Posts Tagged kids
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If you’ve ever run into us at the grocery story, I don’t blame you for thinking that my little J loves mushrooms. It would be a totally acceptable belief given the evidence: J sitting in the cart with a blue styro package of pre-washed sliced mushrooms on his lap as he happily chows down on slice after slice of tasteless white shroom.
It’s totally true. Whenever we get to the produce section, he demands that we head to the mushrooms, demands that I pass him a blue pack and demands that I tear a whole in the plastic wrap so his pudgy fingers can get through. Then he eats his way through half the packet and absolutely refuses to share any with me.
But what do you think happens when we get home?
Two little blond heads share the pillow next to her. She squints at the clock and is amazed to see 7, 3 and 0 illuminated. “Have they EVER slept this late before? Awesome!” Then the events of 2am come back to her and she wonders if it was worth the extra sleep. At least one of them made it to the toilet. The other, well, a mop for the bathroom floor and some wet towels on the carpet got most of it. Fingers crossed they feel better this morning.
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.
My Gee Gee would pay us five cents for every potato bug in our pail.
He’d hose mud off of a carrot and off of us at the same time. Shrieking, we’d jump from the spray secretly hoping to get caught by refreshing coldness.
He’d hand us roughly cut rhubarb and send us to Baba knowing she’d sit us at the table where we’d dip scarlet tips into glasses of sugar.
His apple tree yielded so many golden spheres that every pair of pantyhose from Shoppers Drugmart was required to strain the juice.
My toddler is transitioning from crib to bed. Every time he wakes up, he realizes that he’s no longer confined. What does he do? He JUMPS! An excited thunder from bed to floor, from floor to bed and then back again.
His floor also happens to be our bedroom ceiling.
I am so tired. Read the rest of this entry »
Alongside Garlic Couscous Peppered with Golden Raisins
Now back to this week’s theme: Strategies for getting dinner on the table.
I’m not great at dashing madly around the kitchen for half an hour.
I like recipes with minimal prep that go in the oven and mind their own business ’til I’m good and ready for ’em. Even better if I can do the prep earlier in the day before all crankiness breaks loose.
Make Dinner Wait for You: Simple Salt and Pepper Salmon with Lemon Thyme Rice and Roasted Green Beans
Next week I’ll have a post on Scary Mommy‘s Scary Mommy Society. To go along with it, I’m offering you some of my strategies for getting dinner on the table. Check out my other family-themed posts: the good, the bad and the ugly.
Today: Make Dinner Wait for You
I like weeknight recipes that are not time-dependent. If there’s an emergency poo-plosion, dinner must wait!
Contrast a typical spaghetti alla carbonara that cries out for you to sit and eat as soon as its noodles are cooked, to a typical baked ziti that relaxes in a warm oven (or even on the counter under foil) for an extra 20-30 minutes waiting for you to enjoy its stringy cheese.
Recipes with a bit of patience are easy to find if you’re on the lookout but very few include fish. Fish doesn’t wait for anyone. Read the rest of this entry »
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.
I made this apple cider for our first Canadian Thanksgiving in the US as well as for our first American Thanksgiving. Read the stories here.
As our Thanksgiving dinner guests arrive, we head out to the backyard for pre-dinner snacks and numbingly spiced hot apple cider. The cider stays warm in a crock-pot set on low, thus freeing up the stove. Place a ladle on a plate next to the pot and lay mugs out around it. Guests can serve themselves, giving you time to chat and do any last minute cooking. (If your crock- pot is already in use keeping a side dish warm, pour the cider into a carafe).
There is no alcohol in this cider so it can be served to everyone. Kids like it, especially if you add the extra brown sugar at the end of the recipe. Last year, a little eight-year-old M exclaimed, “This is just like apple juice but warm and…ummm…better!”
For those guests who like a drink that makes them feel a tad friendlier, we place a bottle of spiced rum, a bottle of brandy and a bottle of whiskey behind the crock pot and let people know that they can pour a splash of something-something into their mug before ladling in the cider.