the top target markets are our children. Yes, our children! Not the moms who shop for them (and any dads that may) but the children themselves.<br /><br />Maybe, just maybe we should take that power back. Now, I'm not saying this is going to save Wall Street. But it just might save our children. Which, in turn, might save America, because it's our children, with the financial lessons we instill in them (or don't instill) that will one day be working on Wall Street.<br /><br /> Lets look at what our children do to earn their extras. Lets look at the financial responsibility we place on our children (be honest, I know some people do marvelous jobs of teaching their children finanical responsibility, but if alll of us moms did, frankly, companies wouldn't be targeting our children). Lets teach them now, the lessons that we keep getting slapped with by our government, Wall Street, and our own financial habits.<br /><br />Lets teach our children to take care of their finances now. Lets redefine American consumerism. Lets not be such blatantly easy targets for corporations to market stuff we don't need or even really value. Then, when our children grow up, maybe, when the ones who go to Wall Street get there, they will take with them sound financial principles taught in their own homes.<br /><br />What do you say?<br /><br />And, now, returning to the topic of Wall Street, do you think they could spare about 15K for me? You know, maybe one of the jerks who got us into this mess could take a 15K hit on what is sure to be a whopping compensation package funded by us, the taxpayers, and just hand it over to me. Since we're stuck with helping them stay comfortable as they leave Wall Street. And, just one more small thought... could we exile them from Wall Street, and put restrictions on how much money they are allowed to handle? You know, to keep them from jumping right back in and destroying our financial markets some more?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-45146159670520030932008-09-15T22:04:00.001-07:002008-09-15T22:09:01.033-07:00Planets aligning in perfect pet harmonySomething has happened in the cosmos.<br /><br />Something strange. Something... a harbringer, a sign, a message from the Creator of the Universe itself...<br /><br />and we'd all be fools to ignore it.<br /><br />My cat, the vicious old fart, and my dog, the crazy spastic gal, are co-existing on the same floor as I am...<br /><br />This can only mean a few things...<br /><br />a) The earth has tilted on it's axis slightly, throwing off my cat's inner hate beacon.<br /><br />b) the third horseman from the four horseman of the apocylypse is about to arrive, shortly followed by the other three (but don't panic, they have to make it through customs first)<br /><br />c) the lion has laid down with the lamb, which can only mean d will occur.<br /><br />d) a comet is going to fly really close to our planet and set us into an early ice age.<br /><br />Yes, it's that big.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7967718850640386933.post-48708438113020861662008-09-15T07:38:00.000-07:002008-09-15T07:51:41.676-07:00Dear children,I am asking, begging, no, pleading with you...<br /><br />Can you please wake up in the mornings? Is it so hard?<br /><br />Why must I grab the foot that is hanging over the loft bed and shake, pull and prod it just to get a response? You must get up preferably at 6, at least by 6:30, and go to school at 7 every morning five days out of the week. You would think that you'd get up naturally, or with a little less prodding.<br /><br />And Bear, why, why must I cajole you out of bed? Why do you need to come crawl into our bed in the morning before you will even entertain the idea of waking up. I'm not even sure you open your eyes on the way to our room. Why must I spend so much time convincing you getting out of bed is a good idea?<br /><br />Now, Turbo, you are my exception. And I hate to mention you, because you are like the sun. You rise every morning, bright eyed and cheery, ready for anything... school, gymnastics, the hordes of Attila the Hun, anything... and Ipromise you I am not complaining or whining one bit. But I just ask one small concession. Before you inflict your cheery, bright-eyed gonna go tackle the day gleefully attitude on me, could you, you know, let me have some coffee first?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2