A Wee Weenie Post
Jul 30th
I like to think that I’m one tough mother. I’m pretty humble about most things. I get embarrassed by compliments. I downplay accomplishments. But I’ll tell anyone who will listen, or anyone who won’t (“Gigi, quit drinking the pool water!”), that I have an abnormally high tolerance for pain. I base this on a few key events in my life:
- I once took a hit off of a helium tank when I was eight, blacked out and ran around my friend’s driveway until I decided that I could in fact fly and landed squarely on my face (unfortunately for me, it was 1985 and the #1 movie at the time was Mask);
- I broke my foot during a college basketball game and continued to play on it through Double Overtime (in my memory, we will always have won that game, so don’t ask.);
- I gave birth while having intense back labor and FOUR failed epidural attempts (my legs felt nothing, but my vajayjay felt everything. All 7 lbs. 11 oz. of everything);
- That whole ruptured disc in the back, fragments pressing on nerve, Vicodin Summer of 2009 thing (I can’t even go to April-June of my Flickr account without convulsing at the memory).
Yee. (shudder)
Yet through all of that, and I never shed a tear. So I was a little surprised at myself when I got weepy during the third hour of my root canal today. Somehow the third hour at Dr. Truong’s office isn’t nearly as entertaining as the fourth hour of The Today Show. There was less Chardonnay and more tears.
I pushed aside my horrible community Blue Blockers, dabbed around my carefully applied smoky eye makeup (oh so necessary for early morning endodontics) and felt like a weenie.
And then I came home to sip my smoothie lunch and was treated to this display of Lulu’s, otherwise known as “7 lb. 11 oz. of everything,”
She was entertaining herself by crowing, “WEENIE!!!”
“WEENIE!” Yeah, yeah. That’s cute.
“WEENIE!!!” Okay, get it out of your system.
“WEENIE!!!” Now I’m having flashbacks of the Theta Chi house, self-medicating after a broken foot, naturally.
“Weenie.” The shoulder shrug of indifference just hurts.
I’m think I’m going to cry.
* What do you think of my new header? If you don’t like it, let me know…and then design me a better one.
* My recipe page is up-to-date. Check it out. Don’t be a weenie.
That’s Knot Funny
Jul 29th
I love being a stay-at-home mom. I really do. But some days, I feel like my brain is eating itself. And it’s severely malnourished. It doesn’t help that Lulu woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
I am all for letting my children have a sense of control and a sense of identity. But there was no sense behind Lulu’s complaint at 7 a.m. that she didn’t want a Princess pullup, she wanted a Dora pullup. Okay, I’ll let you have that one. But then when you complain that you do not want the Dora pullup that depicts the precocious seven-year old chica with a bouquet of flowers, but that you want me to dig through the 34 remaining pullups to find a Dora wearing a yellow dress? That’s not funny. That’s where I draw the line. That’s when you throw a hissy fit. That’s when I draw the sign.
Lulu decided that if she couldn’t crank, she would prank:
Chewing half a pack of gum when I was making lunch.
Not funny.
Then turning lunch into a jelly finger painting project.
At least she offered to share, but still, not funny.
We needed to get out of the house. I promised to take the girls to the park so they could run around and get out the excess energy that was causing them to wrestle and lick each other, tear open stevia packets and dump them on the counter, and take off that second-rate Dora pullup and walk around without pants for nearly a half an hour. She showed me.
Only when we finally had pants on and headed out the door, we discovered it was pouring down rain.
REALLY not funny.
Plan B: expressing ourselves in dough. We’d done this before. I threw together a batch of Soft Pretzel dough and we got to work.
I went with the traditional twist.
Lulu said she wanted to make a “lawn chair.”
And Gigi said she was going to make “Beezus,” as in Ramona and Beezus. I have to admit, I was pretty impressed.
Lulu’s lawn chair didn’t exactly pan out.
Not funny.
We then boiled the dough.
I was afraid of what would happen when Beezus hit the hot tub.
Beezus instantly became “Bob.”
After 12 minutes of baking…
the day seemed instantly better. Lulu agreed.
Now THAT’S funny.
Totally Quoteable
Jul 28th
The day was totally quotable.
During the morning workout:
Gigi: “You want your abs to burn like a fire!” She’s right. Someone should card her for that six pack.
When I discovered that someone had unfurled an entire roll of toilet paper and asked who did it:
Lulu: “I did it! But the lady comes to clean our house…” Oooh, why I oughta….
After I asked Gigi why she had the DVD player remote outside:
Gigi: “Mother! I have some very important calls to make.” I hope she’s calling someone to come put the toilet paper back on the roll.
After putting on our swimsuits to play in the pool:
Lulu: “But someone torn my swimsuit in two!” You can see her training with Gigi is paying off.
When I asked the girls what we should have for a snack:
Gigi: “Let’s make granilla!” Granilla it is.
Multigrain Pomegranate Granilla
- 2 1/2 c. mulitgrain hot cereal (rye, barley, oats, wheat) or rolled oats
- 1/2 c. chopped almonds
- 2 t. cinnamon
- 1/2 t. salt
- 1/3 c. dried pomegranate seeds (can sub cranberries, raisins or dried fruit of your choice)
- 1/3 c. apple juice
- 1/3 c. maple syrup
- 1/4 c. organic brown sugar
- 1 t. vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl combine cereal, almonds, cinnamon, salt and pomegranate seeds.
In a liquid measuring cup, combine apple juice, syrup, brown sugar and vanilla and stir until sugar has dissolved.
Pour wet ingredients over the cereal mixture and stir until combined.
Spread granola on a baking sheet that has been sprayed with cooking spray. Bake for 25 minutes, stirring every ten minutes.
We ate our granola in parfaits, layered with vanilla soy yogurt and strawberries.
“Yum!”
And then last night after the girls went to bed:
Pea Daddy: “Want to watch Hot Tub Time Machine?”
Some things are better left unsaid. And unwatched. Pea Daddy is banned from picking movies for at least a month. You can quote me on that.
