A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the fact that our food sources aren't reliably safe anymore. I hadn't had anything terrible happen to me with food, I was just appalled by what was being talked about on the news about sick cows. What is scary is that many times it isn't necessarily meat that is the problem; it can be anything.
Take, for example, what happened at our house last night.
Mike was gone around dinner time which means that we did what we often do when he's not here and had something he doesn't really care to eat for dinner--pancakes and bacon.
I grabbed my box of pancake mix out of the cabinet and I vaguely remembered hearing that there was a recall on Aunt Jemima pancake mix. I had two of these boxes in the cabinet (must've been on sale at some point) and so just on a whim, I decided to check online to see if I had any of the tainted mix. Well, sure enough, I had not only ONE salmonella tainted box, but TWO salmonella tainted boxes of pancake mix. What is this world coming to? Salmonella in our pancakes now?
Anyway, I trashed the boxes, and listened to the boys moan because they couldn't have pancakes. Then, I remembered that I could probably GASP! MAKE THEM FROM SCRATCH.
Having never done this before, I sought out my favorite television cook, Paula Deen. Her recipe for pancakes was online and let me tell you they were DELICIOUS! So, here's a challenge for actually making pancakes from scratch. You can do this. Here's the recipe. I slightly modified to with adding more milk because I like my batter a little more runny. And, I also added the vanilla--her recipe didn't include it, everything tastes better with vanilla, don't you think?
Paula Deen's Chocolate Chip Pancakes:
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups milk
2 large eggs separated (this is easy to do, just crack the egg over a bowl and pass the insides from one shell to the other until the white falls into the bowl)
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1/2 cup miniature semi-sweet chocolate chips
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in large bowl. In a small bowl, combine milk, egg yolks, and melted butter. Gradually add to the flour mix and stir until smooth.
Beat egg whites in a small bowl with an electric mixer until they are fluffy and they form peaks when you dab at them with the mixer. Fold beaten whites into the other mixture. Fold in chocolate chips.
Use about 1/4 c. of batter for each pancake on a very hot, buttered pan or griddle. Cook about 1-2 minutes on each side or until they look done.
Prepare to eat the most delicious, fluffy, non-salmonella infected pancakes you've ever had.
My boys each ate seven a piece! I won't tell you how many I ate. It was less than seven, but let's just say I was very full.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The past three days
In the past three days, I have registered K for preschool and registered L and O for Kindergarten.
In the past three days, I have tried not to hyperventilate when I think about J going to Junior High next year while L and O enter the land of school and K leaves me for two and a half hours twice a week.
In the past three days, I've have teared up many times and grabbed my children to hug them and smell their heads and say a little prayer that God will slow the time down.
When I was in grad school, I became friends with a girl whose mother unexpectedly got pregnant late in life--with twins, no less. Since there was a rather large age gap between the twins and the other children in the family, the twins because the center of their mother's universe. Then, the day came for them to go to school.
People asked my friend's mom if she was sad to see them go and how much she cried on the first few days of school. Her answer is what is keeping me from turning into a complete puddle of mush who needs a Prozac cocktail to go on living. She said, "I see so many people who are heartbroken because either their children have died, or their children have such severe disabilities that their lives will never be what a parent dreams will happen for their children. I'm just happy that my girls are able to go to school. They have nothing wrong with them, and they are healthy. God has blessed me and for me to sit around crying because they're "normal" is just a slap in His face."
Amen.
Now pass me a Kleenex, please.
In the past three days, I have tried not to hyperventilate when I think about J going to Junior High next year while L and O enter the land of school and K leaves me for two and a half hours twice a week.
In the past three days, I've have teared up many times and grabbed my children to hug them and smell their heads and say a little prayer that God will slow the time down.
When I was in grad school, I became friends with a girl whose mother unexpectedly got pregnant late in life--with twins, no less. Since there was a rather large age gap between the twins and the other children in the family, the twins because the center of their mother's universe. Then, the day came for them to go to school.
People asked my friend's mom if she was sad to see them go and how much she cried on the first few days of school. Her answer is what is keeping me from turning into a complete puddle of mush who needs a Prozac cocktail to go on living. She said, "I see so many people who are heartbroken because either their children have died, or their children have such severe disabilities that their lives will never be what a parent dreams will happen for their children. I'm just happy that my girls are able to go to school. They have nothing wrong with them, and they are healthy. God has blessed me and for me to sit around crying because they're "normal" is just a slap in His face."
Amen.
Now pass me a Kleenex, please.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Black Kitty
As many of you know, my house is Wild Kingdom because my backyard is filled with critters galore. In addition to the horrible skunks, we’ve had possums roaming around; raccoons that used our baby pool as their own personal play land, and we also have three cats who think the bushes around our deck are the PERFECT place in which to pee.
I’ve tried snapping pictures of these three stooges, but every time I try to run and get my camera, they’ve vanished. Instead you’ll have to use your imagination.
Culprit #1:
A.K.A. “Peeping Tom”
Favorite pastime: Looking at Molly (our cat) through the deck door. He’s a voyeur and it makes Molly very uncomfortable.
Culprit #2:
A.K.A. “Pee Cat”
Favorite pastimes: Urinating in our bushes at least 10 times a day, marking his territory on every tree in our yard. HELLO Stupid Pee Cat? Can you not tell that the ‘ol Moll-ster doesn’t have her baby making parts anymore? You are meowing up the wrong tree.
Culprit #3:
A.K.A. “Black Kitty”
Favorite pastimes: Sitting on our air conditioner outside the kitchen window, sitting on our front steps, sleeping in our driveway. He thinks he lives here.
Until this point, all three of these feline fools haven’t caused much of an issue around here other than the inconvenient odor they leave when they’ve peed in the bushes. They aren’t scroungy looking strays either. They’re obviously well fed cats who don’t wear collars which means that we can’t find their owners to tell them KEEP YOUR DUMB CATS INSIDE!
The other day; however, we were returning from getting J from school and as we pulled into the driveway Black Kitty sauntered out from behind a tree. Actually, he sort of limped and then he hopped on three legs and then my kids started in with, “WE MUST HELP BLACK KITTY! HE’S HURT! LET’S TAKE HIM TO THE VET AND PAY A SMALL FORTUNE TO HAVE HIM FIXED!!”
I pulled into the garage and told them absolutely not and then they all looked like they were about to cry. So, I got out of the van, pulled on my “Motherhood Cloak of Guilt” and proceeded to walk calmly to Black Kitty. My plan once I got to him? I don’t know. It didn’t matter because then he started to hobble away. I kept walking. He continued to hobble as he was looking over his shoulder at me in fear. So, I started in with a sing-songy voice, “Don’t worry Black Kitty. I won’t hurt you!!!”
At this point he started to run. So I began walking fast down the ice covered street. My children were in the driveway cheering me on. The cat ran faster and then he took off into my neighbor’s yard. I followed as the snow crushed into my Birkenstock clog wearing feet. This chase continued until he disappeared into the bushes. I wasn’t going there.
That evening when Mike got home, I told him about the plight of Black Kitty and how we needed to help him. My husband is a true animal lover. He will literally cry if he sees anything on t.v. about animal cruelty, so I figured he would totally agree with me that we needed to help Black Kitty. Our conversation went like this:
Me: We have to help Black Kitty. I think his paw is broken or something.
Mike: He’s fine.
Me: No, he’s not. He’s limping and it’s sad and I’m worried even though I hate that he thinks he lives here and takes naps in our driveway.
Mike: He’s faking.
Me: He’s FAKING? Are you serious?
Mike: Yes, he’s playing on your sympathy. He’s a con artist.
Me: You are nuts.
The next morning, he went into work later than usual and while the kids and I were upstairs doing our morning routine of straightening up which usually consists of me griping because my oldest son and Mike have both left their underwear behind the bathroom door after their morning showers, O shouts, “BLACK KITTY IS BACK!!! MOMMY GO GET HIM!”
Mike and I rushed into her room to look out her window and sure enough, there he was hobbling down the street and I kid you not, he was hobbling from the tree at the edge of our driveway, in front of our house and would stop at the corner. Then, he turned around and hobbled back in front of our house and stopped at the tree.
Mike said, “See I told you. He’s faking. He knows we’re watching. Ignore him.”
We haven’t seen him in days.
Either he has gone home where he belongs or he’s dead somewhere.
Poor Black Kitty
I’ve tried snapping pictures of these three stooges, but every time I try to run and get my camera, they’ve vanished. Instead you’ll have to use your imagination.
Culprit #1:
A.K.A. “Peeping Tom”
Favorite pastime: Looking at Molly (our cat) through the deck door. He’s a voyeur and it makes Molly very uncomfortable.
Culprit #2:
A.K.A. “Pee Cat”
Favorite pastimes: Urinating in our bushes at least 10 times a day, marking his territory on every tree in our yard. HELLO Stupid Pee Cat? Can you not tell that the ‘ol Moll-ster doesn’t have her baby making parts anymore? You are meowing up the wrong tree.
Culprit #3:
A.K.A. “Black Kitty”
Favorite pastimes: Sitting on our air conditioner outside the kitchen window, sitting on our front steps, sleeping in our driveway. He thinks he lives here.
Until this point, all three of these feline fools haven’t caused much of an issue around here other than the inconvenient odor they leave when they’ve peed in the bushes. They aren’t scroungy looking strays either. They’re obviously well fed cats who don’t wear collars which means that we can’t find their owners to tell them KEEP YOUR DUMB CATS INSIDE!
The other day; however, we were returning from getting J from school and as we pulled into the driveway Black Kitty sauntered out from behind a tree. Actually, he sort of limped and then he hopped on three legs and then my kids started in with, “WE MUST HELP BLACK KITTY! HE’S HURT! LET’S TAKE HIM TO THE VET AND PAY A SMALL FORTUNE TO HAVE HIM FIXED!!”
I pulled into the garage and told them absolutely not and then they all looked like they were about to cry. So, I got out of the van, pulled on my “Motherhood Cloak of Guilt” and proceeded to walk calmly to Black Kitty. My plan once I got to him? I don’t know. It didn’t matter because then he started to hobble away. I kept walking. He continued to hobble as he was looking over his shoulder at me in fear. So, I started in with a sing-songy voice, “Don’t worry Black Kitty. I won’t hurt you!!!”
At this point he started to run. So I began walking fast down the ice covered street. My children were in the driveway cheering me on. The cat ran faster and then he took off into my neighbor’s yard. I followed as the snow crushed into my Birkenstock clog wearing feet. This chase continued until he disappeared into the bushes. I wasn’t going there.
That evening when Mike got home, I told him about the plight of Black Kitty and how we needed to help him. My husband is a true animal lover. He will literally cry if he sees anything on t.v. about animal cruelty, so I figured he would totally agree with me that we needed to help Black Kitty. Our conversation went like this:
Me: We have to help Black Kitty. I think his paw is broken or something.
Mike: He’s fine.
Me: No, he’s not. He’s limping and it’s sad and I’m worried even though I hate that he thinks he lives here and takes naps in our driveway.
Mike: He’s faking.
Me: He’s FAKING? Are you serious?
Mike: Yes, he’s playing on your sympathy. He’s a con artist.
Me: You are nuts.
The next morning, he went into work later than usual and while the kids and I were upstairs doing our morning routine of straightening up which usually consists of me griping because my oldest son and Mike have both left their underwear behind the bathroom door after their morning showers, O shouts, “BLACK KITTY IS BACK!!! MOMMY GO GET HIM!”
Mike and I rushed into her room to look out her window and sure enough, there he was hobbling down the street and I kid you not, he was hobbling from the tree at the edge of our driveway, in front of our house and would stop at the corner. Then, he turned around and hobbled back in front of our house and stopped at the tree.
Mike said, “See I told you. He’s faking. He knows we’re watching. Ignore him.”
We haven’t seen him in days.
Either he has gone home where he belongs or he’s dead somewhere.
Poor Black Kitty
Friday, February 29, 2008
They'll never be winners of a spelling bee
Today I was subbing at J's school in a 3rd grade class. Because of this, I had the amazing privilege (note sarcasm) of attending the all-school assembly the last 30 minutes of the day. It was to close our their "Kindness Month". There is something sad about having to designate a specific time of the school year to be kind, instead of incorporating it into the entire year's theme. Also, why do they wait until February to talk about kindness? Shouldn't this be addressed on the first day of school? But, I digress...
Part of the month's festivities was a contest for the students in 5th grade. They could create a cheer which would be judged by teachers and the cheerleaders from our local high school. The winner would receive a pizza party for his/her class and a $100 donation to the charity of the winner's choice. The charity donation was a really good idea. If that wasn't enough, the two runners up and the grand prize winner got to actually hear the cheerleaders perform the cheer, like, that is sooooooooooo cool. (again, note sarcasm)
This really was exciting for the winners and we all sat there politely listening and watching as the cheerleaders performed. The more we watched, the more disturbed we became. It quickly became evident that the back row of cheerleaders could not spell. When the cheer was to chant "K-I-N-D-N-E-S-S" I was appalled as I watched some of the girls just totally shut down after K-I-N. They couldn't remember the rest?
It was worse with "R-E-S-P-E-C-T-F-U-L". The back row didn't even try to attempt it. How sad is that? These are high school girls that should be able to spell and clap and stomp their feet all at the same time--otherwise they shouldn't be cheerleaders!
You could argue that maybe they were confused, they lost their place in the cheer, or othe cheer was so quickly created they did not know it, but wouldn't you catch on after the 3rd or 4th time through?
Some cheerleaders (obviously not the ones in our district) work really hard to bring an attitude of R-E-S-P-E-C-T to the act of cheering, but the ones who are more interested in looking cute and shaking their hineys make me realize that I really hope my girls are more interested in PLAYING sports instead of standing on the sidelines with a fake tan and a mini-skirt.
Part of the month's festivities was a contest for the students in 5th grade. They could create a cheer which would be judged by teachers and the cheerleaders from our local high school. The winner would receive a pizza party for his/her class and a $100 donation to the charity of the winner's choice. The charity donation was a really good idea. If that wasn't enough, the two runners up and the grand prize winner got to actually hear the cheerleaders perform the cheer, like, that is sooooooooooo cool. (again, note sarcasm)
This really was exciting for the winners and we all sat there politely listening and watching as the cheerleaders performed. The more we watched, the more disturbed we became. It quickly became evident that the back row of cheerleaders could not spell. When the cheer was to chant "K-I-N-D-N-E-S-S" I was appalled as I watched some of the girls just totally shut down after K-I-N. They couldn't remember the rest?
It was worse with "R-E-S-P-E-C-T-F-U-L". The back row didn't even try to attempt it. How sad is that? These are high school girls that should be able to spell and clap and stomp their feet all at the same time--otherwise they shouldn't be cheerleaders!
You could argue that maybe they were confused, they lost their place in the cheer, or othe cheer was so quickly created they did not know it, but wouldn't you catch on after the 3rd or 4th time through?
Some cheerleaders (obviously not the ones in our district) work really hard to bring an attitude of R-E-S-P-E-C-T to the act of cheering, but the ones who are more interested in looking cute and shaking their hineys make me realize that I really hope my girls are more interested in PLAYING sports instead of standing on the sidelines with a fake tan and a mini-skirt.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I've given birth to Mike Sever
I've been homeschooling L and O, and I guess inadvertently, K this entire school year. I started out homeschooling L and O because of the sorry excuse for preschools in our area and since K wants to do everything they do, she's learning right along with them.
In the beginning of the school year, things were great, fun, exciting, thrilling--they were swell. And, for the most part, as far as O is concerned, things are still swell. L is another story...
Now, we are the complete opposite of swell. If swell were a food it would be a big, giant piece of chocolate cake dripping in luscious chocolate frosting. Right now folks, we're enduring the homeschooling equivalent of liver and onions.
These are the things he doesn't want to do ever in his little 5 year old life:
1. learn to tie his shoes
2. say the Lord's Prayer with his sisters and me. He'd rather sit like a mute even though he knows all the words. I make them say this every day because for every funeral and wedding they attend on my husband's side of the family, they'll be saying it and I want them to know what to say. Plus, I want them to learn Bible versus while we homeschool, so this is killing two birds, you might say.
3. say the Pledge of Allegiance. Again, he's mute.
4. learn to read three letter words.
5. sit still unless he's actually in a chair. How will he ever survive Kindergarten if he can't sit still on carpet?
Here is what he wants to do:
1. learn math
2. bark like a dog
3. write his first name--but not his last. He won't even include a last initial which will possibly be problematic seeing as we live in a small town and there is another boy with his same name entering Kindergarten this fall.
4. play Lego Starwars on the computer
5. talk to his sisters during story time
6. do ridiculous things to make his sisters laugh and then when corrected says, "But Mommy, I'm just trying to make them joyful!" Then he shoots me that GRIN.
It was today that I realized who he reminds me of: Mike Sever. Remember Mike from Growing Pains fame? Cute, fun loving, kind, crazy, silly Mike. It makes a great t.v. character, but a very frustrating little five year old.
Part of the problem is that I'm realizing more and more I am a perfectionist. And, although I don't voice this out loud to my children, in my mind I am comparing L to his brother J who since the moment he arrived on this earth, has been the epitome of compliant.
It's all a challenge and it's teaching me a lot of patience and I'm learning to see the positives and praise him for those instead of being a bothersome nag. I've known many people who have home schooled and none of them have ever said how frustrating it was. Either I'm doing something wrong, or they weren't being completely honest because homeschooling is hard. Sometimes it's not fun and if I had to do it indefinitely, I'm not sure I could.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying this time I have with them. In a few months they'll be off to "real" school. The house will be quiet. And I will miss L's barking and his silly jokes like crazy.
In the beginning of the school year, things were great, fun, exciting, thrilling--they were swell. And, for the most part, as far as O is concerned, things are still swell. L is another story...
Now, we are the complete opposite of swell. If swell were a food it would be a big, giant piece of chocolate cake dripping in luscious chocolate frosting. Right now folks, we're enduring the homeschooling equivalent of liver and onions.
These are the things he doesn't want to do ever in his little 5 year old life:
1. learn to tie his shoes
2. say the Lord's Prayer with his sisters and me. He'd rather sit like a mute even though he knows all the words. I make them say this every day because for every funeral and wedding they attend on my husband's side of the family, they'll be saying it and I want them to know what to say. Plus, I want them to learn Bible versus while we homeschool, so this is killing two birds, you might say.
3. say the Pledge of Allegiance. Again, he's mute.
4. learn to read three letter words.
5. sit still unless he's actually in a chair. How will he ever survive Kindergarten if he can't sit still on carpet?
Here is what he wants to do:
1. learn math
2. bark like a dog
3. write his first name--but not his last. He won't even include a last initial which will possibly be problematic seeing as we live in a small town and there is another boy with his same name entering Kindergarten this fall.
4. play Lego Starwars on the computer
5. talk to his sisters during story time
6. do ridiculous things to make his sisters laugh and then when corrected says, "But Mommy, I'm just trying to make them joyful!" Then he shoots me that GRIN.
It was today that I realized who he reminds me of: Mike Sever. Remember Mike from Growing Pains fame? Cute, fun loving, kind, crazy, silly Mike. It makes a great t.v. character, but a very frustrating little five year old.
Part of the problem is that I'm realizing more and more I am a perfectionist. And, although I don't voice this out loud to my children, in my mind I am comparing L to his brother J who since the moment he arrived on this earth, has been the epitome of compliant.
It's all a challenge and it's teaching me a lot of patience and I'm learning to see the positives and praise him for those instead of being a bothersome nag. I've known many people who have home schooled and none of them have ever said how frustrating it was. Either I'm doing something wrong, or they weren't being completely honest because homeschooling is hard. Sometimes it's not fun and if I had to do it indefinitely, I'm not sure I could.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying this time I have with them. In a few months they'll be off to "real" school. The house will be quiet. And I will miss L's barking and his silly jokes like crazy.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
But don't talk back to Darth Vader...
This little girl is so cute I want to eat her up. Judging from the amount of Star Wars watched, reinacted, and Lego Star Wars played at our house, K will be doing this pretty soon.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Safe food?
While shopping at our local, small town grocery store the other day, I walked past the meat department and spotted at huge sign with bold letters stating, "WE CARRY NO MEAT INVOLVED IN THE RECALL."
I breathed a little sigh of relief since I frequently buy meat from our local store, but at the same time, I was completely saddened that this is what the state of our food has come to.
It used to be that people had to be worried about contracting an illness from poor handling of food in their own kitchens. We all have been paranoid about washing properly after preparing poultry, and making sure our mayo stays cold at picnics. But now, we have to fear an even bigger problem and that is the safety of our food supply seems to be more and more in question. And it's not just meat. I remember a few years ago that people were getting sick from Malt-o-Meal brand dry cereal. Dry cereal? Then there's the whole spinach fiasco of not so long ago. It seemed like forever before it was back on grocery store shelves and even then, I think people were hesitant to buy it.
It's enough to make me want to move to the country, grab a big floppy hat and some overalls, and start growing my own food. For as far as we have come as a society, we should have reliable safety measures and inspection processes in place so that the welfare of the American people isn't put in jeopardy for eating a bowl of cereal.
I breathed a little sigh of relief since I frequently buy meat from our local store, but at the same time, I was completely saddened that this is what the state of our food has come to.
It used to be that people had to be worried about contracting an illness from poor handling of food in their own kitchens. We all have been paranoid about washing properly after preparing poultry, and making sure our mayo stays cold at picnics. But now, we have to fear an even bigger problem and that is the safety of our food supply seems to be more and more in question. And it's not just meat. I remember a few years ago that people were getting sick from Malt-o-Meal brand dry cereal. Dry cereal? Then there's the whole spinach fiasco of not so long ago. It seemed like forever before it was back on grocery store shelves and even then, I think people were hesitant to buy it.
It's enough to make me want to move to the country, grab a big floppy hat and some overalls, and start growing my own food. For as far as we have come as a society, we should have reliable safety measures and inspection processes in place so that the welfare of the American people isn't put in jeopardy for eating a bowl of cereal.
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