Drops of Awesome

Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson

Tip Tuesday — Making Dinners Easier

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A few years ago, I started having a weekly tip smackdown on Tuesdays and after a while I got sick of it and petered out. But I’ve been missing it for quite some time (Oh how I love harvesting your minds for ideas!) and so I’m starting it up again. Today we’re talking about one of the never ending chores of family life, feeding the people so that the people can live.

I get sick of making dinners but unlike Tip Tuesdays, I can’t just discontinue dinner. Someone might notice. Someone might complain. Someone might call the authorities.

So I try to make it as easy as possible. Here are a few of my tips.

1. Make a plan. If I wait until dinner time rolls around, things will get grim. Boxes and cans that should really be saved for the apocalypse due to their shelf-life, lack of nutritional value, and imperviousness to nuclear radiation are often brought out and combined in unappealing ways. These meals can involve canned meat. They never involve happiness and satisfaction.

First I have a list of emergency meals I can make in a pinch. These include scrambled eggs, quesadillas, sandwiches, spaghetti that I boil and then pour the bottled sauce on top and let the noodles warm it, pancakes, etc.

Then I plan a week’s worth of “real” meals and shop for them. So, I’m never left wondering “What’s for dinner?” and even though I may decide not to really cook one day, I can use one of my fall-back meals.

2. Form a Dinner Co-op. I’ve talked about dinner co-ops and super swapping before on this blog. I’ve done this off and on for years and I love it. It’s really saved me during this pukey part of the pregnancy. Once a week I’m forced to cook a really nice main dish for a few other families and deliver it to their homes. Then the rest of the week warm delicious meals magically arrive at my door and all I have to provide are the veggies to go with them.

We all buy matching pyrex and tupperwares and pass them around as we cook so we never worry about getting our dishes back. We have a scheduled drop-off time so we know when we can expect to be fed. Once a month we send a list of the meals we’re planning on making to the scheduler, who makes a calendar for the month, spreading out the foods so that we get a good variety each week. When you’re only cooking once a week, you bring you’re A-game so we get some really delicious food. We save money buying in bulk. I don’t have to worry about dinner most of the week. It helps the kids feel a sense of community as we deliver and receive meals from various families. Each night they ask who the dinner came from. It’s like a commune but with more frequent deodorant usage.

3. Have an emergency back-up plan for crazy times in your lives. I found this in the form of a book by Mary Jo Rulnick. The book is called The Frantic Woman’s Guide to Feeding Family and Friends. It does all the planning for you, complete with shopping lists, recipes, meal plans and preparation tips for every season of the year. It’s really a great resource even if you don’t follow all of her recipe plans but if you do, it’s like a brain vacation for dinner preparation. She does all the planning and all you have to do is follow her daily instructions for shopping, prep and cooking. The recipes are simple and it’s the perfect answer for those times in your life when you just don’t have the energy left to plan one more thing.

She also has great general tips on saving time and effort in the kitchen and sections on what to do with holiday leftovers, an entire week of ham recipes and an entire week of leftover turkey ideas.

So here’s the part I like best about Tip Tuesday, the part where you leave your tips in the comment section. What do you do to make dinner time easier or more enjoyable? Do you have any simple meal ideas you can share with us?

Easter

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EasterEggDyingWe had a great Easter today. Magoo woke up bright and early and came into my room ticked that there was a baby gate at the top of the stairs. Yes, young padawan, you really think I trust you not to run down there at the crack of dawn (as though dawn exists in Seattle before June) and eat yourself into a diabetic coma? Not so much with the trusting. Very much with the child restraints. He calmed a bit when I told him to snuggle in bed with me while Dan finished his shower. Calmed and then fell almost immediately back to sleep. It’s like he’d been awakened by his chocolate radar and once he realized that the chocolate was surrounded by a parentally-induced force-field, he lost the will to remain sentient.

I mean come on, after all the trouble we parents go through to help put out the baskets and make our home a welcoming environment for the bunny-man, we deserve to see the looks on their faces when they run down and dig through that grass for treats and prizes. This year Dad was in charge of “setting the mood for the bunny’s arrival — edible division” and the sugar flowed FREE-LY. Holy Dina Cow! There were a lot of chocolate and marshmallow things brought into this house, many of which will be finding their way to Megacorp in the morning.

EasterMorning-125Some things that did stay were the two giant chocolate bunnies. Each a foot tall, containing almost a pound of chocolate. They may not ever make a return trip to this house but the video of the kids gnawing on them is priceless.

I “helped the bunny feel welcome — toy division” and the kids ended up with flashlights, a big Frisbee and a rubber snake.

Church was a good opportunity to get the kids grounded back in the real meaning of the holiday, although their thoughts were never far from their treasures at home.

At one point this afternoon, Magoo ran up to me. “Oh Mom! My snake is so cute!” He then stared up at the ceiling and yelled as if to the heavens, “YANK YOU EASTER BUNNY!”

I’m not sure he lives “up there” so much. But I’m sure he heard the thanks and was grateful for it.

I cut way back on dinner this year — ham, potatoes, corn, green beans and Pillsbury crescent rolls. It was nice, not overwhelming and I think it may be a foreshadowing of Easters to come. I usually go a little crazy overboard with the side dishes and homemade everything. But this year it was simple and Laylee called me “The Best Mom Chef Ever.” Dan agreed that it was the perfect Easter dinner, not too much, just enough. Lazy pregnant Kathryn is teaching regular Kathryn many tricks and shortcuts that regular Kathryn will remember and revel in for years to come.

We then scooped up the kids, took the new gospel art book our church has just come out with and narrated through many of the major events of Christ’s life with the chronological paintings. Then we did the Easter egg lesson about the days leading up to Easter. The whole thing lasted a little over half an hour and it was fun and the kids stayed with us most of the time and participated, making me feel less guilty about the party atmosphere that accompanies the serious stuff.

I think the best part of the day was at dinner when I told Laylee and Magoo that some of our friends have asked the Easter Bunny not to visit their homes because they want to focus more on the Savior and what He did for us and less on the candy and treats. They looked horrified and then an analogy came to me.

Can you imagine if it was your birthday and some friends threw a huge party and celebrated and had treats and gave each other presents and food and played games but never looked at you or talked to you or wrote your name on the cake? Technically it was your birthday party but everyone there ignored you. This was shocking. I told them that for a lot of people that’s how they celebrate Easter and Christmas, not giving any thought to what the celebration was really about.

Laylee thought this was awful. But I explained. Maybe a lot of those people didn’t even know it was your birthday or that birthdays were even important. Maybe they just knew there was a celebration and thought it would be a great time to get together with family and friends to have a good time. But we know when your birthday is and why we’re celebrating so we need to make sure to celebrate for the right reasons. And we know what Easter’s for so we need to be sure to celebrate what really matters.

I think Laylee got it. Magoo was still clutching his snake and shoveling Marie Calendar’s pie into his grinning face. At least he knew that the answer to most of our serious questions today was “Jesus?” We’ll work on him some more next year.

Sorry

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I was lounging around on Sunday, napping upstairs in my room when Dan went downstairs to help the kids with something. An hour later, I wandered downstairs and found them like this:
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Playing the eternal game that makes everyone cry but then beg for more.
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The apron is because he had washed all the dishes before starting the game.
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While he washed the dishes, he had them clean up their toys, using a game of Sorry as incentive.
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I’m really starting to like this guy.

God Bless the Slugs

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We say a little prayer before we read scriptures each night. Usually Dan or I say it because it’s a special short little prayer, just inviting the Spirit to be there and giving thanks for what we’re about to read.

Tonight Magoo insisted on saying the scripture prayer. I let him. Here is an exact transcription of that prayer:

“Dear Hebenly Father. We thank thee for the scritchers and we thank thee for the slugs because they are SO nice to us. Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure God enjoyed that prayer almost as much as I did.

And Magoo’s right. They ARE so nice. Let’s praise and be glad of heart for slugs this Easter season.

Cereal Prizes are Making a Comeback

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I grew up with prizes in my cereal. There weren’t prizes in EVERY box of cereal but frequently we would rush to open a new box that promised some nugget of disposable plastic fun and goodness. I tend to believe that most boxes of “kid” cereal did contain a prize in each box. I don’t really know because my mom preferred nutrition over the allure of artificial color, flavor and roof-of-mouth-scratching sugar-coated-glee.

Read about our experiences with the comeback of breakfast cereal prizes [at Parenting.com].

I’m Like Lassie Without the Well-Groomed Hair

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And I have the ability to bear children.

So I’m pregnant, right? The cuteness of the babies being born in my area recently, combined with the slow decline in my all-day pregnancy sickness is causing me to be more excited about the 5-inch little guy growing in my gut.

There are great things about being pregnant. My favorite one is that suddenly my potbelly is all part of the cuteness that is a child-bearing woman. Soon I will get to feel the baby move inside and be sure that’s what I’m actually feeling, which is something that never gets old.

I don’t like the sickness but the rest of it is pretty darn okay. I love the kids’ excitement. I love how tenderly Dan takes care of me. He becomes downright gallant. I love imagining the baby and planning for it.

In regards to Lassie and how similar we are, I will tell you a story. Yesterday a group of friends were playing at a local ball field with our kids, confused by the appearance of this strange golden orb in the sky but intrigued enough by its warmth to venture outside to experience it.

The kids ran wild and the moms drifted in and out of conversations, everyone sort of taking care of everyone else’s kids. Suddenly I looked up and saw one of the three-year-olds standing at the top of a cliff-like rock wall about 2 stories up, sort of wobbling back and forth and grinning. Her mom was across the field with my children. We all sort of yelled at the toddler to stop where she was.

“FREEZE! I’m coming.”

My inner Lassie came out and I shimmied up the rock wall to where she was standing, happy as can be. I picked her up (not with my mouth) and carried her down almost to safety when I slipped on a patch of mud, twisted my knee and ankle and went tumbling down the rest of the hill. She was scared but fine. My small person was fine in his water bed due to the ample padding I provide but I was in a fair amount of pain.

Then I got home and realized it was my night to make dinner for the families in my dinner group. So I spent 2.5 hours on my feet making chili and cornbread, only to be reminded by Eve that we were going to have a pizza dinner that night with our preschool group. At that point my ankle was in ridiculous pain and I wondered, “Did this ever happen to Lassie?”

I seem to remember her limping along at times but then the next episode, she’d be fine and well-groomed. Well if today’s the next episode, I am not fine and certainly not well-groomed or even showered. I woke up with a sore throat and cough in my chest. Magoo’s is worse but mine feels like it’s heading that way. And my foot is still really sore. I’m limping around a bit but mostly lying on the couch and elevating it while Magoo watches TV. I don’t remember Lassie ever needing to hold Timmy down while he screamed like death and child abuse, pin his arms to his chest and shove saline solution up his nose so he would stop crying about how bad his boogies hurt.

I’m sure she would have, if called upon. I just don’t remember ever seeing that episode.

Not only did no producer come in and bathe me or brush my hair but I didn’t even get a fresh bandanna. (So I’ve looked it up and can’t find a picture of a bandanna on that collie but I swear I’ve seen one. I think it was red.) The good news is, I have the dinner I made last night to eat today and my kids are very sweet when they’re either pathetically ill or completely physically exhausted. Some other times too.

Laylee spent the day at “Track Camp” at the High School, running laps and learning how to throw a discus and shot put. Apparently they let her use both hands, which I appreciate since apparently they were using the same equipment the high schoolers use. She’s dog-tired but still willing to fetch things for her ailing mother and pathetic little brother.

I hope tomorrow’s episode finds me with a clean shiny head of hair, new clothes and a spring in my magically-healed step.

Could I Be More Mean?

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I have set a limit of four days on this:

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It’s been three days and today I gave warning. The Stuffed Animal Utopia of Bliss must be dismantled by tomorrow night.

“But the animals will be so sad.”

“But you set up every toy, stuffed animal, laundry basket, block, doll blanket and interesting-looking household item we own in a mess-like pattern in the living room.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

“But the living room’s the first thing people see when they walk into our house and it looks like the toy room vomited all over my entry way.”

Blank stares. Squinty eyes. Cocked heads. Looks that say, “And that’s a problem because?”

The Utopia is coming down tomorrow.

Blood in a Baggie

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Sometimes the red tape involved with medical care baffles me, especially when you see more than one provider at once.

Last week, my naturopath told me I looked like crap. She said it a lot nicer than that but basically she told me she was worried about the color of my skin and wanted my iron tested. So she wrote out a requisition for me to have my blood taken at a lab about 35 minutes from my house, the closest one in the chain of labs their clinic uses. She wanted me to do it this week.

I hate having my blood taken. I have bad veins and I’m frequently stuck multiple times before any blood comes out. Now it just so happened that I had an appointment to have blood drawn at the Magical Ultrasound Clinic of Joy this week. So I asked her if I could just have the Magical Ultrasound Clinic of Joy take a little extra blood and check it for iron.

She didn’t see why not so she told me to bring the requisition to the MUCJ and ask if they’d be willing to help me out. Well I was in a hurry this morning dealing with sick kids, sick me and sick Dan and I completely spaced bringing the form.

When I showed up at the MUCJ, I asked the nurse if she’d run the extra test and she said she couldn’t do it without consent from my doctor, without the form. As she gathered the vials and needle, I started to tear up a little. Without looking up, she offered, “I could call your doctor’s office and ask them to fax over a copy of the requisition while you wait out in the lobby.”

“No. It’s okay,” I answered. “I’ve got babysitting issues. My husband’s home sick with the kids and I promised him I’d be quick and home in time to make lunch.” I’ll just drive back out to the lab another day and get it taken again.

But she wouldn’t give up. She wanted to help. “I could take the extra blood and then see if I can get them to fax in the requisition and if they do, I could run the tests. If not, I’d just toss the extra blood.”

I thanked her profusely and headed home, making a quick stop to pick something up at a nearby store while I was in the area. My cell phone rang. It was the helpful nurse from the MUCJ. She said that the naturopath’s office would only use their specific lab, a different lab than the MUCJ worked with but if the naturopath’s lab was willing to send over a courier to pick up the blood, that would work just fine.

The naturopath’s lab has one person working in the office. The same person who checks you in takes your blood. I told her that I could not imagine them using a courier service. Again I thanked her but told her I’d just have to come back again another day and do the draw again. THEN she offered to drive the blood over to the lab herself when she got off work that day. Okay. Cookies, flowers, something. This woman’s got something coming to her.

“I’m not comfortable asking you to do that, but I’m still fairly close, I could come by and get my blood and drive it over to them.”

I asked her if there was any way I could avoid paying $4 again to park in their garage for 5 minutes while I ran in to get the specimen. (I love saying and writing “specimen”. It just sounds so creepish.) She said just to pull up in the roundabout outside the office building, call the office and ask for her and she’d run it out to my car… in the pouring rain. Bless this woman!

So I called my naturopath’s office and asked them if they’d fax the form over to the lab so my blood transport wouldn’t be in vain. No. They said they couldn’t do it because my doctor wasn’t in this morning. I asked if one of the other doctors in the practice could write one up since the information was on my chart. It’s not like I was calling up out of the blue asking for a prescription for medical marijuana. I just wanted to see if my blood had enough iron. Could a test like that ever be harmful? She said she’d check. After a few minutes she came back and said one of the other doctors was willing to do it.

Then I asked her if she had the address of the local lab for me. No. She didn’t have it. Apparently they normally use the Lynnwood lab so she didn’t have access to the address I needed. I visualized her sitting at her desk with her computer hooked to the internet unwilling to google for me and then visualized the nurse at the Magical Ultrasound Clinic of Joy who was willing to look up the address and DRIVE MY BLOOD OVER TO THE LAB AFTER SHE GOT OFF WORK and I asked politely, “If you don’t have the information for the local lab, how are you going to fax the form over to them?”

She said she was planning on looking it up in a couple of minutes.

“Could I hold until you get a chance to do that?”

She said I could and in 30 seconds she had the address for me. I thanked her and apologized for causing all this trouble. “I just didn’t think it would be this hard,” I confided.

“I know. It shouldn’t be,” she conceded.

When I pulled into the roundabout at the UCJ’s office and called up for my nurse, she was down to my car within 60 seconds, a smile on her face and a baggie of blood in her hand. I believe I professed my love for her. Then I drove the 3 blocks to the lab.

When I got there, baggie of blood vials in hand, I gave the lab employee the short version of my story and asked if she’d gotten a fax from my Naturopath’s office. No. She hadn’t.

I did sort of a “follow my eyes” movement over to the fax machine. She followed my eyes and reached the 18 inches to the piece of paper lying face down on the fax machine.

“Your last name?” she asked.

“Thompson.”

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Then she smiled and said she’d get it taken care of and I suddenly liked her a teeny bit more.

My naturopath’s office is efficient and well run. They’ve stayed open late for me more than once so I could come after Dan got home from work and taken as much time as I needed. My doctor there is one of the most patient and empathetic medical professionals I’ve ever met. Maybe their office staff was just having a rough day today. It was the contrast in the two offices that was so startling.

I don’t think anyone was being malicious or trying to give me the runaround and one person went WAY above and beyond the call of duty. I know that different doctors’ offices contract with different labs. But I still don’t understand why it had to be so hard. Why can’t every person be as helpful and kind as the MUCJ nurse? Why doesn’t everyone get it? Why can’t we all just get along? Why can I keep down a McDonald’s hamburger but not rice?

These are the questions that trouble me today.