1. Things Fit in a RAV-4

This morning we took the Mad Whip to “The Park without the Playground” (as opposed to “George Bush”, “George Bush with the Playground” and “Daddy’s Park” which are all totally different experiences). We were worried about the RAV-4 being smaller than the Explorer as we tried to cram in the customary 3 kids bikes, two scooters and a Wave Board. They all fit. They never fit like that in the Explorer.

2. Cheapest Mid-Life Crisis Vehicle Ever

No, not the RAV-4. The Wave . It was the T-Bot’s birthday present, but it is The Daddy who has become the Wave-Master. He likes to wiggle his way past us shouting in a mock California-Surf-Dude voice “THE WAVE!“. As he did this at the almost-deserted park this morning I yelled back “I don’t think you are quite at the stage where 19 year old girls are going to be throwing themselves at you!”.

We turned the corner and guess who was standing there, open-mouthed.

Yes.

A gaggle of 19 year old girls.

3. Un-co? Try Ice Skating!

I have been promising Baby Sister ice-skating for such a long time. This weekend we finally made it to the rink. After all, she is about to turn 6.

Baby Sister is one of the most uncoordinated people I know. She trips over her own feet, knocks over anything in her path and only has to turn the handlebars on her bike to fall off it.

A little harsh maybe But once at the rink she did what we like to call an “Aunty Natty“.

(Sorry, Aunty Natty, but I promise you it is a compliment!)

She listened to the instructions, got up on those skates, and in 30 minutes was skating like a pro.

4. Fish and Chips

Yesterday we were at the supermarket and The Daddy left us by the donuts to go get some fish for dinner.

He returned brandishing cod wrapped up in white paper.

“Look!” he said, “Cod! And look at the price! We are going to eat fish and chips tonight!!”

Next, he put potatoes in the cart.

And then he tossed a deep fat fryer in there. Not kidding.

And before I knew it, we were at the checkout and he was trying to Google a recipe on his iphone, to be sure we had not missed any ingredients:

“BBC Recipe Fish and Chips“, he murmured urgently into the phone.

“Ah, not again! ” he sighed, as Google brought up “fishing trips”.

We never did get all the ingredients, and had to improvise. But the fish and chips were yummy. Yummy, if not good for the waistline.

Also,  I had to burn scented candles for hours afterwards.

He is talking about frying home made donuts next.

Yay!

At last!

Crawfish season rolls around again!

We love crawfish!

No crawfish were harmed in the making of this …

Oooooops.

It used to be that when it came to dinnertime I would wait until The Daddy returned from his hard day at work and ask him what he was cooking tonight.

And then things changed, and I found myself in control of the kitchen. Actually, more like out of control in the kitchen, for as many of you will know I am a terrible cook.

Still, there I was, muddling along and not receiving anything in the way of compliments for all my efforts. I was starting to get a bit huffy about the whole thing really. I mean there are only so many times a person can hear words such as “burnt”, “bland”,  “tough” and “inedible” applied to her cooking before starting to feel, oh I don’t know, a little bit miffed?

Then came the fateful day when the moon and stars must have been aligned and the gods smiling and my lucky day, all rolled into one. The day I stumbled upon THE SOLUTION.

It did not start out well. I had bought a nice piece of beef which would have to be put in to roast early and was very proud of myself for remembering to take it out of the fridge on time. But when I looked at it, it turned out that I had accidentally not bought a nice piece of beef, but just a piece of beef, which would have to be put in to stew early. At this point I almost abandoned my abandonment of Twitter to tweet “Help! How do I make a beef stew with no ingredients?”

Then I remembered Mark. Mark is an old friend of ours from way back, when The Daddy and I used to have time to watch TV, and would watch his New York Times podcasts on simple cooking. Despite my well-documented hatred of the culinary arts, somehow I never minded watching his podcasts. He seems kind of … nice. It was Mark who taught The Daddy how to cook Paella and it was on his recommendation that I stopped buying those expensive kitchen knives and instead bought myself two restaurant knives for $16 from Costco. They have plastic handles but still I have received compliments.

I am not sure how I came to have Mark’s book, “How To Cook Everything“. I know that it came via Amazon, probably ordered by me in a fit of optimism after seeing a random ad. I also know that the moment it arrived I looked at the cover, thought “this might come in useful one day” and put it straight onto the shelf.

So there we were, several months later. I opened the book and discovered it contains tons and tons of simple recipes for simple people like me. Who don’t have 20 exotic ingredients in their pantry and really don’t feel like rushing out to buy them. Who very possibly don’t even have the most basic of ingredients. That night Mark didn’t try to make me feel guilty for not throwing three tired kids in the car and rushing them to the crowded supermarket to buy beef stock. He gave me permission to cook with water.

Imagine that! Needless to say, How to Cook Everything no longer lives on the living room shelf. It now has a permanent home on the kitchen counter. In fact, it is probably stuck there. With gravy.

And this is why Mark will always have a special place in my heart:  I spend less time cooking. I can usually find a recipe to accommodate my gruesome lack of fancy ingredients. Oh, and here is a real and honest quote from 5 minutes ago as The Daddy finished eating yet another of Mark’s 20 minute meals:

“It used to be depressing eating your dinners. Some days I almost wanted to kill myself. But that was great.”

No kidding.

(PS: Yet again this is an unpaid review. What can I say, I am a mug.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Caption: When my children are being especially obnoxious and I need to get something done, I make them go out into the yard and I give them iceblocks.

Now, don’t say I never share.

.

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(Update: I was half expecting someone to comment that those iceblocks contain gasp! artificial coloring. Was prepared for the onslaught. But everybody has been very nice about not mentioning it. Then this morning I took another look at the photo and realized that my eldest is also holding a lollipop. EPIC MOTHERING FAIL!)

I am not a food nazi or organic warrior, although with three small kids I probably should be. 

There is one thing I am firm on though. No food products from China.

A few years ago I watched a documentary on PBS about farming practices in China and the difficulties ensuring quality in their food production. Apparently many fruits and vegetables there come from small farmers who are trying to scratch a living out of infertile or over-farmed land. And many of them resort to banned pesticides and herbicides and other chemicals, and/or concentrations way over safe limits. 

I am too cynical to believe that none of this produce makes its way to the foreign market, especially in the light of the inability of large companies such as Mattel to keep lead paint out of their toy production lines in much the same circumstances (outsourcing to many smaller companies, making inspection of each step of the process very difficult). 

And so, I made the decision to limit food products from China. By limit I mean, we do not knowingly have them in the house. There are, of course, always exceptions - fast food apple juice boxes and Halloween candy for example, and we will never know the source of the ingredients in the little pre-prepared food we eat - but we do what we can. 

My kids drink a lot of apple juice. Mainly because they don’t like many vegetables and this is a good way of ensuring they at least get their full quota of fruit (an aside - did you know that the five servings can be fruit OR vegetables? Not necessarily a mixture of both, as long as they are eaten as part of an otherwise balanced diet. This information is pediatrician approved). 

It used to be fairly easy to eschew juice made with chinese concentrate. It was just a matter of studying the label or those little black words printed on the neck of the bottle. Some companies did. Some companies didn’t. No problem.

However, the grocery shrink ray apparently isn’t weapon enough against inflation. Lately more companies seem to be sourcing their apple concentrate from China. The rot set in slowly.  Not so long ago I was buying Tree Top. Then one day I noticed that ominous “Concentrate from China” mention appear on the bottle and switched to Old Orchard Organic. Not bad, I thought, only 20c more expensive and it’s organic. 

Old Orchard and I have had a good relationship for over a year now. Until yesterday, when I reached for the bottle, did my usual check, and instead of “Concentrate from Chile, Turkey, USA, New Zealand, Argentina” (all countries I sort of trust), the bottle was marked … you guessed it. 

(Yes, I know it’s marked organic, and by definition should be free of nasties. But Mattel has told us time and time again that their toys are free of lead.  Get my point?)

So. I have done extensive research in the Clear, Bottled, Pasteurized, Apple-Juice-From-Concentrate department and it appears that where I shop there is one hold-out. Hansens Organic Apple Juice at a whopping $4.56 a bottle (compare this with Old Orchard at $2.57) still sources its concentrate in Turkey. For now.

I am a big fan of Hansens, I am just not a big fan of their prices.

But in the end, it’s all good. Because, on his first reluctant sip of the new brew, the T-Bot declared “Wow, Mommy, this is really yummy!”. And Baby Sister and The Wictor gulped all theirs down too and asked for more. So I tried it and poured myself a big glass because this stuff is amazing! Light and crisp and just like biting into a fresh apple. Comparing the Hansens juice with Old Orchard is like comparing … I don’t know, Prada with H&M? Bentley with Hyundai? Italian coffee with that weak cup of instant your Grandma makes?

You know - they are sort of the same thing. But they’re not. 

Oh, did I say it’s all good? I’m taking it back. The Hansens juice is so delicious that The Daddy and I just can’t resist stealing glasses of the stuff ( I admonish The Daddy - “Hey, the apple juice is for the kids!” - while holding my glass behind my back). The price of our family consumption has not almost doubled, it has quadrupled. It is costing a fortune.

Somebody send me an press and a ton of first world apples.  Quick. 

Last night as we were hauling our tired, boated bodies into bed, The Daddy and I agreed to both try and cut down on the amount of junk we eat. We have been in vacation mode for too long as regards food, throwing back beer and dessert and pizza and cookies with blatant disregard for our health or for whether our shorts would even fit the following day.

T-Bot was either listening at the door or he is psychic. I am going with psychic. This morning he announced that he was going to prepare me a “Yummy, Yummy Breakfast” and that I was to sit at the dining room table and wait. After being called back briefly to peel my own carrot and chop my own apple I was presented with my meal. 

“Oh!” I said weakly, “That looks yummy and very … healthy!” 

“Yes,” he said, with a satisfied grin, “It is yummy! I’m going to sit here and watch you eat it!” 

Over the weekend I was searching for something in my closet when I happened upon a suitcase. And when I opened it I felt like I had just opened King Tut’s tomb! 

Inside were my emergency supplies for the 2007 hurricane season. You can tell I have never actually lived through a hurricane, because this is what I had bought to potentially tide us over for the hours or days without cooking facilities and possibly a roof: 

48 Pop Tarts

3lbs Chips Ahoy

3lbs 4.5 oz Oreos

One enormous bag of trail mix. 

4 large tins of tuna fish

I believe that my reasoning at the time was that if I bought things the kids would consider treats then they might actually eat them and not starve during the days after the storm. Also, they had to be high calorie items so that they would last longer while taking up less space in the closet. Seems straightforward and even very clever. That is, until all the hurricanes bypass us yet again and we are forced to eat everything under non-emergency conditions. 

Please return to the list above. Note that the quantities of Oreos, Pop Tarts and Chips Ahoy discovered this weekend are more than our entire consumption of said delicacies in the past 3 years… And, because the items in question were purchased at Sam’s Club, of course their expiry dates are all in the past.

They need to be eaten now! 

(Costco? Just this once, I couldn’t make the trip to Costco??).

Oh, don’t worry about those expiry dates, everything is still good. How do I know? Because I have already started on the job of eating everything now. The sooner we start, the sooner the task will be over. We meaning me and occasionally the T-Bot when I forget to hide the Pop-Tarts box. 

Now, if you know anything about King Tut’s tomb you will know about the Curse. The one where anybody who profited from the treasure discovered therein went on to an early grave. This is how I am feeling, right now, about my unexpected find. My digestive system has gone into shock and my head hurts - that is, it hurts when I can find it through the sugar haze. 

You know what I crave the most right now? An apple, a granola bar and a yoghurt. So I will allow myself a yoghurt once I get through the first lb of Chips Ahoy.  By way of a little treat. 

We managed several activities with the kids this weekend, which made time flow quite nicely. 

First, The Daddy found a Victorian recipe for gingerbread requiring about sixty steps and six hundred different ingredients, and we spent hours and hours as a family making gingerbread men and icing them. Then finally, on Sunday afternoon, we managed to finish construction of the piece de resistance - the Gingerbread Shack: 

Can you tell somebody was getting a little fed up by this point?

That poor gingerbread man tried hard to get into the shack, but as it was so awfully small and we had neglected to provide a door, so he settled for standing outside smiling inanely. 

On Sunday morning we took a trip to Target for a cheap 4 man tent, which proved only moderately easy to set up. Totally worth it though, even if we are going to have to take it up and down to save the grass, because it immediately became Base Camp Alpha and we hardly heard a peep out of them all afternoon. To clarify - they were making plenty of noise but we just didn’t need to be there to hear it. 

And of course, the recurring theme of the weekend continued to be this: 

Except it !popped! somewhere around Tuesday evening, so we are now using it in conjunction with this: 

And you know what? The fun just tripled! 
 

1. I saw a real, live Renault Megane driving down our street! I did a double take, listened hard for that spooky Twilight Zone music and then ran home to tell The Daddy, because as far as we know they don’t sell them here.  

2. Yesterday I finally found some espresso grind coffee in one of the local supermarkets. We stopped drinking espresso for a while when we got our new drip filter, but then decided it was time to use the machine again before its insides went moldy. The only problem? In the meantime it seems every supermarket in town had noticed their sales had dropped 100% and decided not to carry espresso grind anymore. 

I almost left the fancy silver Illy tin on the shelf because ye gods! $13.99 for a tiny tin of coffee? I think I was paying $5.49 before. But I am so glad I brought that baby home because tonight we had the best espresso we have had in a very long time. The crema alone was to die for, smooth and sweet like hot chocolate. 

3. The kindergarten class had a Mothers Day breakfast this morning and although T-Bot refused to sing or do the actions to the cute song they had been practicing for weeks, he was very excited about giving me the blue crepe paper flower he had made. And because he was excited, I was excited. 

We had a successful weekend. Everybody managed to stay mostly amused and unusually quiet for two whole days!

Of course 

 this helped.And this.          This too.

But still.

There was, however, a lot of excitement last night Inzaburbs. My fault.

The Daddy has been nagging me for weeks to bring home crawfish from one of my many shopping expeditions, despite the fact that crawfish season is more or less over. So I was dancing with joy yesterday afternoon  when I found an enormous tub of the things at the local supermarket. 

The Wictor and T-Bot were intrigued, as was The Daddy when we finally made it home and showed him our spoils. 

“Ummmm…” he said with a puzzled expression on his face, “…they’re… alive”. 

Unexpected glitch there. This brain was disengaged at the point of purchase. We have always bought crawfish ready cooked before, and I neglected to think ahead to the killing spree that would have to follow. But, actually, no problem, for it was here that my breton genes kicked in and I coolly and calmly set a pot of water on to boil. 

While it was heating up I turned my back and this happened: 

Feisty little beggars.

Much screaming ensued. Because Baby Sister decided the escapees were going to jump off the counter and bite her. They didn’t. They did move their pincers around though, and in a very menacing fashion. 

I’ll spare you the details of what followed, except to say that when their time came, they were dispatched, quickly and painlessly. And they tasted very nice.