Happy New Year

Well, there's my little nuggets on the first day of the 2010-11 school year.  I took a picture of Mr. C and 9 too, but that picture was taken with another camera an hour and a half prior to this one, and since at that time I didn't have my coffee.... or a shower.... or even my eyes open.... that picture will remain unviewed since it's simply too much to ask of me right now to dig out the other camera and actually upload two pictures.

I'm sure you all understand.

So this first day of school went much smoother than last year.  Last year I could've won an award for "Biggest Failure on a Mother's Part for First Day of Kindergarten Drop Off, Ever." I was telling a friend of mine the story today, and it occurred to me that maybe I should share it with you all.  You know, since I'm always up for letting the world know what a crazy moron I can be at times.

Here it is:  Last year PG started Kindergarten.  The night before school started we picked out her outfit, ironed it, and hung it on her door frame for morning.  We did a run through with her hair so we could avoid a.m. hair battles.   Her lunch was packed with a special note tucked inside from her dad and I.  The camera was charged, the car had gas, and my purse held an adequate supply of Kleenex.  Having taught Kindergarten and witnessed many a weepy mother sweetly bid their child goodbye at the door, I was looking forward to my own sentimental mommy rite of passage.

So, morning of everything was going great.  I got all children up, dressed, and fed by 7:30.  I myself was dressed in one of my more upscale mommy outfits (a.k.a jeans and a t-shirt) and armed with waterproof mascara.  School started at 8:15, so we left at 7:40.  That's 35 minutes early.  Smart right?

Nooooooooooooo.


After driving round and round the parking lot for 10 minutes, driving back out onto the street to unsuccessfully look for spots there, and then circling the parking lot again, I was in panic mode.  Kindergarten started in 10 minutes, I still had no parking space and worst of all, I knew that it was going to be impossible for me to change over from this stress mode to sentimental mommy mode. It was looking like I could kiss goodbye my visions of any sweet exchanges between PG and I as she embarked on her first day.


When we finally found a parking spot, there was 3 minutes left to the bell.  So I began yelling like a drill sergeant at the kids to "Get out of the car! Get out of the car! Get out of the car!"  I threw PG her backpack, hauled out the baby carrier for then-9-month Roo, grabbed J by the hand and proceeded to run like a mad woman towards the Kindergarten Yard.  In our haste, J tripped and fell, getting gravel stuck in his palm and both knees.  I was so focused on getting my kid to the gate that I just kept dragging his bleeding little self along, and suddenly there was a small Hispanic woman who witnessed J's fall running after me with her hands outstretched shouting "Pobrecito!  Pobrecito!".

And that's how we arrived at the gate: one wild-eyed crazed mother, one crying 3 year old with blood dripping down his knees, one clueless baby, and one bewildered Kindergartner.

Plus one random Hispanic grandmother.

The class was just heading through the door as we arrived.  The environment was no less hectic on the play yard with all the parents milling about and kids crying.  I managed to push PG into line so that she'd be the last one in.  I had just enough time to glance at her desperate confused little face before she disappeared into her classroom and the door shut behind her.

Then I realized that I hadn't told her goodbye, much less told her I loved her, or that everything would be okay, or that I was proud of her.

See?  Worst First Day of Kindergarten Drop Off Ever.  I take the prize.

So this year, I planned a little better.  We got there early and had plenty of time to walk (at a normal pace) to her classroom.   We hung up her backpack, I got her situated, I told her I loved her, that everything would be okay, and that I was proud of her.

Bases covered.  Whew.

On the way out of the school grounds, I passed by the principal who greeted me with a cheerful, "Happy New Year!"

What a dork.  But I kind of liked what he said.  In fact, I'm going to steal it.  Happy New (school) Year! To all my mama friends who have their babies going out into the world, may your children's year be filled with an excitement for learning and a wonder for the world.

And may the Parking Gods be with you.

You all have a good night!

Finger Food Friday on Saturday: Edition My House Smells Like Fried Food

Allright.  I've said before that I'm not a quitter.  I committed at the beginning of summer to do a FFF for the whole season, and that is the ONLY reason why you're seeing a post here tonight.
That, and the fact that a few of you wrote and told me that you loved Finger Food Friday.  Lesson #1 on getting your way with Meanie Mom: Flattery will always light the way to my vain little heart.

So here it is.

Tonight we're doing Onion Rings.  It's a recipe from the September Edition of Everyday Rachael Ray Mag.  I guess I love her, despite the fact that her recipes usually call for a million ingredients that don't really end up complimenting each other.  It's like she throws an elaborate party with a bunch of people who have nothing in common.  The party ends up okay, but you walk away knowing your evening would have been more enjoyable if you'd just stayed home with a bottle of wine and a Netflix.

Check me out with my metaphors.

Anyway, I tend to look for her less complicated recipes.  Here's all the ingredients you'll need for onion rings:

That's 3 cups of pancake mix, 3 onions (I only used one.  Long uninteresting story.), 2 cups of Club Soda or Seltzer Water (Is there even a difference? Serious, if you know, please inform me.  It's one of those trivial facts that I hate not knowing the answer to), 1 1/2 tsp. of Chili Powder, and enough Vegetable Oil to fill up your frying pan to 3 inches.

First thing is obvious.  Cut up your onion rings.

Wear some goggles.  I don't care how dorky you look.  Serious!  Wear them, unless you want to tear up like you're watching the final scenes of Rudy.  

Ruuuuuuudy! Ruuuuuudy! 

Kills me.

Anyway.  I'll try harder to stay focused tonight.  Let's keep going. 

Next, you dump 3 cups of pancake mix into a bowl. 

Then you add 1 1/2 tsp. of chili powder.  Remember, I don't really ever measure.  I just eyeball it.  So feel free to live on the edge like me.  

Then you mix it up with some salt.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention salt in the ingredient list.  Just go ahead and pretend like I remembered.  It's 1tsp or so.  

If you're even measuring.  

Next, you slowly whisk in the Club Soda until everything is nice and smooth. 

See that above?  Not smooth. Keep going.  

There, that's better.  By the way, I really should have used a larger bowl, but what could I do?  I was knee deep in the middle of FFF.  Besides, it's all part of the 1 onion vs. 3 onion story I mentioned earlier.  

Don't ask.  

Okay, now you dip your rings in and get them nice and coated.  

You may want to kind of dangle the onion above the bowl and let all the excess batter drip off.  It'll save you some mess.  

You're welcome.  

Next, you heat up your oil in your frying pan (the recipe says to about 325 degrees, but I just watch it and make sure that it's rippling hot.  That's worked better than any old thermometer so far.).

Drop those babies in there and fry them up for 2 minutes, turning once.  

You know what's going to go on my bucket list?  "Learn to take a good picture of food frying in a pan." Why can't I ever get a good shot of that?  

Anyway, take them out and drain them on a paper towel or a paper bag.  Salt them, and voila!  Onion Rings. 

Just look at all that greasy goodness.  Yum.  

By the way, sorry bout the terrible quality of photos today.  Ever since I got back from Vegas, my camera has been acting up.  My photography friend followers- Charlotte?  Natalie?  Mr. C?  Any suggestions are welcome.   Tell me what to do with these shadows and bright spots.  I'm beyond annoyed.  

Despite my faulty camera, the family reacted well to onion rings.  They brought a smile to 9's face. 

By the way, did you notice that 9 got a hair cut?  He starts high school on Monday.  High school! And this weekend I taught him how to back my car out of the driveway.  

Did I tell you guys that I met him when he was in Kindergarten? 

I think the theme of my summer has been "Time doesn't care about how young you feel, the fact of the matter is you're getting old, sister." 

 At least I'm having fun doing it. 

You all have a good night.   

Schmuck Be A Lady

Well, I'm back from Sin City.  My trip was amazing..... a show every night, a spa day at the Bellagio, poolside rum drinks, hot weather, the fluffiest, softest, most loveliest bed you could ever imagine all to myself, and my bff for more than 30 years to hang out with.  It was perfect.

Except for one thing.

I am old.

I mean, not just on the inside like I was joking about in my last post.  Apparently I am old on the outside too.

And Vegas is a really bad place to come to this realization.

Let me tell you friends, in Vegas, there are pretty young girls everywhere.  They are at the pool in their little string bikinis with their smooth, tanned, flat bellies.  They are on the strip in their little black dresses with their perfectly applied makeup and flat ironed hair.  They are in the casinos, at the bars, in the clubs.  Everywhere you go, they are there serving as living, breathing, carefree and youthful reminders that them I am no longer.  

Actually, I'm not really sure I ever really was them.  Seriously, how do they get their hair so perfect?

It didn't matter how good I felt about myself every evening when I first left my hotel room.   No matter how well the Spanx sucked in my flab, no matter how perfectly hot rolled my hair was, no matter how tight the collagen mask had made my pores, every night I'd still step out of the elevators feeling the need to mutter a self validation mantra to myself: "I am beautiful, I am smart, I am kind."

I am old.

When did I turn into her?

When I was leaving our home on my way to Vegas, Mr. C called after me "Make smart choices!", which made me giggle because he sounded so much like Francis Dormand in Almost Famous; when she drops her son off in the parking lot at a rock concert and shouted at him through the car window "Don't do drugs!"

Anyway, Mr. C's reminder was helpful to me while I was in Vegas.  Not because I needed to be reminded to make smart choices, but because I know that in comparison to all the hot young girls I may look like Dolly Vegas up there, but to Mr. C I still look like me- and that person he considers attractive enough to be approachable.  And dangerous.

Rawr.

You all have a good night.

Vacation Gag Reel

Allright, I think I've hammered you all with enough vacation stories.  I've posted more in this last week than I usually do in a month (and I thank you for reading them!).  So here's the last one.  It's just non-sequitar list of a few silly things I made mental notes of.

- When you chew Trident Layers Pineapple Melon Gum after you've eaten half a box of Pepper Jack Flavored Cheez-Its, the resulting taste is ashtray.
Or at least what I imagine an ashtray would taste like.

- We coined a new term on our trip: Farch.  It's a combination of a march (as in hup, 2,3,4) and a fart.  That one was thanks to J.

- My daughter is a lot like me in the fact that she doesn't like to be cold.  At all.  This was illustrated by the fact that she lovingly named her jacket..... Fluffy.

Here's a picture of her and Fluffy:

- J got a bunch of Toy Story 3 toys from his birthday, of which he brought a small Sheriff Woody figurine and a larger pull-string Sheriff Woody.  Throughout the trip Mr. C and I would have to turn away and smirk because J would randomly call out things like "Have you seen my big Woody?" or "Anyone want to play with the little Woody?"

If it's not crass humor, then it's potty talk.  That's what living with Mr. C is like. 

- In keeping with the Toy Story 3 theme, J is still mishearing words a lot.  His pullstring Sheriff Woody says "Where's my trusty steed Bullseye?" but J walked around demanding of us, "Where's my crusty steed Bullseye?"

The mental image of what a crusty steed must look like makes me laugh. 

And last, this isn't a funny.  It's just another excuse for me to put up a cute pic of Roo.  

She fell asleep on one of our hikes.  Am I the only one who just wants to eat those cheeks?  I can't stand it.  I really can't. 

Okay, that's it.  I'm taking the next couple of days off and going to Vegas with my bff for her birthday trip.  I haven't done a girls getaway that was longer than an overnight in about 5 years.  In fact, the last time I did it was when Char and I went to Bacarra Spa in Santa Barbara.  That place was fancy.  It's one of Oprah's fav spas.  They gave us champagne while we were waiting to check in.  We saw K-Fed and a very pregnant Britney Spears ordering plates and plates of food from their private cabana.  And Char and I rolled in in her Ford Escape and asked the valet where the self parking was.  Duh. 

We're classy like that. 

So, I'd sign off with a quip about what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I know I wouldn't be fooling anyone.  The actual words that came out of Char's mouth when she was inviting me on this trip were: "I don't want to go and party and get all crazy.  I just want a quiet trip.  You're my perfect friend for this."

I guess even my friends know I'm 35 going on 85.  

You'll find me in the Keno lounge.  

The Mile High Mama Club (not what you're thinking)

I'm not sure if it was Sequoia or Yosemite where my family took a really beautiful hike up to Topehkah Falls.  (All the pretty places are blending together now in my mind). Anyway, after a gorgeous hike up, we got to the top where there was a beautiful view of a waterfall.  It was breathtaking.

But of course, me being the fun sucker that I am, was all too aware of how high up we were, of all craggy rocks that spiked the landscape below us, and how close we were to the edge.  So I started nervously commandeering every step that every member of our family took around the rocks.  It sounded like this:

"Mr. C!!! Be careful!  J's right there- no!  He's too close to the edge.  Hold his hand!"
"Princess G!  Don't lean on that rock! BECAUSE!  I don't know how safe it is!  Just stand here and look at the pretty waterfall, okay?   No!  You don't need to stand on that rock to see it!"

The eye rolls and sighs from Mr. C did not escape my attention.  I didn't care.

Then, this nice Kathy Bates look alike lady in a ranger uniform asked us if we would like her to take our picture with the falls in the background.  We said sure.

As I was showing her the camera and it's functions, I said to her "Sorry I've been sounding like such a paranoid mother."

She looked me straight in the eyes and said right back, "Honey, from one mama to another, don't EVER apologize for being paranoid.  It is just what we do."

And right then I went from feeling like a silly ninny to a empowered, well.... mother.

Sometimes being in the ranks of motherhood is the best place in the world to be.

Finger Food Friday: Camping Edition

Before we start, I really need you guys all just to be impressed that I even attempted a FFF while camping.  Because, really, it was a disaster.  There is not a recipe or technique anywhere in the next 800 words or so that you are going to want to replicate.  However, if you'd just be impressed (or at the very least, morbidly curious), then maybe there's a little hope that this post won't be a complete waste of your time.

Like I've said before, here's to hoping.

K.  The objective was to make some yummy sliders.  I was going to make just plain old burger, bun, and ketchup sliders for the kiddos and then blow Mr. C's mind by topping ours with some sauteed mushrooms, onions, and a thick gooey slice of Pepper Jack Cheese.

What can I say?  I dream big.

Here's your ingredients.  Slider buns, ground beef, half an onion, a package of sliced mushrooms, olive oil, pepper jack cheese, S&P, and garlic, which somehow did not make it into the shot.

That's probably because it was hiding in one of these boxes:

These boxes, that made up my "kitchen" for the week.

So, first thing, you dump the ground beef into a bowl (or pot, because that's all I had to work with).

I need to confess something.  Ever since Mr. C and I did our half-assed cleanse last month, ground beef has been striking me as really- what's the word? Disgusting? Nasty?  Utterly unappetizing?   

Maybe it's cuz I buy the cheap stuff at a certain large discount super store.  I'm sure their cows aren't of the same caliber as those Jensen cows or Whole Foods cows.  

That must be it. 

Anyway, chop up some onions. Slice half of them into rings and mince the other half. 

   Chop up one clove of garlic.

  Throw the garlic and the chopped onion into the pot with your beef.  Reserve the sliced rings for later.

Add 3 TBS of Olive Oil for every pound of ground up (discount priced national chain superstore) beef.

Then take off your wedding rings ladies, cuz it's about to get messy up in h'yah.

GAWD.  Tonight, even I can't stand how dorky I am. 

Shaking it off, shaking it off. 

Okay.  

Next step.  Mix it all up. 

Form little tiny patties using about 2 inches square of meet.  Or, if you're speaking my language, about a shot glass full.  

 And this is where it all went to you-know-where.  (Sorry, I already used the term "ass" in this post. I can't bring myself to swear again. I'm a good girl like that.)

You may remember how a few months ago I set our backyard on fire while trying to cook bacon? Well, this time I almost burned down the entire lower Yosemite Valley.  Apparently, you shouldn't put burgers this close together on a Hibachi Grill.  

Who knew? 

Mr. C had to take over.  

He was wildly helpful by grabbing the nearest water bottle and dousing my sliders with it.  

Of course, I was wildly helpful in my own way by grabbing the camera and documenting the whole scenario. 

Anyway, after that little spectacle, I was too scared to continue grilling on the hibachi.  So I switched back to the fry pan.  

Don't those soggy burgers look too delicious for words?  

I did, however, skip a few steps.  Let me backtrack to the mushrooms and onions. 

It's easy. You throw them into a fry pan with about a TBS. of Olive oil and the sliced onion rings from earlier, salt and pepper them, then sautee them for about 3 minutes.  

Then, you carefully place them on top of your sliders and dismay when they keep falling off, much like a hat that's 5 sizes too big for your noggin. 

Forging ahead, you determinedly slice up some Pepper Jack Cheese....

And try to balance it on top of the teeny weeny burgers with the oversized mushroom hats.  

And then you realize that there's really not a lot of hope for this dinner.  

But your daughter has put her heart and soul into creating a wonderful side dish of celery with cream cheese.  And you feel like this is a step towards gaining approval from the vegetable gods. 

Then, you really count your blessings because it turns out your husband is a decent photographer who manages to make your soggy burger mess look somewhat appetizing. 

                                       

Somewhat.  

Any most of your family is happy with their dinner.  

Except for the baby, who is sleeping off a fever in the tent and who will, unbeknownst to you at the moment, keep you up all night with worry at how hot and miserable she feels.  

Yeah, that sucked.  

But we all survived.  And I just have two teeny tiny little vacation related posts left, and then we can all put this vacation behind us.  

By the way, another something important about myself that I discovered this summer.... I don't like Finger Food Friday.  I'm going to let Pioneer Woman do what she does really well, (cook and photograph food) and I'm going to move on to something I do well.  Like read.  And talk about books.  

That's right.  I'll be doing another weekly post, but it'll have to revolve around books since they don't require anything of me other than to read them.  

They're quite lovely that way. 

You all have a good night!

The People Next Door

You know, I am such a stickler for old fashioned courtesy.  It's one of my things.  I hate it when cars drive by bumping their bass (especially after I've put Roo down for a nap).  I'm the first to call the cops when my neighbors have a loud party that goes on into the wee mornings.  I'm beyond annoyed when someone stands next to me in line and has a loud phone conversation on their cell.  I just think it's rude.  I do my best to keep my noise (or, more often, my children's noise) out of other people's space, and I expect the same courtesy back.  I'm like a cranky little old lady that way, waving my cane and yelling at all the young whippersnappers to pipe down, already!

I'm aware that this makes me about 85 years old.  

So this last week, Mr. C and I were sounding just like a couple of old farts and talking about people who camp nowadays don't seem to know common courtesy rules.  On our first night in camp, this loud little family pulled in and spent half the night dragging their cooler around and shouting to each other across the campsite.  To top it off, the mother had a voice like Shari Lewis (you know- Lambchop?) and she kept asking her toddler over and over and over if she was sure she didn't have to go potty?  I was ready to march over there and offer that woman the Meaniemom course on courtesy, but Mr. C stopped me.  (This was just as well, as the last time I got up in someone's grill about their lack of courtesy,  I ended up throwing a jar of salsa all over a drunk teenager at 2 in the morning.) 

That's a story for another post.

So anyway.  That family left the next morning, and that afternoon we got a nice quiet couple of guys.  They were camping with their brother and his wife and kids, who were across the road.  We exchanged nods and smiles, but that was about the extent of it.

Then, on the day we were leaving, I noticed this note tucked under the wiper on our windshield.

These guys?  They get an A+++ on the Courtesy Course.  Wish there were more out there like them.

You all have a good night!