Volleyball, Voodoo and Purple Poo

This week's FTSF this week is

I did something really stupid once, I ...

How perfect.  I just happened to do something really stupid this week and wrote about it already.  So, my sentence will read:

I did something really stupid once, I played volleyball like I was still 20 years old and 6 ft. tall. 

(As I proofread this, I realized that I did something stupid in my sentence about doing something stupid.  Despite what the sentence says, I have never been 6ft. tall.  My entire adult life, I have been a tiny bit shorter than 5'7".  It should read "like I was 6ft. tall and still 20 years old.)

It was the championship volleyball game.  My team of six was playing against a team of two ridiculously good (but very kind, generous) players and the other four people on their team.  This couple has won the championship game for the last 7 years or so, all with completely different teammates.

They are that good.

We were tied 12-12.

The ball was hit high in the air and was coming straight down on top of the net.  I was up against a 6'2" giant, but the adrenaline was pumping.  I challenged him, and jumped as high as I could.  I have no idea where the ball ended up, seeing as how I landed crookedly and my ankle went right out from under me.

The game was over for me.

And yes, I hurt myself the exact same way that Hubby did when he broke his foot.  Except he wasn't playing in an important championship game.  My injury is legitimate.

I haven't been to the doctor.  I didn't get home until after 11:00 (midnight, really, taking the time change into account) and it didn't hurt too badly.

It does now.

A first-time serving at mass situation (Giant) and leading waves of 2nd graders through the steps of making clothes pin crucifixes (the oldest two, and a very unhappy Hubby in my spot) have prevented me from going yet.  Maybe after the little kids are in bed.

Sitting here on the couch, icing my foot and watching terrible TV, I've had plenty of time to reflect on the situation.  I've learned a few things.

1.  Someone has put a voodoo hex on my family.  In our entire lives, not one person has ever broken anything.  In 2013, we've broken:

Hubby:  foot
Giant:  nose
Buttercup:  finger
Me:  looking more and more like my foot

If you happen to see some dolls that look eerily like my family, would you please be so kind as to remove the needles?

2.  When you injure yourself, even if you are in agony from the pain, designate your caregivers.  At this tournament, there were approximately 40 people.  I knew every one of them except four.  More than half of the 20 were friends I've known for years.  They were all so helpful, getting ice for my foot, getting ice for my head and neck when I came thiiiiis close to passing out, (not from the pain, as I am not a wimp, but from the adrenaline that suddenly had nowhere to go) and gathering my belongings.  They made one error, though.  They left the seat next to my foot wide open. 

The one intoxicated person in the room, with whom I have never spoken in my life but know in passing, sat in that seat.  He touched my ankle.  He diagnosed the problem.  He gave me tips on recovery.  He talked non-stop. 

The man is a builder.  He has zero medical experience.  However, since no one knew him well, they didn't know that.  They let him talk and talk and talk. 

3.  Even if it's winter and has been snowing for endless days, shave your legs before engaging in any physical activity.  On a whim, I actually shaved my legs yesterday morning for the first time in a while.  The entire time I was sitting on that bench, with what seemed like an endless stream of people touching and/or looking at my ankle/leg, I was beyond grateful for my inner hygiene voice that spoke to me so loudly and clearly that morning. 

4.  If you are laid up on the couch, and your husband and two oldest children aren't home, think twice before telling the next two oldest children that they can go on a bike ride. 

Cuckoo came to me with his pants down and a purple sludge on his finger.  I hesitantly asked what it was, and he said he got it on the toilet.

I walked/hopped/screamed/followed him to the bathroom to find purple poop smeared all over the toilet, his fingers, and his rear end. 

That's when I remembered the jokes we made yesterday when the kids were eating the bright blue, yellow, teal, and red cake Buttercup had made with her friends.  We actually discussed the color they would poop today.

Question answered.

Let's just say that it ain't easy to clean a purple poop mess when balancing on one foot. 

His bum is still stained purple.

And it will stay that way until Hubby gets home.

I'm sure that will cheer him up after his afternoon of crafting with 8 year olds.

I'll keep you updated.

On my foot.

Not the poop.

We've discussed that too much already.

Now click on that linky button and go enjoy some more stupidity.

Have a lovely day!

Finish the Quick Takes Friday

************ 1 **********

In today's installment of FTSF we are to complete the sentence I tried to cook...

a pumpkin pie.

My sister and I have a rare condition called Forget at Least One Ingredient Every Flippin' Time You Bake Something.   It's annoying as all get out, as we waste all sorts of time and resources in our quest for deliciousness.  Fortunately, we always remember the forgotten ingredient as the soon-to-be-baked good is going into the oven or as the item is baking.  We've never had someone bite into our food and say, "Um, something seems to be missing."

Hubby is not a fan of big family gatherings, but he will endure it because he love, love, loves his mom's pumpkin pie.  She makes it every Thanksgiving, and he drools for a month beforehand just thinking about it. 

Hubby's first year in law school, I was working for Kroger as a cake decorator and had to work on the day after Thanksgiving.  We could not go home for his mom's pie.  He was quite upset about it, so I agreed to make it.  Since my mom only lived two hours away, we went to her house for the big day.  She was making a lemon meringue pie while I made the pumpkin.  We were chatting and having a good time while doing so.  I had my mother-in-law's recipe in hand, and it really wasn't that big of a deal.  (Although, I think I did use a pre-made crust.  Don't want to try too many new things at once.) 

I got it in the oven, but there was a little niggling in my brain.  I knew I had forgotten something.  15 minutes later, I remembered. 

I didn't put sugar in the pie.

We let it finish baking, and after dinner covered that pie in whipped cream, hoping to fix the sugar problem.

FYI:  Sugar is an absolute necessity in a pumpkin pie, regardless of how much whipped cream you apply.

In honor of my failed pie, for the rest of the quick takes, I am going to give you all some tips.  I have a lot of kids and have been cleaning my house for many years.  Some of you younger mamas may find this stuff useful.

 

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When baking/cooking, get all of your ingredients out before you do anything else.  You don't have to measure them out into cute little bowls like they do on Food Network, but have them all out on the counter.   (I'm not fancy.  If you want to call it a work space and use those little bowls, be my guest.) 

As you use the ingredients, put them away.  Immediately.  Two cups of flour into the bowl, the flour canister goes to the cupboard.  A teaspoon of salt goes into the bowl, the salt container goes into the cupboard.  That way, before you put the batter into the baking dish, you can look and see that the counter is empty and be assured that you used everything.

Usually that works.  I made two loaves of banana bread last week. I've learned that doubling the recipe just doesn't work very well, so I make two batches. Since I didn't put the ingredients away as I used them when mixing up the first loaf, I forgot the vanilla and the baking soda.   I didn't remember that little fact until after I stuck it in the oven.

I took it out immediately, added the missing ingredients right to the loaf pan and gave it a stir, then let it bake.  When it was done, I marked it, "Don't give away."

I told you.  I have a condition. 

************** 3 *************

Buy one of these, especially if you have boys.


A steamer has changed my cleaning life.  No chemicals whatsoever.  Pour in some water, then clean and sanitize til the cows come home. 

Just a few things I clean with it:

1.  The nasty crud around the dishwasher.  You know, that one inch all the way around the door that doesn't get cleaned when the dishwasher runs, but you can't see when the dishwasher is closed.  Steam and wipe.  Voila.  Clean dishwasher.

2.  Tile showers.  Nastiness is gone.  I spray it, scrub with a brush, and wipe away the grime.  There is a brush attachment that works very well on grout, but it's just little and takes forever to scrub the whole shower.

3.  Most importantly, the toilet.  You think your toilet is clean until you use this thing.  I don't care how old they are, boys are gross.  And they pay far too little attention when using the facilities.  Prepare yourself before you point the steamer into the little crevices on the toilet.  You will most likely gag on your own vomit. 

4.  Mattresses and couches.  Just to give them that "No dust mites here" feeling.

Just be careful, though, when you are using this thing.  I did burn myself once when I went to wipe the tile before moving the spray out of the way.

Because I'm juuuust this side of brilliant.

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While we are on eco-friendly cleaning, let's talk mirrors and glass.  Buy one of these:

source

I bought my microfiber glass cloth at Meijer.  Just go to the cleaning section of your favorite box store and pick one up for about $6.  It leaves no lint, it cleans really well, and it can go in the washing machine when you are done.  You just need to barely get it wet.  Barely.  And then wring it out.  I use it on our mirrors, the glass in the shower, the front door.  Everywhere.  And the kids can use it, too.

**************** 5***********

While we are talking about glass, let's talk kids' milk. 

For those who have an aversion to the H word, I really, really, really strongly dislike sippy cups.  There are a whole variety of reasons for this feeling, but we won't go into that now.  It seems most people use sippy cups because their kids spill their milk too often if they don't.  (Or they just carry the blasted cup around everywhere they go, and one can't do that with a lidless cup.  Oops. Letting my dislike come through.)

Go to Goodwill and buy some thick-bottomed juice glasses.  Glasses.  Not plastic cups.

I know, the thought of giving a two year old a glass scares you.  Get over it.  All six of my kids have started using glasses before they were two years old.  In all of those years, they have spilled them a handful of times.  They have only broken one or two.   It's pure, simple physics.   Glass doesn't tip over as easily as plastic.  We do have plastic cups.  The little kids aren't allowed to use them, though, seeing as how they spill them every time they do.

****************** 6 ************

For those of you with toddlers in the house who love to unroll the toilet paper, I have an idea.  I know it sounds simple, but I didn't figure it out until toddler #3.  Turn the toilet paper around.  Instead of having it waterfall like normal people do, turn it around.  When the little naughty toddler goes to town spinning it, the paper will just spin, not unroll.

Please note, this doesn't last forever.  Eventually, your child will figure it out.  It usually occurs right around the same time that he is potty training and has all the time in the world to ponder the things around him.

************** 7 ***********

 

Playing games with your children is a wonderful way to teach your children a multitude of things.  I encourage everyone to play lots and lots of games.  Board games, card games, word games.  It's all good. 

Lots of parents are reluctant to play games because kids' games bore the tar out of them.  I get it.  Oh, do I get it.  That's why I stack the deck.  CandyLand?  I separate the cards, then put the candy cards in order throughout the deck so no one has to actually go back to the gingerbread riiiight before they win.  Matching games can drag on and on.  So I play a little differently.  Separate the pairs, then scatter one set around the house.  I sit on the couch and make them fetch the matching pieces. 

Lots of parents are reluctant to play because they don't know which games are appropriate.  They don't know what to expect from their kids.  In our house, we pay zero attention to the age on the outside of the box.  Cuckoo and Turken and I played Yahtzee today.  (Cuckoo won.  He managed to roll TWO Yahtzees in his first three turns.)   Yes, Yahtzee can be a really long game.  No one says you have to play to the end.  Tell the kids the length of time you will play then set the timer.  When the timer goes off, whoever is winning at the time wins the game.

Lastly, don't let the kids win all the time.  They need to learn that other people get turns to win, too.

Oh, wait.  Lastly, don't buy Chutes and Ladders.  That game bites.  There is no way to make it shorter.  And I get that stupid big long slide every time.  Every.  Time.  It has been banned from our home.

Feel free to head over to read more.  Or even link up yourself.  You know you want to.

Have a lovely day!

 

Get Ready to Dance: Bermuda-Style!

It was a resounding (6-person) "Yes!  Please tell us more about Bermuda!"  So on to the fun.  The actual fun, as dearest Considerer asked some questions about nightlife and what sort of fun is to be had.

In case you missed them:   Part 1     Part 2

To get you in the mood, here's a little music while you read.  Reggae and soca are the preferred genre of Bermudians.   I give you Byron Lee.

 

Hubby and I aren't what you would call party people. Most days after work, we would head out to a park close to our apartment to play a little tennis and cool off with a dip in the ocean. Fortunately, we had friends who had lived on the island much longer than we had. They showed us how the locals live.

I don't know of a single group of people who live near water that don't make the water a large part of their life.  Be it a river, a lake, or the ocean, people enjoy time on, in, and next to the water.  It's calming.  It's beautiful.  It's adventurous.  Bermudians are no different.  However, the water around Bermuda is very different than other places, which lends to some unique opportunities.

When looking at the photo above, the darker the blue the deeper the water.  That bright area north of Bermuda is a thriving, vibrant coral reef.  That reef has a whole lot to do with both Bermuda's history and the lives of Bermudians.  (And it makes the beach sand pink!)

That reef has caught over 300 ships unaware and sunk them.  Some of those ships are still there. 

That reef also keeps the waves to a minimum.  It is some of the most tranquil, clear ocean water I have ever seen.  Standing on shore, you can look into the water and see massive parrot fish.

source

 

 

Or barracuda.  Or Portuguese Man-of-War jelly fish.   But I'd rather look at the parrot fish.  The more adventurous types spend lots of time snorkeling and scuba diving.  We tried snorkeling once.  I had learned on our honeymoon in Key West that I am not good at snorkeling, but I really wanted to give it a try here.  We went with some friends to have dinner on the beach, then donned our snorkel gear and swam on out.  Within just a few yards of the beach, there was a HUGE hole where all sorts of fun sea life was hanging out.  I was a mixture of awed and scared to death.  Who knew what dangerous creature lived in that hole?  I didn't stay out there for long.

 

On weekends, you will find hundreds of people out on their boats, anchoring with some friends for a picnic and a swim.  Or some death-defying jumping. 

 

 

See that person in the green bathing suit flying through the air without the safety of a trapeze?  That would be me.  Just a touch terrifying, but all the kids were doing it.  Really.  The kids were jumping.

 

Look at the photo of Bermuda again, and you'll notice that the reef doesn't go all the way around the island.  The other side has deep water pretty much right up to the shore.  While there are waves on the south shore, there aren't any surfers.   Much of the shore is very rocky.   The beaches don't have surfers either, though, since when the wind gets high enough to make decent-sized waves, the beaches are usually closed due to dangerous rip tides. 

 

Hubby and I spent one Saturday hiking the shore. 

 

Such a stud, no?



I had to have been young and healthy.  Those are most certainly not proper shoes for such a hike.

Need more music?  How about Jam Bermuda?  Close your eyes, though.  There is a half naked woman on the cover.  Bermudians aren't known for wearing a whole lot of clothing while they are dancing, even in the parades.   

 

 

As you can imagine, fishing is a popular pasttime.  We went out with friends for some deep-sea fishing one time.  For those who have never gone into open waters, it is not easy to get your "sea legs" in an itty-bitty fishing boat.  (If you ever go, take Dramamine.  Our friend didn't, and he was miserable the entire time.)  We were able to catch some huge tuna, which we immediately took home and ate for dinner.  Fortunately, when the fish is that fresh, even a person with very limited cooking experience and a teeny, tiny studio apartment kitchen has a hard time ruining it.

 

As I said before, there are no fast food joints on the island.  Eating out is an experience to be enjoyed, not rushed through.  Bermudians don't rush.  Ever.  British-type pubs are popular, and we tried most of them.  We especially enjoyed one called the Hog Penny.  Oh, the fish chowder there was divine.  (My dad actually remembers this place from when he was on the island during his Marine Corp days.) 

 

There are a couple of night clubs on the island, but they are mostly for the expats.  I don't remember many Bermudians hanging out there.  Of course, we only went once.

 

There is one weekend, though, where Bermudians let their hair down and party for real.  Every year in late July/early August, the island shuts down for four days (another difference from the US.  Here it is illegal for a bank to shut down for 4 days.  Not so in Bermuda, much to the chagrin of Hubby and the other programmers who were installing new software at a bank.) to celebrate Emancipation Day (the end of slavery on the island) and Somer's Day (to celebrate the island's discovery (Admiral Sir George Somers shipwrecked on the reef in 1609.  He and his crew were the first humans to stand on the island.))   I hardly know where to begin when describing this weekend. 

 

 I guess we'll start with the fact that half the Bermudians rent out their houses (for boatloads of cash) to people who flock to the island for the weekend.  Where do the Bermudians go? you may ask.  Do they fly off on their own vacations?  Nope.  They move to the beaches.  They actually pitch tents on the beach and live there for four days, so the party never has to end.

 

source

Also on that weekend is the Bermuda Cup Match, where the east side cricket team plays the west side cricket team.  As US citizens, we were not familiar with the game of cricket.  After two days of watching it, I still don't understand it.  All I can say is, there is a reason cricket has not caught on here in my home country.  It's too daggum long.  And boring.  I am not kidding when I tell you that half the time, this Cup Match is decided by a coin toss.  After two days of play, there is no winner.  Can you even imagine if the Super Bowl ended with no winner?  No.  No you can't. 

 

Gambling on Bermuda is completely illegal.  Except for this weekend.  Tents are set up all around the cricket pitch where rowdy games of Crown and Anchor are played.  It's a simple dice game, but people go crazy over it.   The tents are filled with folks having some fun at the tables.

 

For the week around the holidays, there are concerts.  And dancing.  Lots of dancing.  And lots of music.  There is a parade with music blaring the whole time.  They were flash mobbing before it was the "thing" to do.  Hubby and I actually had the chance to go see Hootie and the Blowfish in a small little club.  This was back in the day before anyone really knew them (and how many of my younger readers have ever heard of them?  They had a fairly short run in the popularity race.), so we didn't go.  We have kicked ourselves ever since.  Byron Lee (the musician from above) was the headliner for the week.  We weren't even offered tickets to that concert.

 

Basically, though, Bermudians live like the rest of us do.  They work, they enjoy spending time with friends, they do some recreational activities on the weekends.  They just get to do it at a slower pace in one of the most beautiful places on earth. 

 

Thank you all for letting me relive our days in Bermuda.  You've put on your happy faces while I went through my vacation photos and gave you my research-paper-type synopsis.  No one does that in real life in person.  I know.  I've tried.  (If you have any other questions, let me know.  I love this topic, especially when we are living through endlessly cold and dreary days.)

 

Have a lovely day! 



Blowing and Drifting

Snow blows.

Literally.

And figuratively.

Proof:

The other day, Buttercup said, "On the blog you make our life so much funnier and interesting than it really is.  You take the little funny bits and make them seem like they are so much bigger."

So, apparently, I blow (smoke), too.

To end, photos that make me smile.  No exaggeration required. 

Because I don't.

Exaggerate, that is.

Despite what Buttercup says.

Just sayin'.

I think the snow is getting to me.

I'll stop now.

Probably.

Yup, I'm done.

Have a lovely day!

It's Official! We Have Two Teens!

My baby girl is a teenager today.

My little girl has gone and turned 13.

Instead of going on and on, giving you every adjective I can come up with to describe her, I'll give you some examples of her activities recently.  You can come up with your own adjectives.

A few days ago, without any prompting from me, Buttercup took the little boys out for a treasure hunt.  Armed with their own buckets, they went in search of any and all odd things they could find in our yard.  They were outside for 45 minutes and came back with quite the haul.  (They also came back with the information that a dead opossum was in the side yard.  Awesome. I so love disposing of dead animals.)

Buttercup then sat each of them down at the mud room table with a giant piece of foam, some glue, and a paintbrush.  They spent the next 30 minutes creating collages of their treasures.

With this activity, Buttercup managed to multi-task like a pro.  First, she kept two little boys occupied and having fun for over an hour.  They got some fresh air and exercise, not to mention some small motor skills craft time.  But the best part for me:  they picked up trash for me without even knowing it!

Cuckoo's collage

Turken's collage

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For the last two days, Turken, Cuckoo, and Buttercup have been working on a top secret show.  They have been sneaking off to her bedroom for long stretches of time, and coming downstairs with completely straight faces.  Those little boys aren't cracking.

Yesterday, Hubby and I found these on our pillows:

A tri-fold flyer advertising the show. (I've edited it to keep all personal info private.)  My favorite part is the cost.  We can buy tickets early for 3 pennies each, or at the door for 5.   I also enjoy the part about the show being for people of all ages.  (As opposed to....?)  There is no date set, as she needed to talk to us about the week's schedule first.

While in Microsoft Publisher, Buttercup decided that, as manager, she really should have a business card.  She came up with a logo and everything.  These were placed on the pillow of every member of the family.

***********************

 

 

With a still-broken, taped-up finger, she played in her last two volleyball games of the season.  I had told her coach to let her play for only the first half, but while I was in the stands, he asked her to play all of both games.  She never sat on the bench.

 

 

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For Lent, Buttercup gave up bickering with her brothers.  I have to say, I never thought she could do it.  One brother in particular has a way of getting under her skin, and she has a hard time ignoring his bait.  I have noticed a huge change in the way she deals with it.  Just yesterday in the van, the brother was poking her, itching for a little bickerfest.  She answered him once, but the second time, she simply said, "OK" and stopped talking. 

 

I almost cried.

 

This one change has really made a difference in their relationship.  This brother spent an hour making signs and decorating her room for her birthday.  This brother rarely spends any time doing things like that for others without being asked. 

 

And yesterday, these two kids spent the afternoon making cookies together.  Completely by themselves.  I could hear laughing coming from the kitchen the entire time.   I haven't heard those two behave like that since they were itty bitty.

 

 

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Without going into details, I'll say Buttercup has had a difficult year at school, all stemming from a whole mess of girl drama. 

My Buttercup, after a miserable first semester in which her grades tanked, went to school one day and told the girls that she would no longer be socializing with them.  She was done with the drama and didn't like who she was becoming when she was with them.

There has been some backlash, to say the least, but she hasn't let it deter her.  Thankfully, her teacher is looking out for her, and instead of letting Buttercup suffer alone in the down times, is giving her things to do outside of the room. 

In the two months of this semester, Buttercup has gotten her grades back up to honor-level.  Her teachers finally know her for the girl she really is.  She has found two girls who share her interests and are focused on the right things. 

Our old Buttercup is back.

I couldn't be more proud of her.

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I'm off to finish her cake.  I love when her birthday rolls around.  She always picks my favorite restaurant for her dinner, my favorite kind of chocolate cake, and my beloved Chocolate Moose Tracks ice cream. 

 

 

 

Have a lovely day!



He's Not the Worst Cook in America

For the five years before Hubby and I walked down the aisle to proclaim, "I do!" we lived in separate states. We went to different colleges, and he was a year ahead of me, so our actual time together was limited. We didn't really know too much about each other's habits and ways of living.  But, both being the oldest children of divorced parents, we went into marriage very logical-like.  On our honeymoon we actually discussed the chore breakdown for our household.  The rules started the first day we got home.  A few of those rules have lasted all of these 18 years, and one has been used every day of our married lives.

When one person cooks dinner, the other one cleans the dishes.

When I married Hubby, the man thought that 3 pounds of ham was a complete meal.  I knew that if I wanted to eat like a normal human being, I would have to be the one to cook, and he had to be the one to clean the dishes.  This arrangement has worked out well for us all of these years.

Until yesterday, apparently.

When I left to take Buttercup to a volleyball game, I told Hubby to take whatever he wanted out of the freezer for dinner.  I would make it after the game.  When I got home, he had pork tenderloin chops thawing and a plan for how to make them.

Me:  Where did you learn how to make pork chops?
H (after some denials and diversions): allrecipes.com
Me:  Are you making the entire meal or just the pork?
H:  If you feel you need potatoes, I wouldn't object.  Or if you have a hankerin' for a green veggie, be my guest.

The expectations were set.  He was going to make pork chops, I was going to make everything to go with them.  You know, because we aren't wolves.

I give you Hubby's exact method for making breaded pork tenderloin.  The crossed out directions are the ones he did first, then amended later.

1.  Use a tenderizer hammer thing to pound out your pork tenderloin.  Make sure you put the tenderloin on a large, plastic cutting board. 

Buttercup (who was standing nearby): Dad!  You just splashed me with pork blood!

1a.  Make sure you cover the pork with plastic before you pound it.

Me:  Honey, is there a reason you need to put the pork on the cutting board?
H:  I don't want to break the counter.
Me:  First of all, the counter is stone, you won't hurt it, and second of all, do you actually miss the pork when you swing at it?

1. Wrap your pork chop in plastic wrap and pound it out with a tenderizer hammer thing.

2.  Heat oven to 350 degrees.

3.  Put eggs and milk in one shallow pan, bread crumbs and seasoning in another. 

4.  Pour every drop of oil you have into a big pan and heat it up.

Me:  Honey, are you supposed to be deep-frying the pork?
H:  I am supposed to brown it in oil.  How do I know when the oil is hot enough?
Me:  Let's go back to the amount of oil.  Deep-frying isn't usually a good thing to do in a 12-in. frying pan.  Are you sure you have the right amount of oil?
H (checking his phone):   Um, no.  I didn't see that part in the ingredients.  I'm supposed to use one tablespoon.  How in the world does that work?  Now what?
Me:  Let the oil cool and then pour it out. 
H:  But I need the pan!
Me:  How 'bout you put the oil in something to cool?  And back to your other question, you are simply browning it.   The oil is only supposed to coat the bottom of the pan.

4.  Read the list of ingredients and all directions before you begin.

5.  Once your one tablespoon of oil is hot, dip a chop in the egg, dredge it in the bread crumbs, then place it in the pan to brown.

6.  Check the chops often to make sure the chops are browning, not burning.

Me:  Honey, quit touching them.  They won't brown correctly if you keep fussing with them.
H:  Then how will I know if they're brown?
Me:  It will take more than 25 seconds.  Give them at least 2 minutes.
H:  Should I cover them?
Me:  Does the recipe say to cover them?
H:  No.
Me:  Then don't cover them. 

6.  Flip the chops after a few minutes (when the first side is brown).  Once they are browned completely, take them out and put them...

H:  It says I need to line a 9x13 pan with tin foil.  What does that mean?
Me:  Tear off a piece of tin foil, lay it in the bottom of a 9x13 pan.
H:  Do they have to be in one layer?  What if they don't fit?  And then it says cover it with more foil. 
Me:  We have more than one 9x13 pan.  Cover them with foil.

in a pan or two lined with foil.

7.  If you forget to do the egg/bread crumb thing, pretend that you did it on purpose in case someone doesn't like breading.

H: Why doesn't it look like the oven is on?
Me:  Because it's not.
H:  I pushed 350!
Me:  Did you push start?

2.  On the oven, set the temperature to 350, then PUSH START to get it to actually heat up.

8.  Once all of the pork is done and in the foil-lined 9x13 pan, mix the leftover egg and bread crumbs.  Fry them up.  This, according to my recipe, is called extra breading.  I call it scrambled eggs with a little bit of filler.

9.  Throw the eggs on top of the pork chops,

 then cover the whole thing with foil.

Me:  I don't have rose-colored glasses to make this all look better, but I do have roses.  Everything looks better with roses.  (Hubby picked some up for me on his way home from work on Friday.)

10.  While the pork is baking, do something with that oil you didn't need. 

H:  Honey, do we have a funnel?

H:  How do I know when it's done?
Me:  We have a meat thermometer.  Use it.

9.  When the pork reaches the proper temperature, remove from oven and enjoy.

We enjoyed.  The chops he pounded thin enough were delicious.  There were a few that were too thick and not quite right. 

In case you're wondering, I did the dishes he used to make the pork while the pork was cooking.  After we ate, he washed the ones I used to make the side dishes.

Perfect.

As I am writing this, Buttercup is making some cookies to take to school tomorrow.  She just came into the room and said, "The recipe says I need one and three fourths eggs.  How do I do that?"

Probably not a good time to pull out the "ask your father" card.

Have a lovely day! 

Run-Ons Are Hereditary

Well, as I sit here and type, the wind is blowing, the temperature is cold, and snow is falling.  Again. 

March is roarin' in like a big old lion.  Not a nice Simba lion either.  More like Scar.  Not nice.  Not nice at all.

Hopefully that means it will go out like a whole flippin' field full of lambs.  And I don't mean that literally.  )Although, my brother does have 20 pregnant sheep who will be giving birth in March.  Regardless of the weather, March will definitely go out like a lamb for his family.)

This morning, Turken asked if he could make a book.  I said, "Sure!" because I had a lot of cleaning to do today and needed an activity to keep them occupied. 

First, I sat down with him and had him tell me the story he wanted in his book.  I then made a simple book made of folded printer paper with a construction paper cover.  I put a sentence on each page, then gave him some colored pencils to illustrate it. 

Of course, if Turken got to make a book, Cuckoo had to make one, too. 

If you ever want to know what is going through your children's heads at any given time, ask them to tell you a story. From Turken and Cuckoo's stories, it would seem that my little ones did not have enough to eat at breakfast.

 

I'm Full!

By Turken

 

Once upon a time there was a little boy named John.

 

I do belive Turken was distracted when he drew John.  Perhaps he was daydreaming about a giraffe?



He ate everything! 

 

Then he got too much to eat



Can you see the kiwi, green beans, banana, strawberries, taco, banana bread, carrot, clementine, and mango?  Notice John.  It will be important later.

and wouldn't be able to eat any more until a different day because he was full.

 

 

My boy loves details.  Same red shirt and black pants, but they are no longer able to contain the giant belly created from the overeating.

 

And then he wanted to do some climbing.

 

That would be John climbing a ladder.  Naturally.  Because everyone wants to climb a ladder after stuffing himself like a sausage.

 

The End

 

*******************

 

A Boy Named Andrew

By Cuckoo

 

Someone named Andrew ate his sandwich and his fruit and then he ate candy.

 

For some reason Andrew is sideways.  The red blob is one honkin' big sandwich.  Bet you can guess what those blue circles with M's in the middle are.  I guess he misses M&Ms, too.

Then he ate one more thing, and it was a juicy pear.

 

See that circle in the middle of the Andrew drawing?  It's his belly button.  You will see one in every single drawing Cuckoo does of a person.  (I know you are now scrolling to the previous picture.  There's a belly button there, too.)

 

Then he played with his pillow pets and came downstairs and Eva and Andrew were playing with them.

 

While eating more M&Ms apparently. 

The end.

 

Clearly, run-on sentences are ingrained.  Now I just need to teach them the fine art of parentheses over-usage.

 

Have a lovely day!