20 May
Alden, over his shoulder as he walks out of the room, “Hey Grammy, I’m going to take a nap. If you want to destroy me, now’s your chance.”
Today in the car…
Alden: “I want to climb Mountain Everest.”
Me: “Please don’t ever climb Mountain Everest.”
Alden: “Mommy. If I don’t bother the abomindable snowman, he won’t bother me.”
My patience is running short today. I need reminders and a little patience for myself.
9 Apr
Don’t let the cheerful faces fool you.
Let me back up.
I has three work trips, two unusually long, in four weeks. Many things fell by the wayside (hello blog), including Easter prep. Stuffing baskets is the easy part. At least I assume it’s easy. I didn’t lay eyes on ours until the same moment the boys did. Thanks Damon! What I mean by prep is filling the boys in on the giant rabbit who is going to come to our house in the night. Driving to school on Friday it occurred to me that Alden probably doesn’t remember last year. I opened the conversation with “Hey, guess who’s coming this weekend.” Turns out the poor kid not only doesn’t remember last year, he doesn’t remember ever hearing of this before.
My half of the conversation looked a lot like this:
– “Not a rabbit rabbit. A giant rabbit. With, like, pants on.”
– “He brings eggs because… he is friends… with a chicken. Also with Santa!”
– “No, no. Santa isn’t coming this weekend.”
I managed to confuse him so badly that at one point he said, very tentatively, “Is it my birthday?”
It was pretty much a gallop downhill after that.
What I don’t understand is how anyone manages the Easter basket candy at 7am. Do people give kids their baskets and then yank the candy out of their hands until a good breakfast has been had by all? We did not, and so in short order we had two kids in total sugar freefall. We didn’t let them eat much. But it was enough that they refused their breakfast. And so we crammed two buzzing, fussing little boys into their Sunday finest and carted them off to church. A new church my Mom wanted to visit. We were late. We had to search for the nursery. My allergies got the better of me and I had to leave for a while mid-service. I was that woman no one knows walking repeatedly up and down the aisle. When we picked the boys up after the service and Alden hugged me and said, “How was the wedding?” We do not normally look our Sunday Best on Sundays, I guess.
We got off on the wrong foot and could not get our mojo back all day.
Tantrum Eggs
That’s Elliot taking advantage of Alden’s basket-flinging fit.
And that’s Elliot hoping to make a picnic of pretzels he found in the church playground gravel.
He didn’t appreciate being thwarted either time.
Having a swingset all to ourselves helped, though.
My Mom also made us an excellent brunch for which I had to do not one thing. And I’ve gotten this posted before the end of April. I’m going to call it a draw.
8 Mar
I’m on a business trip. That means Damon’s on his own with the boys for a few days. He just texted me to let me know that Alden’s bedtime demands were epic. When I asked him to tell me more, this was his transcription of what Alden wanted:
– to spin around while music played
– two separate glasses of water
– Elliot to leave
– Damon to leave
– Breakfast bar
– Pirate story
– unlimited access to iPad
– Elliot to leave
– a burger
– unlimited amount of time to climb the blanket box
– Damon to leave
It is no small wonder that Damon’s hauling them to his Mom’s house as soon as school gets out tomorrow.
3 Mar
Things got crazy in the run up to the holidays. I cranked through a few more recipes, but didn’t get to writing about them. Then Alden got sick on the first of January. I don’t think I’ve cooked a meal since.
My life list languishes, cobwebby and neglected. I don’t want that to happen to this recipe project.
Today something simple, hand-written on an unlined index card.
Asparagus Vinaigrette (serves 4)
1lb asparagus
3T olive oil
1T wine vinegar
1/2-1tsp Dijon mustard (I use a heaping half)
Heat a little water in a large skillet. Bring to a boil. Add asparagus & cover. Simmer 5-8 min til “crisp” tender. remove, rinse in cold water. Drain & pat dry. Set on platter & drizzle dressing over.
Dressing: Combine vinegar, mustard, salt & pepper. Gradually whisk in oil.
Serve hot, room
It’s not my dad’s handwriting. Possibly it came from his sister, my Aunt Pat. It’s the kind of thing I saw regularly on the table. Dad loved asparagus.
2 Mar
In the last hour I have heard the following:
“Mommy, my new rule is that whenever I touch you I have to stop and hug and kiss you.”
“Wanna fight?”
