Les Miserables: Master (s) of the House

So this week, Jeff had to leave town for a GM convention for several days. The evening before he left, he called the boys over, telling him he had to have a very important talk with them.

"Oh, no," I rolled my eyes -- I'm very big into eye-rolling; I think by now the strongest muscles in my body are ocular -- "not the 'Man of the House' talk."

Jeff is always amazed by my powers to predict the present: "How did you know?" A large part of prediction is based on predictability, let's let it go at that.

To be fair, since they were born only seven minutes apart, we couldn't really choose the oldest, so we decided they would take turns. They weren't really too excited about their new title, as Jeff explained to them their temporary new responsibilities helping Mommy out.

From the sidelines, I called out, "Remember boys, with great power..."

"Comes great responsibility!" they responded in unison. It's a Spider-Man thing. But still, no great enthusiasm for this great new honor, until... Jeff told them that the Man of the House gets to stay up later than the other children. With this carrot, I was promised children who would make their beds every morning, clean up after themselves, help fold laundry, take out garbage, and treat each other with nothing but the utmost love and respect. What I got was two boys who alternately threatened to send the other to bed eleventeen hours early, and the need to explain to every neighbor and Jehovah's witness that came within 300 yards of our house why my five year old son was telling them he is the Man of the House.

Next business trip, I think it's only fair that Mao gets a turn as Mistress of the House. And when that day comes, I pray that I'll be the one going on a business trip.

Leftover Leftover Leftovers

I think I have achieved leftover nirvana. I hate to throw away good food, but if I couldn't sell it the first time around, I don't hold out much hope for selling out the house on an encore performance. So I get creative. This week, we had a few cups of white rice, a cup of sweet peas, and a wee bit of marinara and sloppy joe meat sauce loitering in the fridge. I grabbed a couple pounds of ground beef, a couple of eggs, mixed the whole lot of them together and made a 13x9 pan of what I expected to be meatloaf. Oh, and of course I smothered it in the obligatory family-sized can of condensed tomato soup. I realize this may be another of my throwing good money after bad experiments, but I am an optimist at heart.

I presented this meal, which didn't hold together too well due to all the rice, to a mediocre reception. I had a whole pan of it, so I offered it the next couple of days. "Not this again!!"

So, tonight, realizing too late that I didn't have as much chicken as I thought I did, I grabbed a big bowl, scooped a bunch of "meatloaf" into it, and nuked it. Then I covered the top in mustard and ketchup, stirred it up, and told the kids we were having "Hamburgers in a Bowl." You know what? It worked. The only negative comment was from John, who thought it needed more peas. Okay, John, I'll remember that the next time I make you a regular hamburger.

You know, if I just whipped up some mashed potatoes, I could probably turn the remaining leftover leftover leftovers into a shepherd's pie....

Me Time

It isn't always about the kids... lately I have stolen a few moments here and there to do a little reading. Jeff was kind enough to bring me a new Nora Roberts book several weeks ago when I was feeling under the weather, and I finally got around to reading it. Romance novels are a guilty little pleasure, and I find I get more laughs reading them than reading the Sunday comics. I mean, for God's sake people, what are the odds of three sisters in their late twenties/early thirties all finding true love for the first time with their virginity still intact?

Anyway, I came across this gem, thanks to Becka, surfer extraordinairre, and had to share:

http://www.worldoflongmire.com/features/romance_novels/index.htm





Enjoy!

The Joy of Preservatives

Chris and I just made a white cake from a box mix. After I made it, I noticed a little packet of coupons still in the box. I looked through them, and in the back, with an offer of a free cookbook, was the notice that the offer expires September 30, 1994. That means that this box of cake mix has been through at least three moves with me. But you know what? It was delicious. And before you cluck your tongue at me for making box cake... I did make the cream cheese frosting from scratch. Partial credit. But now I'm wondering how long that confectioners' sugar has been in the pantry. And is vanilla supposed to be fizzy?

What's in your... pocket?

The weather has been so beautiful this week, we have spent most of our days outside. Digging in the dirt, racing up and down the driveway, practicing stopping within the safety zone, hunting down the elusive neighbor cat. After yesterday's adventures in raking, today John discovered a dandelion. He promptly approached all of us to test if we like butter. When he was ready to resume his super-speed bike race up and down the driveway, he gently handed me his dandelion. Not wanting to be in charge of the survival of the dandelion, I reached to put it into the chest pocket of his overalls, when I was stopped in my tracks with a screeching "NOOOO!!! That's where the WORMS are!!"

Magic

My son asked me if we were going out today. "You mean outside? Sure, if you want to." "Well, I don't want to, because I want to stay in [my shark pajammies] until Easter." "Honey, you can't wear the same clothes for a week. By the time you take them off, they'll probably stand up and walk away by themselves." "How?"

He believed me. But this doesn't surprise me. This is the boy who still looks for a four-leafed clover every time he goes outside so that he can wish himself into a cat. We have long discussions about what his life will be like once he is a cat. Where he will sleep, what I will feed him, how I will be able to understand his meows. He gave me few lessons on cat-to-English. How will he brush his teeth? What will become of his favorite shark pajammies?

Mommy's Little Helpers

Raking, for me, rates right up there with dusting. But when it finally reached the point I couldn't bear to look at the lawn anymore (and the snowmen the kids made were 75% leaves 25% snow), I decided it was time. Ugh. You can imagine how thrilled I was when the kids, upon seeing me gather up gloves, rake and lawn bags, came running to me with cries of "I wanna help! I wanna help!" But nothing good lasts forever, and with young children, you're lucky if you get a solid five minutes of cooperation. Everyone wants to rake (there are four of us and two rakes), and nobody (except me) wants to bag. Hannah wants to rake in reverse, from the newly made pile outward. John wants to rake in the same exact square foot I am raking. Chris wants to rake John and Hannah.

I want to rake my fingernails on a chalkboard.

Daddy's Girl

Jeff has a special relationship with Mao. Basically, it boils down to, whatever she demands of him, he gives. When she gets all 42 inches of herself up in his face, he is overpowered. He has a fabulous briefcase he takes to his manager meetings adorned with her abstract artwork all over the dividers. She whispers sweet nothings in his ear that result in chocolates and soda in the evening. Here's the kicker -- she rats him out every time. As if proud of her conquest using her wiles, she comes to me immediately to show me the latest taboo thing Daddy has granted her that I would not permit.

She didn't eat a lot of her dinner tonight. Mid-meal, she snuck off to Daddy, whispered in his ear, and staggered off with three Hershey's Treasures. She made a point of walking past me, barely exposing her booty as she slowly passed by. I promptly collected the forbidden goodies, ordering her to finish her dinner. Not five minutes later she is standing in the doorway saying "I don't have anything in my hands!" as the two new Treasures melt behind her back in her manipulative hands.

Everybody else is doing it...

Welcome! For a couple of years, now, I have been wanting to set up a web site to keep family and friends up to date on the latest goings-on in our little family. Frankly, I couldn't figure it out. So I got the bright idea to start a blog. Even I can figure out how to make a blog entry. Now the only problem is... what do I write?

This morning Mao Tse Hannah was painting with white paint. She dropped her paintbrush on the carpet, which I cleaned up right away, but now I have a big clean spot on it.