Where to eat

We're having some friends over for dinner tonight, and I'm having a serious problem trying to determine where to eat. There will be eight of us, so the dining room makes the most sense. But our dining room is so, well, formal (I am starting to really hate the concept of a formal dining room. Because who really lives that life any more?). And four of the eight people are children. Small children, who will be eating pasta with red sauce. But in the kitchen, I have three stools with backs, and one backless one that kids topple off of. And only three kitchen chairs. So the kitchen doesn't make much sense. And after all my bitching and moaning about the heat last week, the cold front came through last night and it is only supposed to be 65 be dinnertime, which I think is probably too cold for outdoor dinning.

Plus, my dining room doesn't look nearly as cute as Jackie Sue's. Clearly she should come north and help a design challenge gal out...

Note to Self

A calendar is a useful tool. If you open it before opening your mouth that is. Three times this week I have booked something and then had to call back five minutes later because it conflicted with something else. I'm unclear how my life got quite so busy, but clearly it has something to do with the fact that I still have not learned to sit on my hands when a request for a volunteer is made.

And speaking of volunteering, at a meeting this morning someone remarked that A was very well behaved in a roomful of adults. And then as an aside (in a not so nice a way), she said "Of course, that's probably because you bring her everyplace with you instead of hiring a sitter." I think I am choosing to take that as a compliment on my child's behavior, rather than a comment on how I am raising my daughter...

Hypothetically

Hypothetically, if one had to return a recalled garden tool to Target, and if one also needed cat food and litter, toothbrushes, toothpaste, soda and some birthday gifts for small children one has only interacted with at kindergarten drop off, do you think one could hypothetically purchase all of said things at Target instead of shelpping two children to three different stores and paying much more for each of those items without violating the spirit of the law? Hypothetically, of course.

Ulgh

I am a New England girl. It should not be 90 in late September. The leaves should be turning, I should not be forced to get a pedicure so I can continue to wear my flip flops. Just as Rebecca is insistent that she should not be forced to turn on her heat in September, I am insistent that I should not be forced to run my air conditioner in September. So we are lolling around the house sweating. Or maybe we are lolling around the house because I had my rear end handed to me in a body sculpting class at the gym today (Yes! I saw the inside of the gym! Hallelujah!). But regardless of the reason we are lolling around the house, we are all sweating.

I thought I was in reasonable shape. But today as I face planted in the middle of a push up and found myself staring at the sneakers of the instructor who came racing over to see if I was OK, I realized that I may be able to trot several a few miles, but I have not an ounce of strength in my body. Well, except for the muscles one needs to lug children around. Those are pretty strong. But clearly those are not the muscles one needs to complete a push up.

After the instructor determined that she didn't have to track down a first aid kit, I was held up as the shining example of what not to do. Fabulous. She also made sure to learn my name so she can hound me to keep coming to her class when she sees me around town. Even more fabulous. And I bet you that by tomorrow morning I will be hobbling about, as I can already feel my leg muscles turning to jello. If only yoga met at a time that actually worked for me.

I'm not quite sure what possessed me to sign up for this class (well, except for that muffin top that hangs out over my jeans. And will one class a week REALLY do anything for that? Yeah. I didn't think so either.). But as I lay on the floor rubbing my nose and wondering whether this might be a good excuse for a nose job, I decided that really, my original Wednesday morning plan of Starbucks and a bagel would have been a much better choice.

Spam gone wild

So apparently emails headed to my blog account have been spam filtered to death over the last few months. So if you emailed me and I never got back to you, please try again. I'm behind in email, but only by a few days. Gah.

Overheard in the Driveway

C: "Mom, when you were in college and you missed Nana, did you just send her an email?"

Chichimama: "When I was in college there wasn't really email yet."

C: " Well, you had a computer, right?"

Chichimama: "Actually, I went some place called a computer cluster where everyone shared computers."

C: "Huh. Well, did you call home from your cell phone then?"

Chichimama: "There were no such things as cell phones when I was in college. In fact, for a year I called from a pay phone that I shared with 30 other girls."

C: "What's a pay phone?"

Chichimama: "I am getting old."

Click Clack Creak

Has anyone ever seen a chiropractor? Seriously. My neck has started creaking and clicking whenever I turn it. And it strikes me that that can't be so good. Or else I really am getting old like all the doctors seem to think.

My MIL loves her chiropractor, but I have always been somewhat suspect of them. I have no idea why. Perhaps it is just the thought that if they crack my back slightly wrong, I could end up an awful lot worse than creaky. Shiver.

So I'm taking a poll of everyone I know to see who has experienced chiropracty (I have no idea how to spell that one, but you get the drift). So far, my MIL is it. Anyone else out there? Or should I resign myself to creaking my way into my 4th decade??? (And yes, I know I should go to yoga. And if you can figure out when I could hit a yoga class when I have one or both kids with me every second of the day, I will. I swear.)

Dear Neighborhood Teens

Dear Neighborhood Teens Who Shall Remain Nameless,

I am pleased to know that you are not getting into trouble loitering downtown or shoplifting. I am even pleased to know that ringing doorbells and running away is still considered an amusing past time for the 18 and under set. In the grand scheme of things, you have picked a rather harmless Saturday night activity, and for that I applaud you.

However, I would like to request that you refrain from ringing my particular doorbell, as I have small children who go to sleep at 7pm at night. And when the doorbell rings multiple times at 7:45, all hell breaks loose over here. Of course, if your ringing of my doorbell is an indication that you are interested in coming to babysit for me, feel free to ring all you want.

Sincerely,

Chichimama

PS: You are lucky it was me and not my husband who opened the door and figured out who it was. Because he is jet-lagged and not quite as amused as I.

I've never been good with dates

A happy belated three year blogiversary to me. Hard to believe. At least this year I'm only a day late...better than a dollar short I suppose.

Another Rocking Friday Night

Tis the season of travel (or should I say the year of travel, since the season seems to have never ended) and M is currently somewhere over the midwest. At least one can hope he is somewhere over the midwest by now. So I have spent a rocking Friday night reprogramming the DVR. Y'all can oohh and ahhhh now.

Somehow overnight the kids have left behind the old television standbys of Dragon Tales and Dora the Explorer for shows like Word Girl and Word World. Both children are desperate to learn everything there is to know about words, and I spend my day reading books, signs, spelling words and trying desperately to understand what "citin" and "luk" really stands for. C is starting to read real books all on his own, and A, not one to be left behind, is trying to learn to read by brute force. So I suppose it should be no surprise that their television viewing habits are shifting accordingly.

But it was still sad to swap the shows I could recite line by line for ones that I have no real relationship with. And since these days television viewing is taking place while I am cooking dinner, I don't know that I will develop the same closeness with Word Girl as Dora and I experienced. Sniff, sniff. Dora, you will be missed.

Who knew that one could become so attached to children's TV shows? And if I am getting so worked up about Dora, I hate to think what I will do when C and A give up Frances and Frog and Toad. Although I will have no problem passing on the TtFTE books to another family.

And every once and a while, it all works out (almost)

I had a last minute meeting this afternoon for a project I am working on that the children just could not attend. So I threw myself on the mercy of Lovely Friend who agreed to take my kids in exchange for my picking up her vegetable share from the CSA. Since I was scheduled to set up for the CSA today it worked out great for me, right up until the point that the CSA delivery was late and all of a sudden I found myself dressed in meeting appropriate clothing chucking potatoes fresh out of the ground into plastic bags while frantically asking the other workers for the time as my watch kicked the bucket last night.

I bolted out of the CSA garage with sixteen minutes to spare, dragging two very disgruntled children behind me. As I buckled then into the car seats, I plotted my path to Lovely Friend's house and then to the meeting.

"OK, it is 2:59. The elementary school on the corner gets out at 3:05. If I can make it to the stop sign by 3:04, I can then cut through past the school safely. Once I get to Lovely Friend's, I need to head to the park crossing because I know the crossing guard there and he will let me through if I beg so I can make it past the junior high school dismissal. Then if I cut through the park and make the traffic light on the corner, I should make the meeting with two minutes to spare.

I made the stop sign right on schedule. I careened into Lovely Friend's driveway and pushed the children out of the car screaming "A needs a bandaid, and C has to use the bathroom! THANK YOU!" I made it to the park crossing and rolled down my window. "GENE! I have to get across! I'm late for a meeting!" Gene brought the traffic to a halt. "Go Chichimama! Go!" I made the light. I pulled into the parking lot with not two but THREE minutes to spare.

Too bad I left the meeting notes sitting atop the tomatoes...

You know you are really tired when...

You know you are really tired when you fall asleep in your dream, and when you wake up in your dream, you realize that you missed the whole damn dream. Which, according to the pink and blue polka dotted (friendly) monster who woke you up, was a rather nice one. Then you REALLY wake up, and spend the next two hours wondering what happened while you were sleeping in your dream. And why you were dreaming of pink and blue polka dotted monsters.

Go-To Recipes

So after the lasagna disaster yesterday, today I fell back on my old reliable, quiche. And as I was whipping it up, I decided to share it with you. It came from Rebecca originally, and then I doctored it as a I have a tendency to do. So I'll give you both versions, because I'm nice like that.

Rebecca's Spinach Quiche

4 Eggs (I use 2 eggs and 1/2 a cup of egg substitute
1/2 cup mayo (I use low-fat or no-fat)
1/2 cup milk (I use skim)
10 oz frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry (I use the 16 oz bag from Trader Joes)
8 oz shredded cheddar cheese (I use a 12 oz bag of light three cheese from TJ's)
1 onion chopped (I never include this but Rebecca swears by it)
1 ready-made pie crust (I make it crustless, just to save calories, but it IS quite good with the crust)

Mix everything together. Pour into pie crust (or pie pan sprayed with cooking spray if omitting crust). Cover with foil. Bake at 400 for 60 minutes, remove foil for last 15 minutes, if you remember.

My other go-to recipe is a Quick Shrimp Broil, adapted from a Weight Watchers recipe.

Quick Shrimp Broil

Olive oil
4 garlic cloves, minced (or two tablespoons of the already minced stuff from the store)
12 oz shrimp (I use a bag of the frozen TJ's, thawed)
1 can diced tomatoes (I used either the fire-roasted or the Italian-seasoned one)
1/2 cup white wine
Shredded Mexican blend cheese (or any kind of shredded cheese, I just tend to like a blend)

In a medium skillet heat the oil (I do a turn around the pan) and then add the garlic. Saute for about 1 minute. Add the shrimp and tomato, cook until the shrimp are done (5 minutes or so). Stir in the wine and cook for another minute or two. Remove from heat and transfer into a baking dish if your skillet can't go in the oven. Sprinkle with cheese and broil until the cheese is melted and just turning golden-brown, about 3 minutes.

Once I whip out the crockpot for the winter I'll share my all time favorite crockpot recipe as well...

And I wonder why I always feel so scattered

I like to call myself a dabbler, but I have a feeling that my real issue is a lack of focus and an inability to see a non-work related project through to the end. Here are the various projects in progress at my house right now.

Gym bag and A's snack bag, leftover from Friday, not yet emptied.

A file box that needs book fair and PTA materials in it. A pile of 4T clothes to ship to London.

The book fair and PTA files that need to go into that empty file box. The nice neat file system next to that? My "work" files. I.E. the stuff that would pay the bills, if only I was actually being paid to write these days instead of doing it for free.

Burnt lasagna. Not salvageable. Now I need to come up with dinner plan B (pizza for the kids, sushi for Chichimama and M. See, there is a silver lining...).
Computer (out of juice) and cold cup of tea. Soon to be replaced by a glass of wine. At least the wine still tastes OK at room temperature. And now you know where I blog from since my kids have discovered that the laptop does indeed play Noggin and PBS games. Note the magazine title in the background. Ha! Ha ha!
Templates to try and figure out how to furnish the odd little room off the kitchen (currently known as the train room). This clearly doesn't work. Any designers out there who feel like taking on a project? I'm totally serious here.
Tupperware bins of outgrown clothes to go up the attic. In the background, my "desk" that I am supposed to be using instead of the dining room table above. Ahem. Moving on..
Tupperware bin of clothes to Ebay. Several 0-6 month outfits of A's are in there. She is 3 and a half...
Clothes to go to Goodwill. On the guest bed that needs to get cleaned off before the arrival of Nana next month.
Tupperware from the attic that needs to get sorted through and put into A's drawers. Sitting on top of the chenille rug that is so gross that I hate sending A to her room to play.
Laundry to be put away. In the background, the dry clean only dust magnet drapes. Soon to be replaced by something machine washable. Sigh.
Sheets to go onto bed once laundry has been put away.
Clothes to be washed, once the sheets in the laundry basket have been put on the bed.
Drying rack to be put together. My last Target purchase for a month. Oooh. Ahhh.
Sweaters to be washed once the drying rack has been put together. Note the wall paper, which is high on my list of things to get rid of, if only I could get on top of all the other stuff...
I didn't even bother to take a picture of the knitting project that will never end, the ironing pile in the basement, and the playroom which is in desperate need of a de-cluttering. And the yard? I shudder to think of the state of our back yard. It is in such need of a pruning and weeding that I am tempted to rip it all out and start over again. I need help folks.

A proclamation

After tomorrow, I am going to avoid Target for an entire month (M is doing a serious happy dance right now). I can't start until Sunday because tomorrow I have to go exchange some PJ's that don't fit the kids and pick up a new cup and toothbrush holder for the bathroom to replace the gross moldy ones that wouldn't come clean no matter how hard I scrubbed. But starting Sunday, no Target. The kids have enough clothes, I can get the cat food and litter from the grocery, and Target is just. too. fraught. with opportunities to spend on things we don't need.

Wish me luck...

It is going to be a long, long day

It is 8:15 in the morning and both children are already in time out. Now that everyone is (sort of) used to going their separate ways in the mornings, the togetherness of the next few days may do us all in...

Please send chocolate. And Doritos.

The great deabate

Every year around this time, I begin debating winter outerwear for the kids. In August I start haunting Ebay for deals. Generally I can find something for at least one of the kids, last year I lucked out and landed a coat for C for $12. This year I am not having much luck. And getting nervous because a few years ago I got really stuck for C as when I couldn't find one on Ebay and finally decided to buy full price, everyplace was totally sold out. I can't even remember what I ended up doing. I think I bought a size up and he swam for a year...

A generally gets hand-me-downs from Julia, but this is the year that Rebecca also bought a size up for Julia and that coat is now in London and not all that useful to me. And while C's coat from last year still fits, it was a light yellow, and used, and stained a little when I bought it for $12, and now it is just so gross that I can't in good conscience let him wear it, especially when I only spent $12 on it.

I've been haunting Ebay, and everything is going for so close to retail that there seems no point. But to pay retail for a winter coat and snow pants is just EXPENSIVE. I know that it is something they will wear every day and end up being inexpensive per wear, but STILL. And I just can't bring myself to believe that the Old Navy coats as as warm as the LL Bean or Lands End ones. Additionally, the New Englander in me insists that the winter coat is a VERY IMPORTANT item, as one never knows when one might get snowed upon and be forced to play outdoors in snow banks for hours on end.

Where do you get your kids winter coats (for those of you who have to worry about such things!) Would you continue to haunt Ebay, or suck it up and order coats now to make sure you could get the right size (and, of course color combination as C MUST have a coat with orange on it...)? Inquiring minds want to know...

Six Years

Six years ago at 8:46am I was lying on an exam table looking at the heartbeat of a child who I thought was miscarrying instead of having breakfast with a colleague at the World Trade Center. Today at 8:46am I was dragging that same child down the street, racing to make it on time to school.

May those who lost their lives rest in peace, and may their families and friends find peace as well.

Bullets of Books

• The Scholastic book flyers sent home by elementary schools are dangerous things. I'm just saying.
• I am really hoping there is a lot of repetition from month to month, or else M might have to put me on a book budget again.
• But how can one turn down The Best Book of Space Ships and The Best Book of Weather bundle pack? Or the Let's Read and Find Out science pack. C did a little jig in the kitchen when I showed him what I had ordered. I may have even gotten a hug and a kiss too.
  
• I actually heard a woman in the drop off line last week complaining about the request that parents read with their children 15 minutes a day. She called it "Painful" and "mind-numbing."
  
• I am mind boggled that there are people out there who don't read at least 15 minutes a day with their kids.
• I mean, I know they exist, but I really didn't think that I actually KNEW and LIKED someone who didn't read with their kids.
• I start trying to find other activities around the one or two hour mark, and that's only if we've been reading the same. two. books. over and over again.
• Although with all the reading I have been doing with the kids, I haven't picked up a book of my own since we got back from Maine.
• It doesn't help that the library is closed for the forseeable future for renovations.
  
• Storytime at the book store is almost as dangerous as the Scholastic flyers.
• Although at least I can't justify my spending by the "your child's classroom will earn free books!" line. I wonder just how many books I have to buy for the classroom to get one book...
• Have you read any good books lately? Nothing too heavy or long. A good read a chapter or two while waiting in the preschool parking lot type of book.
• Did I mention I was running the fall book fair at A's school this year? M will be horrified, the last time I ran the book fair I spent a good part of the month's budget on books.
• How can someone not love books?
  

The things memories are made of

Yesterday Lovely Friend's daughter turned three, and they threw a joint birthday party/end of sumer bash in their backyard. C and A were beyond excited, and spent all afternoon hanging around the front door asking if it was time to go yet. We finally departed and were, of course, the first to arrive.

Lovely Friend, who is much more creative than I, had set up 12 "carnival" stations around the yard. There was fishing in the kiddie pool, bobbing for apples, a bean bag toss, and my personal favorite, pin the tail on the Nemo. If only she had told me that Nemo was the theme ahead of time, I still have a closet full of Nemo party supplies from C's third birthday that I would have been happy to donate to the cause...

The kids raced through the games and I thought "Here we go, it is 4:45 and they are done with the entertainment. THIS will be a fun evening." But the they happily played the games over and over again. And when the fishing pole finally broke, and the last of the bean bags ended up over the neighbors fence the kids began to play elaborate games on Lovely Friend's new swing set.

As I stood there and watched C pushing A and his best friend M on the glider with everyone giggling, and then A chasing Lovely Friend's older daughter down the slide, and then C organizing a game of pin the fish on the mommy, I was struck by how these are the things the kids will remember some day. C may have a hard time remembering his kindergarten teacher's name (I know I don't have a blessed clue who mine was) but I will bet that he will always remember the carnival in Lovely Friend's backyard.

All about the memes this week

As seen at Meg's...

Take the Quiz here!

The one in which I throw up my hands and give up

M has had horrific allergies since about the time we got married and started living together. Which was also right about the time that Dumb Cat and Lazy Cat moved in. And horrific allergies means not just snuffling and sneezing but actual ending up at urgent care or the hospital several times a year because his chest is so congested he can't take a deep breath and he physically can't stand up without falling over.

About four years ago I finally made him mention the situation to his doctor who promptly announced that it had to be the cats and to get rid of them. M refused to part with his adored Lazy Cat (Dumb Cat he would have sent off in a heartbeat I believe) so the doctor put him on some allergy meds, which helped greatly but if he forgets to take a dose he ends up ill again.

After the last round of driving my husband to the now not so conveniently located urgent care center at 6am in the morning, I finally put my foot down and insisted that he make an appointment with A's very nice allergist so we could find out what exactly it was he was allergic to. Because enough is enough, and while I don't know that I could get rid of the cats if M was indeed allergic, I could at least ban them from M's office and our bedroom in hopes that it helped somewhat.

So yesterday, M headed in and got jabbed several times to try and discover the reason for his suffering. Upon hearing his story the allergist was also convinced it was the cats but tested for all the common household allergens just to be safe (all while informing M that his current drug regimen was all wrong given his heart issues, how lovely!)

After his appointment M called me and announced "The good news is, the cats can stay. The bad news is, I'm allergic to dust. Highly allergic to dust. Allergic to the point my arm swelled up." Of course my first reaction was, "Huh. A swells up, perhaps she too is highly allergic to dust. We didn't test that one." And my second reaction was "Oh GOD. He's allergic to dust and I am the world's worst housekeeper." And my third reaction was "Of course! He moved from his parent's home which is always spotless to my, um, less than spotless home, and that's when the allergies really kicked in! FABULOUS!"

So first I rejoiced in the fact that the cats could stay and then I suggested that perhaps his parents would love to buy one of the new condos in town and he could move back in with them and I could bring the kiddos over to visit daily. But now I think I probably have to get serious about replacing the ten year old cheap-o vacuum that has never really worked well, and the 20 year old down pillows that I sure would make the allergist shudder. And, according to the internets, the lovely sheepskin rugs we got for our wedding from my mom are right. out. As are the lovely floor length drapes that came with the house and I have always coveted (just not, perhaps, in the current color). And M's favorite smother yourself in warmth down comforter that I am sure is just a breeding ground for dust mites...

I think it would have been easier to keep the cats out of the bedroom.

Tres Cool

As seen at Barbara's. Who was also nice enough to help me out with the code!



Please click through and help me refine my Daemon!

Mac Truck

I feel like a mac truck ran over me sometime around 11am. And it is only 1:30 in the afternoon. Round up of the first day to follow, perhaps after the kids go to bed, or perhaps once my head stops spinning from the frantic effort of trying to ramp up to a normal schedule after a summer of doing nothing.

I'll get used to this, right? RIGHT?

Apple, Smapple

So when C arrived at his new elementary school for orientation last spring, they gave him an apple with his name on it. To wear the first day of school. You already see where this is going, don't you. Right. To make a long story short, the apple, it is gone. And apparently, not only was I supposed to keep track of that apple for the summer, I was supposed to keep track of it for 12 FRICKING YEARS. Because C is supposed to wear it when he graduates from high school.

After a frantic phone call to Lovely Friend, who assured me that yes, the apple was VERY important, and then no, she was fairly confident that I was not the only parent who had lost the apple over the summer, I actually checked the back to school list sent out last week when we finally got C's class assignment (mornings, at the school .51 miles from our house instead of the one 2+ miles, yeah!). On that list, a recent picture of your child.

You would think that would be an easy one, wouldn't you. But, yet, to finish off my day of no apple, I was unable to locate my camera, and the last pictures I had of my kids that were actually downloaded onto the computer were from last December. When C had a buzz cut and A still had bangs. So I did what any self-respecting 35 year old does when faced with a crisis, I called my parents.

"Grandpa S! You're home! Thank GOD! I need you to email me a current picture of the kids!"

"Umm, OK, why?"

"Because! I can't find my camera, and I need to have a picture by tomorrow and I already don't have the damn apple and I don't want to be THAT parent."

"You don't have the apple?"

"It's a long story, I just need pictures. Any pictures, I don't care."

And God bless my step-father, 20 minutes later pictures of my children arrived. But what I really want to know is, how many other 35 year olds had to call their parents the night before school started in order to complete the back-to-school assignments for their kindergarteners? I'm guessing not many.

I'm such an organizational disaster. And I so totally have to get on the apple making committee next year so I can make multiple copies of the apple. Because while I am not the most organized parent, I know how to work the system. And clearly the system calls for multiple copies of red wooden apples stashed all over the house for the next 12 years...

End of the summer confessions

• The first day of school cannot come soon enough.
• And I am not at all sorry that the pool is closing tomorrow so I can place the pool paraphernalia into storage for the winter.
• Although I do miss Maine. I wish there was a way to spend the whole summer there.
• And I'm not just saying that because the kids were in camp there for two hours a day, every day.
• I'm sick of cooking. And cleaning. I think five and a half years into the gig, I may be done being a housewife.
• Unfortunately, it's not like I can just start checking the help wanteds and move on to a better job.
• Did the use of the words "help wanteds" just date me? I have a feeling that the fact that I found my last paid job through the New York Times print edition does not bode well for my future employability.
• But, I suppose that in three (or is it four?) years, when both children are actually at the same school for the same number of hours, being a housewife might become more appealing. Maybe.
• I am seriously regretting not sending my children to the church preschool/kindergarten where they would both be otherwise occupied in the same location at the same time.
• I am dreading the five-plus trips a day to and from my house to get the children to their respective schools. It will really suck when it rains.
  
• I know Rebecca is screaming "Cry me a river!" at the computer screen right now. And I do admit, when it rains we will so totally be driving that .51 miles to kindergarten.
• But I will think of her for the minute that I will be in the car, I swear.
• The first day of school cannot come soon enough...