Drops of Awesome

I have no scientific or genealogical evidence to prove this theory but I do have a strong feeling that my stomach originated in the country of India. When I was pregnant with Laylee, the only food I enjoyed and could consistently keep down was Indian food from my favorite restauraunt.

I would like to stop at this juncture and give a shout out to the Bombay House Indian restaurant on University Ave in Provo, UT. Can I get a “Whoop, whoop!”? I do not think I can over-emphasize their role in my healthy pregnancy.

When we moved to Washingtonia, I greatly mourned the loss of this fabulous eatery. Then Real Simple got several hundred chefs from around the US to vote on the best cookbooks representing the foods from various countries. I rushed to the library and got the one they suggested for Indian Cooking. After a couple of weeks of dining ecstacy, I purchased the book and have loved everything I’ve made from it.

Jessica, in answer to your question:

“I love indian food but can only find really lousy recipes. Do you have any good ones?”

I have two words for you — Madhur Jaffrey. Everything in this book is absolutely fabulous. The Rogan Josh is our favorite, served with Aromatic Yellow Rice and Gujerati-style carrots and cabbage. One little hint: fresh green coriander = cilantro. That took me weeks to figure out. None of the grocery stores around had ever heard of it and she uses it in a lot of her recipes. I finally found a produce guy at an upscale store who looked at me like I was a moron and said, “It’s right over there….cilantro.”

Laylee: Where’s Cinderella’s mommy?
Me: She had to go away with Bambi’s mommy.

(strangely enough, Laylee likes the part of Bambi where the mom gets offed. She says, “Oh, now’s when Bambi’s mommy has to go away so he gets to play with his daddy cause he came home from WORK!”)

Whilst wandering through the isles of Halloween treats this week, I spotted the perfect accessory for my shmoop, a sweet black-haired mullet wig. Yes folks, that’s right and since the wonderful holiday is only days away, it was 30% off. 30% off of what, you may ask. But that doesn’t matter because it was on sale.

So right next to the frozen edamame in my cart goes the mullet (I actually don’t think it fell anywhere near the edamame since I hadn’t picked that up yet, but I’m trying to sound healthy, vegetarianish and chic. Is it working?)

When I told Danny about said mullet, he asked, “What am I supposed to be?”

“Why, a mullet of course.”

“What are you going to be for Halloween this year, Dan?” his programmer friends will ask him with giddy girlish excitement.

“A mullet.”

Iiiiiiiiii don’t know why that conversation seems so funny in my mind, but there you are. I once promised a group of his co-workers that I would bake for them every week for a year if any of them would grow a long, sweet mullet for me. Imagine my shock when they all refused. I am somewhat of a celebrity amongst the boys, most of whom are single and not accustomed to baking anything without the help of a doughboy.

Anyway, we decided to kick things up a notch and have him go as a mullet-wearing hockey player. I went as a Texas high school home-coming queen, really just an excuse to wear my massive mum (not seen in this picture). I had to remove the mum halfway through the party due to its massive size and weight. Then I just looked like a sparkly person with way too much makeup on. Laylee was a fab ghost and Magoo was a huge hit in his sumo suit.

And we may just call that a wrap on the Daring Young Family Halloween. Everyone backed their cars into the church parking lot and Laylee got to “Trunk-or-Treat” for more candy than she’ll ever be allowed to eat. For all she knows, tonight WAS Halloween. I may not dress them up again on Monday, except of course Dan who MUST WEAR THE MULLET to work.

Oh, and right before we left for the party, Laylee informed me that she no longer wanted to be a ghost. “I want to be an alligator like Ducky!”

So I gave her the same response she gets when she asks for something without saying please.

“Mommy, I want some juice.”

“That’s interesting.”

All modesty shoved under the sofa, I think I’m a pretty great cook. However I don’t usually have the slightest desire to cook first thing in the morning. So, Laylee is addicted to cold cereal, scrambled eggs and toaster waffles.

This morning after my early walk with Sandra, I decided to fully take on my role as domestic goddess and make some whole-wheat pancakes from scratch. I’ve made this recipe approximately 4 billion times (usually for dinner). I ALWAYS burn the last pan.

Well this morning I burned every single stinkin’ heart-healthy made-from-scratch why-did-I-do-this pancake. Little black hockey pucks all. I guess black is a fitting color for a hockey puck and I’m Canadian, I should know. I sort of freaked out. Laylee’s response to all the turmoil?

“When the pancakes are burnt and yucky for you, I would eat them all for you.”

And she did. I ate one too. With LOTS of peanut butter and Mrs. Butterworth’s. I’m not sure if it’s smart to eat two things that have “butter” in the title at the same time, but it hid the charcoal-ish-ness of the pucks…….sort of.

Random side-note — I just asked Laylee what Ducky is gonna be for Halloween (I hope it’s okay that I use his real name here. There are no small stuffed duck stalkers out there, right?). She got a huge grin and said, “He wants an alligator costume cause I’m making it for him toDAY so he can go trick-or-treating with me toDAY because I’m making him an alligator costume so he can get some candy and I will share my candy with HIM!”

(This was said very quickly, but I think my transcription is fairly accurate.)

The other day after I fed Magoo, Dan was trying to burp him. After quite a bit of pounding, Magoo let out a small “Urp” and smiled at Dan as if to say, “I’m done.”

Dan would have none of that.

“Come on Magoo, you can do better than that. That was just a courtesy burp.”

Okay. These people are driving me nuts. Since we bought our home, we’ve been inundated with telemarketing calls, especially those asking us to refinance our home. These started maybe 2 weeks after we signed our original mortgage. Sheesh!

We also get a ton of calls for home security systems, calls to thank us for past donations we’ve never made and ask for future donations to all kinds of causes, calls telling us we’ve “won,” you name it.

I’ve put our number on the National Do Not Call List but this does not stop people calling for “charitable donations,” if we “have a prior business relationship” with them or basically if they are in any way associated with any organization with whom whence and therefore we have done business with at one time in regards to the aforementioned………AHHHHHHHH!

So, I’m asking for your ideas on how to stop them – or at least drive them nuts. I have two suggestions:

1. Dan found a marvelous little device called THE TELECRAPPER 2000 TELEMARKETER INTERCEPTION SYSTEM. It is “a computerized system designed to intercept incoming Telemarketing calls on the first ring, and then carry on a virtual conversation with the telemarketer.”
If you go to their site and click on “example conversations” you can hear the machine carrying on long and laugh-until-you-cry-funny conversations with unsuspecting telemarketers. We do not have the device as it is not exactly “market ready.” However, it’s definitely worth a listen.

2. Refinance your home. That’s right folks. Now that we’ve been out of college for more than 10 minutes and are “land holders”, we can get a much better rate on a real home loan from a reputable lender. So now when they call we say, “What a great idea! We’re doing that right now. Can you please take us off your calling list?”

What have you got for me? I’m sure you can do better than this. I dare you.

Some friends and I decided to start a home school preschool co-op for our 2-3 year olds. Today was the big first day. We settled on doing a song, a story, a craft and a snack — all based around a theme. Simple enough, right? Well my friend – let’s call her “Lucy” – was first. I was the designated helper today. This is a chronicle of what I witnessed (and some thoughts):
”She moved every piece of furniture in her family room so that the kids could sit on cushions in a big circle. (I may do something like this too)
”They sang a welcome song, a song about the days of the week and some other song I’m forgetting. (Well, her songs are more copious and more educational than mine were planning to be but she’s got to fill 2 hours, right?)
”They learned about squares, the number 1, the letter O, and the color orange. (No, she did not also teach them to write computer code in binary. However, I am planning to save the 1s and Os for that purpose when they come to my house next week.)

”She had the letters, numbers and shapes taped around the room for them to find. (Doable. I can draw. I can tape.)
”Then they hunted for other orange objects. (I eat meat but I’m not a big hunter….here’s where she starts to lose me.)

”They learned how to predict the weather and sang a song about it. (Don’t know the first thing about meteorology so we’ll probably have to skip this one. I left my Doppler radar in my “other” diaper bag.)
”She traced their bodies and then dipped their hands and feet in paint and helped them make prints on their life-sized drawings of themselves. (Paint, feet, hands, 2-year-olds, my carpet. AHHHHH!!!! Better enjoy it here kiddies. This is where the fun lives.)

”There was a bowl handy to wash their hands and feet as they finished (here’s where I “helped”).
”They took turns feeding “Dish” the Betta fish. (I’m sure Jack could out-chow Dish any day but I’m not sure I want to exploit his eating disorder.)
”They listened to their own hearts beating with a stethoscope and then pasted hearts to the chests of their paper clones. (Again with the science, nicely executed but probably still beyond my realm of imaginativeness.)
”They learned about tummies and then pasted ORANGE stomachs onto the giant paper dolls.
”They filled their tummies with a smorgasbord of snacks, including vegetables, fruits, crackers, yogurt, string cheese and ORANGE cheese cut into little LETTER Os. (Animal crackers and apple slices, anyone? I got me some cheerios too, out in the garage.)

”THEY WENT OUT BACK TO PLAY IN THE BOUNCY HOUSE!!!!!! (I’m sorry to yell, but that sentence calls for ALL CAPS. We have no yard which was a decision largely based on the fact that we have no bouncy house to go in it, so what’s the point……I mean really?)

”They read a story about feet (This I can do).

”We took a picture of their feet (This I did do).

”They played instruments. (I can hook them up with some sweet maracas, drums and a kid-friendly piano.)

”The children formed a focus group and decided that they will never be satisfied with their own pathetic moms ever again.

My conclusions based on this evidence are:
a) Lucy is a professional, using us as test specimens before starting her own multi-billion dollar preschool empire.
b) She decided to use a Shock and Awe offensive strategy to throw us off our guard so we would spend the next weeks scrambling around for ideas, with no leader and complete civil unrest….
c) She is the cutest person ever and I’m so glad we’re doing this little experiment together.

Don’t forget tomorrow’s tip – How do you get rid of telemarketers?

So I’ll do it in my blog.

Confession #1: I let my daughter put Ketchup on ANYTHING if it will get her to eat food.

Conversation this afternoon as the fridge door stood open:
Laylee: Is that Ketchup Sauce?
Me: Nope. It’s Mirin.
Laylee: Is that Lemon Juice?
Me: Yes.
Laylee: Is that rice?
Me: No. It’s diced garlic.
Laylee: Is that Ketchup Sauce?
Me: No. (It is a bottle of chocolate sauce but I decide its best not to open up the Pandora’s box that is….a liquid form of the “c” word in our very fridge.)
Laylee: Is that Ketchup Sauce?
Me: No. That’s Teriyaki.
Laylee: Oh, is it for Carrie?
Me: No. It’s not Carrie’s Yaki.
I close the fridge.

Confession #2: Since I was in elementary school, I have eaten Kit-Kat bars like this:

Confession #3: We have already re-bought Halloween candy “for the trick-or-treaters” twice this season.

Whew! I feel so much better getting that off my chest.

Side-note: Blogger ate this entry right after I typed it and uploaded all my photos the first time. Laylee was sitting on my lap when Blogger lost its mind. I asked her to get down because “mommy needs to whig out now.” She got down but stood at my feet pleading, “I wanna wig too, mommy. Please. Please can I have a wig too?”

Okay, here’s another link to Heather’s blog. I just love this entry. It’s too flippin’ true.

In a moment Dan will come in and he will say its bedtime and I really should go. We have to get up for church at ridiculous o’clock in the morning to get everyone ready and out the door by 8:30am. But I don’t wanna go to bed!

Do you ever feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day when he and Andie MacDowell stay up all night so that the inevitable next day will not come, he will not have to face that Sonny and Cher song, Ned Ryerson (Bing!), Punxatony Phil and all those crazy people one more day?

Sometimes I feel like that. I was at a party tonight, the ending to a fun but much too short Saturday. I did not want to leave. We were the last people there, they were putting their kids to bed, our kids were on the verge of major meltdown and I just planted myself and refused to leave. It was 3 hours past Laylee and Magoo’s bedtime when we finally shuffled out of there, the last guests at a really fun party.

I just had this feeling of dread. If we leave now, then we have to go home to our messy house. If we go home to our messy house, then we have to clean it and go to bed. If we go to bed, then we’ll have to wake up, go to church, have a nice but much too short Sunday, go to bed again, get up again……and the weekend will be OVER!!! AHHHHH!!!! Then that Sonny and Cher song will come on the radio, we’ll have to get up, Dan will go to work and we’ll start all over again. No, we definitely cannot leave this party!

I am addicted to weekends. Today:

-Got up and went to a women’s church service day with Magoo and Karli.
-Heard some great talks and beautiful music, got all stoked to do better and be nicer to people.

-Took Magoo home for a nap and returned to women’s thingy.
-Called Karli on her cell phone from within the church because I couldn’t find her.
-Sewed 3 teddy bears for orphans (No, I am not making this up).
-Ate a boxed lunch salad with friends where we taught my good friend L, who grew up in Honduras, how to play MASH to foretell her future. She will marry David Letterman (not her first choice), live in an apartment, drive a limousine and have 4 children (she is married, turns 40 next week, has two kids, lives in a nice house and drives a sweet minivan).
-Got into a discussion about the merits of Oprah and whether or not she ever makes anonymous donations.

-Drove home with Karli by way of the library (where I picked up the book Blackbird recommended for Laylee) , the post office (where I mailed a frugal reader book) , the DQ where we ordered frosty treats to balance out the salads.
-Read Laylee library book multiple times.
-Cuddled with my shmoop.
-Went and got my hair cut short because it’s still falling out and now I look like a short-haired witch.
-Cuddled with my shmoop.
-Made a yummy cream-cheesy sausage dip for L’s 40th birthday party.
-Socialized with great friends while the kids played and were read to by adorable older children.
-Turned on the light in the room where Laylee was playing the piano and she said, “No. The light has to stay off. I’m playing Dark Music.” This may be one of my favorite things she’s ever said.
-Told Laylee it was time to go home and she said, “No, I have to play some lots of songs.”
-I said, “Okay, you can play one lots of songs and then we have to go home.”
-Laylee said, “Please, can I play 5 lots of songs?”
-I couldn’t resist so she played a song with words something like, “then, I go to nursery and na na ra ma so shusi ma na oh oh and there was bugs on the floo-oor. The End.”
-I said, “Okay, that’s one lots of songs.” And she corrected me, “Nope. That was lots of 5 songs. Let’s go!” and hopped down.

Now we’re home, Dan’s in bed and I’m typing until my head stops spinning, thinking about the wonderful minutiae of my day. Laylee is still talking to Ducky. She’s telling him, “You don’t hit people. You don’t hit people. You just go to bed and eat lunch and have a star-shine, and have a wall, yeah a wall, and a nightlight and a room, and a diaper to wear on your bum, a diaper to wear when you’re a baby. The end. You are my little baby weeOOOOOOOO. We don’t hit people.”

Is it just me or does everyone want to keep baby monitors in their kids’ rooms indefinitely just so they can hear what they DO in there? Her conversations are fascinating.

Lately she’s been giving Ducky a lot more positive reinforcement than negative and that’s a relief, “You did a GOOD job Ducky. Does that make you feel glad? Does that make you feel glad if you’re obedient, Ducky?”

I wonder if I went to bed if it would make me feel glad. Hmmmm? Maybe so. My shmoop is in there…and my pillows.

OOOOOOHHHHH! By the way, you know you’ve “made it” in the internet world when you type the words — high waisted jeans- into msn search and your site is the TOP HIT! Yep, I’m famous for talking about mom jeans. Yippee!

And goodnight.