Archive for category Humorous
O.K., which of you stuffed my ears with marshmallows and forced me to swallow a cheese grater? I know one of you is the culprit because there’s no other explanation for why I feel this way.
Unless I’m sick. But we don’t want to consider that possibility. Sickness is not an option when you have a million things to do while accompanied by an overactive toddler intent on performing a new death-defying stunt every 45 seconds (e.g., somersault off fireplace onto end table followed by double layout onto couch).
Only Girl in the World pounds out as we cruise down the suburban avenue. I’m excited and I know why. I wonder if little J is excited for the same reason. Unlikely. His giddiness is probably due to the passing of a stop sign, one of his favorite items to identify as we drive along. A two year old just doesn’t get pumped up about one’s first organic produce box the way his food-loving mother does.
I squinted down at the bowlful of white glop in front of me then up at the waitress. I asked, “Where’s the cheese?”
“The cheese! The cheese! How can you have baked potato soup without cheese?”
She looked at me like I was nuts. “We don’t put cheese on our baked potatoes so why would we put it on our baked potato soup?”
It’s called Eating Alone: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
Check it out and then let me know what you eat when you’re alone and why.
Multiple Choice Question: What do you do when your parenting partner goes out of town?
a) Beg for mercy.
b) Ask your mom to visit.
c) Make it easy on yourself and allow a few days of continuous cartoon-watching.
d) Invite friends over for the evenings: You supply the wine, they supply conversations that do not include the words mommy, poo poo or Idon’twantto.
One night last week my mom posted on Facebook that she and my dad were cozily waiting out the blizzard that was blowing through Manitoba. I woke the next morning imagining snow on the ground. I looked out the window at lush palm trees with a bright blue backdrop and felt lost. I plastered a smile on my face and went upstairs to get my toddler ready for the day. I asked, “What do you want to do today?” He said, “Go to the park, Mommy!” And why not? It is *sigh* 82 degrees out there after all.
Swings, slides, sand (lots of digging) and a couple of hours later, J and I were walking home from the park singing our ABCs. From behind a hedge I heard, “Who’s doing such nice singing?” J pointed and shouted (very very loudly), “Wook Mommy! A wady!” There was a woman in her yard gardening. She chuckled, “A boy with such a nice voice deserves an orange. Come around back and I’ll give you one.” J ran to her and began happily plucking oranges from her tree (never mind that we have about a million on our own trees at home). She then asked J, “Do you like lemonade?” He nodded his head vigorously. “If I give your Mommy some lemons, will she make you some?” We both nodded our heads vigorously.
As we watched her picking round bumpy lemons from her tree I thought, “I wish we had a lemon tree…oh wait, we do have one…but its lemons are small and seedy and taste bitter and …OH MY GOD…they definitely don’t smell like this…would it be weird to bite through the peel and eat the whole thing here in her yard? What if I just stand here holding it up to my nose while breathing deeply?”
After many thank yous we headed home for lunch. Once there J insisted that he didn’t want any lemonade. After all, if life gives you oranges shouldn’t your mom make you orange juice? (How he’s not sick of the stuff by now, I don’t understand). I, on the other hand, had been given lemons and when life gives me lemons I make Citron Pressé.
Walk of course. And walk and walk and walk and then pray that they don’t have to eat Big Macs when they finally stop and then wish that they could please please please have a Big Mac. Just one. Please? I don’t know what the other Canadians and Brits in Florida were doing but that’s exactly what my husband, my son and I did for our very first American Thanksgiving last year. Here’s what happened:
I have a Girls Night In with a few friends once a month. When our nights first started we wanted to meet regularly and not have the frequency of our get-togethers decrease into nothingness slowly over time (this has been the fate of so many groups that I’ve been in, especially book clubs. Thankfully this is not a book club so we have that on our side). We got to the heart of the issue: Why do people who have fun together stop getting together? The answer: It becomes too much work with the host running around the house tidying and madly trying to figure out what to serve (oh, and that answers the book club question – there’s the added pressure of actually reading the book!). To simplify things all of our girls’ nights follow these four rules:
The hostess does not prepare any food for the guests.
The hostess provides the following, nothing more, nothing less:
- 1 bag of tortilla chips
- 1 bowl of salsa
- 1 dessert purchased at the local grocery store
The guests do the BYOB thing.
We sit outside unless the weather is truly awful (this is supposed to minimize the house-cleaning. Although, the homes of my gal-pals are always spotless when I arrive. Likewise, I fear that I would run around like a maniac, Windex and roll of paper towels in hand, even if Rule #4 was, “Guests agree to wear blindfolds for entire evening.”
OCD cleaning impulses aside, we had managed to meet fairly regularly for quite some time…until…
I was shopping for my tortilla chips, salsa and grocery-store dessert when I spotted pomegranates: Plump. Round. Scarlet. Perfect. Ohhhhh…I thought of exotic vacations…I thought of Christmas…I thought of Champagne…I thought, “Should I buy some Cava?” Mmmm….I thought you’d never ask!
Once home I extracted the seeds from the fruit (why don’t chefs warn, “Wear an apron and cover entire kitchen in newspaper,” BEFORE they advise, “Whack the pomegranate hard with a wooden spoon to dislodge the seeds?” *sigh*) and fed a third of them to my toddler for a snack. Another third were placed in the fridge to get cold. The final third went into a fine mesh sieve over a bowl where I mashed the juice out of them using the back of a wooden spoon. The small bowl of juice went beside the seeds in the fridge to chill out.