Archive for the ‘food stuffs’ Tag
March 01 2012
“Hey, kids, would you like me to make some cookies?” This is a question that never really needs asked, because of course, but I was feeling in a giving mood. It was as if June Cleaver, or Paula Deen, had momentarily taken control of my body.
Except I’m pretty sure any respectable domestic type would make their cookies from scratch. Mine come in an already packaged roll.
The kids scream their approval in giddy delight, fresh baked cookies are the best!, and I go about scooping heaping spoonfuls onto a sheet pan while the oven is preheating. I make sure there is some stray dough left-over, which then gets shoveled into my mouth in spite of the raw egg warning. I’m living on the edge here.
All is going well, is what I’m saying. I feel like mother of the year scooping and rolling, my hands gooey with chocolate chips. Until the sheet pan is full of delicious rounds of cookie dough and I open the oven door as carefully as I can with a messy, surprisingly slippery, grip.
The pan shifts from my fingers.
The cookies fall.
Onto the floor of a very hot oven. The cookie dough begins to spread as soon as it hits the surface.
June Cleaver would never have this problem.
“Hey, kids, how would you feel about ice cream instead?”
July 19 2011
Let’s talk about vegetables. Do you want to talk about vegetables?
Yeah, let’s talk about vegetables. You know, those vitamin-packed morsels that send children screeching in horror just at the sight. They may look innocent, some even quite delicious under certain preparations, but to a kid they are evil. Especially those with leafy tops, they’re just sinister. I mean, do your kids eat vegetables? Willingly? Because mine don’t. Mine would rather ingest cardboard.
“What are these?”, Jedi wondered, poking at the pods as if he expected them to scurry across the table while his nose scrunched.
“It’s sugar snap peas. You’ve had them before, you like them.”, I may have lied.
He didn’t like them.
You can’t blame me for trying to include a healthy option with our meal when possible. It makes me feel better for all the nights we have pizza. Doing so, however, opens the dinner discussion to bargaining and serious contract negotiations.
“I’ll tell you what, just eat 5 peas and you can be done”, I compromised.
“But that’s too many”, he whined.
Exhausted already, I reasoned, “Fine, eat 3 without any more complaint or it goes back up to 5″. It takes 30 minutes, they’re cold and he’s the only one left at the table, but he finally swallows each, like glass going down. “I think I’m going to be sick”, he states dramatically afterward.
So we can talk about vegetables. I would love to talk about vegetables. What are your favorite kinds of vegetables? You know what my favorite kind are? Any kind my kids will eat without acting like it’s torture.
April 05 2011
It’s the age old question, asked every night. Regular answers consist of normal child fare: cheeseburgers, pizza, chicken quesadillas. Whether I take their suggestion to heart is another matter. Even if I do, I try to include a vegetable somewhere amongst the million calories. Still, I continue to inquire.
“What do you want for dinner?”
I’m not the best cook. In fact, the other day I had to ask on twitter if I could make the same oven fries with vegetable oil as I was all out of olive. Because oil is oil, right? However, there are a few items on our menu that are raved over. An example of which is ravioli. A bag of frozen meat-filled ravioli, a bottle of store-bought alfredo sauce. I could never be a food blogger for many reasons, but mostly because that’s about as homemade as I get. It is a reasonably light choice all my kids can agree on, though. Including Abby, who still prefers foods on the softer side.
“Would you like me to make ravioli?”
So it may be the age old question that is asked every night, but my daughter’s toddler tongue helps mix it up when ravioli’s involved.
“Olie-olie-olie!”, she calls for in agreement.
I have to admit, it’s become one of my favorites, too. Not because I enjoy the dish that much, but I can’t get enough of her translation. I would fix “olie-olie-olie” every night of the week if I could, as long as Abby never changes the way she speaks. That’s completely doable, right? More so than my eldest excited for asparagus, anyway.
January 04 2011
Saying that I don’t like spicy food is probably an understatement. If you’ve ever been to dinner with me, you’ll come to know that bland is better as far as I’m concerned. As such, it doesn’t take much heat for it to quickly become too much. I don’t even use cracked black pepper as it can be too hot for my palette. My throat feels like it’s on fire and I don’t find hosing myself down any way to enjoy a meal.
Winter time means chili time, however. My husband is the designated chili maker in our house, everything made from scratch. He knows my meager tastes and tries his best to alter the recipe accordingly, though I know it’s not a science. A pepper or two may find its way in sometimes. Usually, it works out well enough. This last time, however, had so much kick I think my ass is bruised.
I somehow found it in me to finish my bowl, though, with a lot of help from multiple glasses of milk. Even doused in cheese and crackers, my boys took a few bites and pushed the rest away. Not a surprise, really. My daughter, however, happily devoured every bite.
What the rest of us couldn’t finish, she inhaled.
And when the bowl was licked clean, she even wanted more.
I may not like the heat, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem for my 2 year old. Leave it to my daughter to not only show up her mom, but the boys, too. Though I have to say, I think it takes bigger cajones to tackle her diaper after. Now that was terrifying. Word to the wise, no more chili until she’s potty-trained.
August 10 2010
We have new next door neighbors. This is a good thing, since the people who lived in that house previously broke our car’s rear window last year. It was an accident, sure, but feelings soured very quickly, especially after they refused to pay for it.
The new neighbors are older. I’ve seen the man sitting outside a few times and we’ve waved. I’m not the most social, so this is my curmudgeonly attempt at being friendly.
Over the weekend, he witnessed my parents come and go. On one of those occasions, he stopped my dad before he could shuffle his way inside. He asked how many kids I had then retreated briefly. A few seconds later, he returned bearing gifts.
Two peaches.
“For the kids”, he offered kindly.
Which is all very nice. I’m not against fruit. I wish my kids ate fruit. Obviously, though, he doesn’t know my kids.
I’ve had to place these peaches on top of the refrigerator, out of their immediate reach. If I hadn’t, I’m certain I’d be cleaning peach mush out of my carpet courtesy of Buzz. They think they’re toys. Round, fuzzy toys. Fuzzy balls, if you want to go there. Jedi just wanted to walk around with one in his hand. I told him if he touched the peach, he had to eat it. He promptly backed away and hasn’t so much as looked at it since.
You’ve succeeded in a positive first impression, Mr. Neighbor Guy. But if you really want to win (me and) my kids over, you need to come bearing chocolate next time.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
