How Not Too Cook - Pork Chops

Once a week, I get together with my friend Danielle, and we cook something from The Food Network.com recipe site. This week we attempted pork chops. Enjoy the 4 minutes of pure comedy. You will learn nothing.

From The Mouth Of Babes

I was frustrated with my daughter.

BoopaLoop's picture taken by me and then improved by AllThingsBD

She wasn't eating dinner, and I was pretending she was until she hurt her foot messing around in the kitchen. (After spending 30 minutes eating my dinner, I excuse myself, so I don't see the 3-course microwaved meal I slaved over get sneered at.)

My BoopaLoop comes sobbing into the living room where I'm hanging out trying to ignore her. When she falls into my lap, I say, "No! You wouldn't have hurt yourself if you had been listening to me and staying in your chair while eating dinner!!" (Picture flames surrounding my head.)

BoopaLoop continues sobbing as she pathetically scampers to the dining room table.

I shake my head at my Mom who is giving me a strange look.

Soon, I hear the thumping of feet coming from the dining room table. I know it isn't BoopaLoop since I still hear her sobbing at the table.

LittleMan pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen.

LittleMan - "Geez, Mom! At least give her a hug!"

Me - "..."

Me - Contritely "BoopaLoop, would you like a hug?"

I really should have been put on time out.

Can You Help A Mom Out?

I'm a morning person.

Me and my brother, All Things BD's hubby, Christmas morning 2010

Others in my family... are not.

The side-effect of being a morning person (aside from the derision of friends and strangers alike) is that by the time the clock strikes 5 PM, I'm beyond done. I'm exhausted. I'm grumpy. I'm useless.

Fortunately, My Mukor takes over the night time duties since he's a night owl. So, our kids live in a perpetual illusion that their parents are happy people.

Until the truth rears its ugly head.

In order to prevent my grumpy Mr. Hyde from taking over, I come up with short cuts that reduce my evening workload. And I get to waste away on my couch.

The children are now old enough that they don't require my hawking attention any longer, so I just yell instructions at them in the hopes they do at least 50% of what I'm saying. "ARE YOUR TEETH BRUSHED?!" "Hurmph.", they garble in unison. I have no idea how good of a job they are doing, but that doesn't matter. THEY are doing it. I am NOT.

In an effort to further efficien-tize the evening getting-ready-for-bed ritual, I have the children shower. They insist on showering together, and I'm okay with it as long as they aren't playing doctor. Most of the time, they require me to get off the comfortable couch to tell them that it is time to end the shower. I turn off the nob, and then sit back down.

I realized that this step of turning off the shower was a waste of my God-given talents. They are perfectly capable of turning off the shower themselves. I just needed to give them proper incentive.

Me - "You have 5 minutes left to shower. If you turn off the shower yourselves, I will give you each thirty cents!"

Children - Chorus of cheers!

As I'm leaving the bedroom feeling very successful in my brilliant incentive plan, I overhear the following:

LittleMan - "I don't care about money. I want to play!"

I need a new plan.

Pick Your Moment Wisely

We have two children.

Christmas 2010

BoopaLoop is 6 years, and LittleMan is 8 years.

I had been watching a lot of the crime dramas on T.V. the last few weeks, and it distressed me to see how many shows depicted the victim as an 8 year old child. In all instances, the child was first kidnapped by strangers.

After torturing myself by watching these programs in their entirety, I was somehow inspired to revisit the whole Stranger Danger talk with my children.

I just needed their undivided attention.

Right before bedtime every night, my Mukor reads to the kids. But, before they are read to, the children are forced to do menial labor in form of cleaning their bedroom. Sometimes, a miracle happens and the children finish cleaning before my Mukor is ready to read to them, so they have a few precious minutes to play!

A couple of nights ago, I walked into their bedroom to find it spotless.

At first, I was shocked! Then, I gave them high praise for doing such an amazing job so quickly.

Hugs were exchanged. Self-satisfied smiles were shared.

And then, I launched into my Stranger Danger talk. I gave my kids both barrels of reality. I talked about how it is okay to hurt anyone who tries to take you anywhere you don't want to go. I explained how to run to another Mom with small children if you are ever separated from me.

In other words, I went on and on.

But, I had their full attention.

While I was spewing forth the nastiness of life on my young children, I began to question the wisdom of doing this just before they slept. Bye bye, happy unicorn and friendly robot dreams! Hello, nightmares!

I then ended with a question, "Do you guys have any questions about what I was talking about?"

Both children were looking at me like I just told them that I could sprout wings and fly.

A few seconds of complete silence passed when LittleMan said,

"Awe, Mom. You just wasted our play time."

I thought that went well.

The Light After The End Of The Tunnel

I have been wanting to update my blog for some time now, but the reason for my prolonged absence was fairly depressing, and I didn't know how to write about it.

My sister-in-law, AllThingsBD, does a great job of encapsulating "the event" that took place and put my life on temporary hold. However, I feel like I should add some kind of Zen statement that can put into perspective my reality. But, right now I feel woefully lacking. I don't have the right words. All I know is that I made it out whole, and I have only God to thank for that. Otherwise, reality would have sat on my face and smothered me.

My Mom, the one who taught me tennis, to hate shopping, my greatest cheerleader, one of my best friends was on the precipice of death, and I had to make the decision on whether or not to gamble the rest of her life with the possibility of living brain damaged for its duration.

This was the singular moment during this whole crisis that was pinnacle. Do I believe in God? Do I trust in something beyond what I know? I certainly wasn't going to trust my Mom's life to this doctor who studied medicine. He's human. He's fallible. I'm human. I'm fallible - so what do I do in this situation regarding my Mom's life?

The doctor broke it down for me: We can either do nothing, and your Mom will die peacefully - or we can operate and live with the consequences.

Under normal circumstances, doing nothing would not be an option... but what if the consequence for doing something was far worse than death. I pictured myself sitting with my Mom who had survived surgery but who was only a shell with working parts inside. What kind of life is that?

Then the enormity of my questions hit me - who am I to judge the quality of my Mom's life? Who is to say that sitting around with no brain function isn't a quality life? Who is there to judge that? If I was to assume that there is no purpose to life other than the pleasure we get out of existence, then I might as well let her die. What pleasure is there in life by simply existing?

However, if I believe in God, and that there is a greater purpose to my Mom's existence, then I have to believe that making the "right" choice should be obvious. But there was no obvious choice. Until...

I remember babbling to the doctor asking me if he should operate on my Mom about my Mom. I told him how she is a Christian, how she believes in the miracle of science, and how she doesn't want to live life as a vegetable. The doctor kind of looked at me like, "That still doesn't tell me what your decision is."

I was, again, waiting for the obvious choice. I was just talking hoping that since I had sided with God that He would give me a sign. I'm waiting, God!

Suddenly I was stuck with an idea (was it divine inspiration?), "Doctor, can you open my Mom up, see what kind of damage we are talking about, and re-evaluate at THAT time?"

The doctor perked up, "Sure! If it looks bad, I'll come talk to you. If it is simple, I might be able to repair her."

Me, "Great!" That seemed like an obvious option.

One hour into surgery went by...

Two hours...

Three hours...

Four hours... My cousin-in-law, a former respiratory therapist, said, "The longer he's doing surgery the more likely it is that he's repairing her. That's good news."

Five hours later the Neurosurgeon came out with a smile on his face. "She's fine. I took about a 1/4 cup of brain matter out. I hung two units of blood that I ended up not needing. Now, we just wait and see how much she understands."

There is more drama to this story about the year and 1/2 of recovery and fighting for my Mom's care, but I wanted to record how I put my faith into God's hands - no matter the outcome. Some might consider this shifting responsibility from myself onto a God that doesn't exist, but words can't adequately describe the peace I felt after making that decision with the doctor. Sure, I lamented that choice during the months that followed, but the proof of God in my Mom's life never wavered.

Only my faith in God did.

I will continue to share what has been going on with me and my family this last year and 1/2, but I will not make you wait to see the good news.

Here is a picture of my Mom 7 months after the surgery (February 2010):

And here is a picture of my Mom Christmas 2010 (6 months after they put a shunt in her brain to regulate the fluids):

I never expected that my Mom's recovery would be so miraculous. I simply hoped that whatever state my Mom ended up in that God would do amazing things with her.

More of the story to follow. I'm just so happy to be back blogging!

Happy 4th of July! IT'S PLAYTIME!!

I'll post our 4th of July festivities on my next blog. Herein lies the reason my blog is pretty dead: It's SUMMERTIME PLAY, baby!

Allowing the children to run to the playground seemed like a good idea - until I saw everyone ditch MamaDB's Charlie Brown. He didn't seem to notice, though.

Pretty cool teeter-totter. LittleMan "assisting" Lucy and Charlie Brown in getting the structure to rock. Charlie planted himself at this location for quite a while after the other two left.

BoopaLoop wanted to help push too. Not surprisingly, this desire quickly faded to be replaced by "I want to swing too".

Thanks to MamaDB's family, we deemed gorgeous weather and beautiful company a grand reason to break out the water slide again. The following day we came up with another excuse to break it out again.

BoopaLoop is getting more and more confident in the water as she gets older and begins to trust her swim instructors.

Nothing like playing with your friends in a water slide during the summer.

My Mukor playing "monster" with the kids before we had dinner celebrating LittleMan's birthday.

For AllThingsBD's consideration for Fashion Tuesday

BoopaLoop getting appropriately attired (thanks to Lucy) for summertime play in the backyard. Notice the criss-cross velcro straps on her shoes? She does this every time she puts these shoes on, and I don't know where she got this idea.

Have a wonderful Independence Day! Be safe.

"I don't like him! Bring me someone else."

This blog title is a quote from Robin Williams who was the stand-up comedian act before Barbara Streisand's One Voice concert (back in the dinosaur age or the late 1980's, I think). He was looking out at the audience full of people who spent $5K per person to be there to see Babs sing, and what he saw was a sea of powerful celebrities. Governors. Mayors. Actors. Singers.

Robin Williams claimed that this quote was what the audience was thinking while they were watching him.

What does this have to do with my blog? Not much actually... but it is what came to mind when I was thinking of what my BoopaLoop did.

A few days ago, BoopaLoop came out of her bedroom.

Naked.

BoopaLoop - Mom! I don't have any skirts to wear.

Me - Are you certain? I just washed your clothes.

BoopaLoop - Really.

Me - [Thinking about the clean clothes I washed] What about the pink one?

BoopaLoop - I put it in the drawer.

Me - Then why don't you wear it.

BoopaLoop - [Sighing heavily] Noooo, not THAT drawer. The other drawer where I put clothes that don't fit me.

Me - [?!?!?!] They don't fit you?! But, I think they are size 5 or 6. (She wears a size 4 or 5.)

I got up from the couch to go check this out. There is a drawer under my children's closet that I have designated the these-clothes-are-too-small drawer. Once the drawer fills up, I stuff, jam gently pack the clothes up in a box marked "GARAGE SALE".

However, when I opened the drawer, there was a huge number of clothes in there - many of which I had just purchased. None of which I put in there.

I started to pull the clothes out of the drawer one at a time.

Me - This jacket is too small?

BoopaLoop - I couldn't zip it up.

Me - I see. What about these pants?

BoopaLoop - I couldn't button it.

Me - Ah. Oh here! This is the pink skort I was talking about. They should still fit you.

BoopaLoop - But, the strings wouldn't tie up!

Now, I understand.

This drawer is where BoopaLoop puts her clothes on Time-Out.

Day Late and a Dollar Short

I think I'm on Jamaican time. I didn't order AllThingBD's present in time, I didn't mail off my niece's present in time, and I didn't post this Happy Birthday blog in time.

Right now, I have a system to assure that I get to appointments on time or early. I set my car clock ahead 5 minutes. This way I scream through traffic and take short cuts to make certain I arrive on time.

Yes, I recognize as I'm looking at the clock that it is set 5 minutes ahead, but for some reason this works for me.

I don't have a good solution for things that are in my calendar. Perhaps I should set it 5 days ahead.

In any case, back to the purpose of this blog.

Happy 7th Birthday, LittleMan! (one day late)

I love you, LittleMan.

How Not To Cook - Shrimp Linguini

I believe I mentioned in my last How Not To Cook post that MamaDB and I had come up with a better format for displaying our mad cooking skillz. Turns out that the new method really is better editing. Well, I'm not a professional editor nor do I play one on TV, so you (the audience) kind of get what you get.

However, I'm not a total jerk, and I have decided to dedicate a little more time to editing this next HNTC video.

So, please enjoy this latest version of How Not To Cook.

Linguine with Shrimp and Lemon Oil

Source: Food Network.com

Serves: 4-6

LEMON OIL:

• 1/2 (c)up Extra-Virgin Olive Oil
• 1 Lemon (zested)

PASTA:

• 1 lb Linguine Pasta
• 2 (T)ablespoons Olive Oil
• 2 Shallots (diced) [we used green onions]
• 2 Garlic Cloves (minced)
• 16 oz Frozen Shrimp
• 1/4 c Lemon Juice
• 1 Lemon (zested)
• 1 (t)easpoon salt
• 1/2 t Freshly Ground Black Pepper
• 3 oz Arugula [we used Spinish Leaves]
• 1/4 c Fresh Flat-Leaf Parsley (chopped)

Step 1: For the lemon oil, combine the olive oil and the lemon zest in a small bowl and reserve.

Step 2: Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally (~8-10 minutes). Drain pasta, reserving 1 cup of the cooking liquid.

Step 3: Meanwhile, in a large, heavy skillet, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Add shallots and garlic and cook for 2 minutes.

Step 4: Add the shrimp and cook until pink (~ 5 minutes).

Step 5: Add the cooked linguine, lemon juice, lemon zest, salt and pepper. Toss to combine.

Step 6: Turn off the heat and add the arugula. Using a mesh sieve, strain the lemon zest out of the reserved lemon olive oil and add the oil to the pasta. The zest can be discarded.

Step 7: Add the chopped parsley to the pasta and toss to combine. Serve immediately.

5 Items Of Note:

1. There is actually no MEASURABLE difference between a dry measuring cup and a liquid one. Whichever one is easiest for you to use for measuring is the one you should use. Check it out at Kitchen Savvy.

2. Be careful what you ask for when you suggest to your cooking partner that she do something other than "watch a pot boil".

3. Read the entire recipe before you assume that "THE OLIVE OIL" means the lemon zested, 1 cup version rather than the 2 teaspoon version.

4. Verify that the frozen shrimp you bought is in fact shelled, deveined and without tails.

5. I'm certain there is a lesson here about what sized pot to use for various pasta amounts, but I still haven't learned it.

Kindergarten Graduation?

LittleMan has graduated. At age 6. Who knew it would happen so quickly? Okay, fine - it isn't a REAL graduation. He is going from Kindergarten to 1st grade.

I'm reminded of a quote from Mr. Incredible in "The Incredibles" - "They keep creating ways to celebrate mediocrity."

If it isn't bad enough to have the children don caps and march to "Pomp and Circumstance", they are also given awards. Now, I would love for these awards to mean something, but they don't really. You see, every child in Kindergarten graduates and receives at least one award. The only time you are allowed to have more than one award is if you won the coveted "Perfect Attendance" award.

So, the bottom line is that we don't care how well you are doing at school as long as you show up.

Every child received one of these four awards:

- Honors in English

- Honors in Math

- Excellent Citizenship

- Excellent Effort

LittleMan received "better than average" scores for both English and Math, but they can't give him more than one award. That would be... unfair - perhaps accurate, but unfair to those children who earned no award (but are given the catch-all-award, Excellent Effort). So, LittleMan received the Honors in English award. Yay.

I genuinely don't understand the point of this ceremony. Are we celebrating their attendance? Are we celebrating their progress? Are we celebrating their existence? Frankly, it all seems pointless. The kids don't seem to get the importance of it other than ceremonies are important.

Whatever.

I decided to shut up and enjoy the moment too.

The happy graduate.

Self-posed graduate.

BoopaLoop is such a great little sister. She handled the 1 1/2 hour ceremony (1 hour wait and then the ceremony) without a single complaint!

Grandma and BoopaLoop

LittleMan walks the aisle with pride.

The best part - hanging out at your favorite lunch spot with family. Congratulations, LittleMan... for something!

Why Watch Comedies When I Live Them

Or maybe it is only I who thinks that my children are pretty hilarious.

Let me quantify this hilarity by saying that I don't mean that my children tell mean knock-knock jokes. Although, who can get tired of the punch lines that usually involve the noun of the joke bonking someone on the head. Now that's pure comedy!

However, what I'm referring to here is how my children constantly surprise me. Let me give you these examples from each of my children:

BoopaLoop has been obsessed with the "Iny-miny-miney-moe" form of selection.

Me - Which top do you want to wear to school?

BoopaLoop - Can I do Iny-miny-miney-moe?

She rarely picks the one that "wins", but at least she picks SOMETHING.

Me - Do you want to go to the park or home?

BoopaLoop - Can I do Iny-miny-miney-moe?

Seriously, she does it for every choice.

We were at Costco, and I was debating which fruit to buy. So, I made the mistake of asking BoopaLoop.

Me - Honey, should we get grapes or strawberries?

BoopaLoop - Can I do Iny-miny-miney-moe?

Me - (Sighing inside) Sure.

BoopaLoop - Iny-miny-miney-moe. Catch the tiger by the toe. When he hollers let him go. My mother told me to pick the best one and you are it! (Her finger was pointing to the grapes.) I want both of them.

Me - (Laughing)

Later that day during dinner at home...

BoopaLoop - I'm still hungry.

Me - Would you like more chicken or broccoli?

BoopaLoop - Can I do Iny-miny-miney-moe.

Me - (Sighing inside) Sure.

BoopaLoop - (She ends pointing at the chicken. She blinks.) I don't want either.

Okay, perhaps it isn't THAT funny, but to see a four year old go through all that just to declare what she really wants is just funny to me.

Then we have LittleMan. I told him that we have to get the house ship-shape for this birthday party this Saturday. I asked him and BoopaLoop to clean the playroom.

This job should have taken 5 - maybe 10 minutes. Instead, LittleMan came into the kitchen to inform me that he was done after working for 45 minutes! I just assumed that he did the job and then began playing. I had no idea he had been working that long.

I wandered out to the playroom to find the playroom spotless, but again, I didn't think it would take that long.

Me - This is wonderful guys!

LittleMan - But that's not all.

Me - ?!?!?!?!?!

LittleMan took me by the hand and led me to my bedroom

LittleMan - I organized your closet, and I made your bed. I put your pajamas on your pillow for tonight.

My heart melted right there. The reason I find this hysterical though is because this particular tendency for neatness did NOT come from me. This behavior is straight from My Mukor. I love my men.

As you can tell from my footwear, I'm not a dress-up kind of gal. In fact, I own exactly two pairs of dress-up shoes, and one of them was sitting in my car at the time of this picture. You never know when you have to throw on some strappy shoes to wear with your jeans. Right?

The fact that LittleMan did this for me and thought it was something special made me realize that perhaps I should make his bed more often. Usually I leave that chore to them. If they want their beds made, they will make it - but seeing as how he considered this to be a real treat for me gave me pause. I think I'll surprise him on his birthday with a made bed with his pajamas on his pillow.

Family At Play

I have been very bad about keeping up with my blog. It isn't because there hasn't been anything to blog about, but I have been so busy these days, I haven't had time to blog. That's not the part I miss though. What I miss most is reading all of your blogs. I'm going to do that as soon as I post these pictures.

Today, we took a deep breath and enjoyed our yard. I had been unable to take full advantage of these quiet moments since it is when my body is at rest that my mind works overtime - but not today. I wouldn't allow it!

Here are my pup-pups playing together.

Winnie (the dog in white) is 14 lbs. Travis is 45 lbs. It took a few days for them to figure out how to play together. Travis didn't want to hurt Winnie, so initially he just stood there staring at Winnie while Winnie yipped at him. It was pretty funny. Now, Winnie runs around like a mad dog while Travis chases, and Winnie will gnaw on Travis's neck.

There are moments as a mom where you try not to let your overactive imagination get the better of you. For example, you see your child wander from the bathroom with a cup full of water, enter their bedroom, and then exit the bedroom with an empty cup. A mom will want an immediate explanation, but I have a tendency to SCREAM my request for information rather than staying calm. I am working on this.

Today, I watched as my children took their flexible pop-up tent, a picnic plate and a bunch of flower petals away from their usual spot. Rather than SCREAM for an explanation, I secretly followed them.

This is what I found.

They are having a tea party in the garden. Yes, I am VERY relieved that I didn't yell at them.

I can always tell when my children think they are doing something they think I will not approve of. Fortunately, this wasn't one of those times. I can tell because they are both smiling at the camera rather than hiding, and they look relaxed rather than stressed out that mom is going to blow.

After a while, we came inside, and BoopaLoop requested that I paint her toe nails. I got out my hot pink nail polish and went to work. Seeing how much fun we were having, LittleMan asked if I could paint his nails.

Me - Sure, honey. I have this clear nail polish that would be perfect for you. (Sexist, I know.)

LittleMan - Awe, why can't I have the pink nail polish.

Me - (After only the slightest of hesitations) You can. Would you like pink?

LittleMan - (Smiling from ear to ear) YEAH!

I go about putting on the pink nail polish on LittleMan.

BoopaLoop - (To LittleMan) You look like a girl.

She giggles.

LittleMan - Mom? Can you take off this nail polish?

Me - Why?! It looks so nice.

LittleMan - Uh, I don't think it is appropriate.

I have to be honest - I was SERIOUSLY relieved.