Tag Archives: children

I’m Trying to Feed my Children

I think I have stated here how much I truly hate cooking.

And if we are being completely honest, I believe it hates me too.

It’s just so much work trying to come up with ideas and then buying the ingredients.  Nowadays people also expect it to be HEALTHY.

Who has time for this?

You put studying spelling with your kids on top of this and it’s just overwhelming.

So I did what every mom with a computer who is really lazy and spends too much time on Facebook and Google does and found a company that will send me food every week.

Then I found one that actually delivers to Montana.

HelloFresh sends me three meals a week with the ingredients and the recipes and I just have to throw it together.  This generally takes 40 minutes.  And this is the main problem.

I have to be home for 40 minutes in the evening.  HAHAHAHA

Tonight I am getting my son to the gym at 4:30; my daughter to soccer at 5; pick up my son at 5:30; pick up my daughter at 6:30 (this will actually be punted to my husband) and take the dog to training at 6:30 because the purebred mutt still poops in the basement and does not sit still for more than 5 seconds.  (We will be doing puppy training again in the new year.  And we will keep doing it until the dog stays dagnabit.)

(I apologize for my language.)

I will be home all evening starting at 7:30pm.  So my family can either eat at 8:30 pm or I can make the meal at 3pm and my children can complain of hunger at 8:30 pm.

At the same time, I’m making meals that look like this:

Italian meatloaf with green beans and garlic and basil mashed potatoes. (I will never be able to make this again but look how pretty!)

Italian meatloaf with green beans and garlic and basil mashed potatoes. (I will never be able to make this again but look how pretty!)

And they are well-balanced and nutritious.  I really do love it.  It takes virtually no thought on my part and I look over achieving.  It’s a little gourmet for my kids at times but they get to try foods I would never cook if not for this company.

I save the meals for nights when I will have time to make them.  (Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday)

And the rest of the time, I buy pizza.

Holy Toledo, Batman

I am having serious issues.

Thank you for not commenting.

I’m experimenting with writing personal essay and articles.  I’ve been blogging for so long that I don’t know how to write correctly.  I’m used to just throwing my thoughts down on a piece of computer screen and calling it a day.

And now I’m trying to combine blogging with five paragraph essays and seeing what happens.

Due to the fact that I cannot seem to do more than two things at once, I’ve pushed away blogging.  (The other thing I’m doing rotates between housework and studying Spanish.)

So I’m going to be honest.  I’m about to write a few blogs that will come out over the next week or so.  I’m going to talk about my amazing new cooking ability; the book launch I went to in Canada with drag queens; and how to end global warming.

(The book launch had drag queens.  I did not go to Canada with any.  Although that would’ve been a blast.)

Then I’m going to ignore you and try to write brilliant and global pieces on canning; coming to grips with being a feminist and a stay at home mom; how I have no domestic training and yet my children are not malnourished; and how to end global warming.

And I’m editing to get ready for the Surrey Writing Conference.

And trying to train this dog.

And giving up white sugar and flour.

What can I say?  This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever tried to do.

All while ending global warming.

This is an abstract image of my life.

This is an abstract image of my life.

That Place with the Trampolines

Today I am not writing about exercising.  (YEAH) Today I am writing about the joys of Spring Break.

I get out of town for Spring Break.  80% of the time I visit my folks in Utah.  Unless it’s been a really bad winter and then sometimes I make last minute plans and fly the family out to California.  But that only happened twice.  And the winters were really, really bad.  Trust me.  It was ugly.

I use this time to visit my family.  They all live in Utah for some reason.  And to do something fun to bond with my kids.  That way we can do our own things the rest of the year and not feel guilty about it.

This time, my kids wanted to go to “that place with trampolines.”  They’ve been begging for a year now.  But that’s all I got as a description.  “That place with trampolines we went to with our cousins.”

Utah is full of places with trampolines.

It’s like the whole state hates me.

But I picked three and decided to take the kids to those three.

Unless I get the right one before we get to all three.  Because we don’t want to bond too much.

We may actually start getting along then.

In the summer, we make the children bond by sleeping outside.  On a mattress that slowly deflates during the night.

In the summer, we make the children bond by sleeping outside on a mattress that slowly deflates during the night.

Post Apocalypse AKA Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is one of the more fascinating holidays, in my opinion.  Some women love it and spend the day posting cute little pictures on social media.  Some women loathe it and spend the day posting scathing comments on social media.  Actually, those usually come before Mother’s Day.

There’s no definitive test to motherhood.  At the same time, there seems to be a lot of scrutiny on mothers.  They seem to be the deciding factor on whether or not people will succeed or fail in life.  Which only kind of makes sense because great moms can have truly rotten kids and rotten mothers can have wonderful kids who “rise above it all.”

My kids were very kind on Mother’s Day.  They helped make breakfast and they’d made gifts for me at school.  I wore two handmade pins and I read how my youngest loves me because I make him cake and my oldest wrote I’m best at “running and calling it jogging.”

I smiled all day.  It was exhausting.

But I do a have a teeny, tiny problem with Mother’s Day.  Every year, I get a plant.  It may be from a child or from church or from a friend, but I get one just the same.  Plants distress me.

I can’t keep them alive.

So on Mother’s Day, the day that celebrates my ability to raise human beings, I am given a living object I can’t keep alive.  Do you see the paranoia this can cause?  It’s like I’m given a gift that screams : “MURDERER!”

It makes it very difficult to keep smiling.

Alien Abduction part one

I’m not positive, but I may have been abducted recently.  I don’t have any strange markings, except I do have a couple pimples, but I think aliens are getting trickier and are hiding their experiments better.

I’ve been wondering about this because I just haven’t been myself recently.

I’ve done the best I can to create the persona that I am unwilling to do things that do not deliberately benefit myself.  This persona is much harder to develop than it seems.  I’d thought I’d done an amazingly good job at this until, during a 20 minute time span, I was asked for 2 different favors yesterday.  I woke up  thinking I just had to buy a baby gift and two birthday gifts and ended up leaving Target agreeing to teach a computer class tonight and three Wednesday kids’ college classes on games.  (Also showing that my persona of being a child loather also has a few holes in it.)

I rarely volunteer for stuff.  But I also rarely say no when asked to do stuff.  (Unless I’ve already agreed to something else.)  The universe is supposed to make sure those 2 parts of the equation balance out and agree with my developed antisocial persona.

Now my whole understanding of the universe is being brought into question.  But I don’t have time to figure it out because I have to learn how to use my computer by this evening (and I use a Mac which won’t apply to most of the people who show up so if anyone knows some general virus tips, I’m accepting them) and I have to finalize the game Left, Right, Center to play with two groups of 10-11 year olds at noon tomorrow.

My son doesn’t want to be one of them, by the way.  I asked him if he wanted to take my kids’ college class.  He paused and said, “No. That’s OK.  Thanks though.”

(But don’t worry.  Like any good mom, I will force him to go support me.)

Tomorrow's game plan.  And don't worry about all of that candy.  I'm married to a dentist so it's ok.

Tomorrow’s game plan. And don’t worry about all of that candy. I’m married to a dentist so it’s OK.

A Delayed Post About a Bomb Threat

This has been an odd week.  Actually, that’s probably not the right word.

Our school district had three bomb threats this week.  THREE.  Monday there was a bomb threat at one of the high schools.  Wednesday an anonymous caller said there was a bomb at an elementary school.  Today, an anonymous caller said there was a bomb at one of the schools.

All of the schools were evacuated.  I picked my kids up Wednesday and today.  Both days things were handled very efficiently and calmly.  My kids asked me what was up and I told them that someone had called in and threatened the schools.  Today my 6 year old told a friend he was out of school because “we had another bomb day.”

I remember growing up during the Cold War and that there was always this slight fear a nuclear war would break out.  As a kid, I didn’t really understand what all of this meant except that Russians seemed to be bad guys in A LOT of films.  I guess every generation grows up with a little fear but this seems much closer to home.

I didn’t believe there was a bomb either time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not completely and utterly pissed off.  A person should not threaten children.  It is not a “gag” to threaten a school.  I want this person caught and prosecuted and I want them to rot in jail.

I don’t consider myself a very violent person.  Sure I like the occasional hockey fight as much as the next person, but I’ve never had the desire to punch anyone until this week.  I think if I met the person or persons responsible, I would take a swing.

I don’t know if that makes me a bad person; if I should learn to forgive and move on.  Here is my problem with that: I think it’s someone out to just have some fun and games.  I don’t think it’s someone who needs help.  I think it’s a complete and utter jerk.  And I guess, deep down, I believe it’s OK to punch complete and utter jerks who threaten kids.

Say A Little Prayer For You

Dear Readers,

I am asking you to come along on a journey with me.  I wish I could tell you it would be a wonderful and blissful journey through middle earth, but alas it is not.  It is more a journey through torment and a test of will power.

Yesterday I started a cleanse.  Now this isn’t one of those cleanses where you only drink juice until you die.  It’s actually a pretty decent once.  You eat three meals a day and even a snack.  Your meals are protein and veggies with a complex carb. You’re supposed to eat clean, of course.  You simply add this lovely, thick high fiber drink in the morning and some fiber pills at night.  And you cut out white sugar and flour and soda.

Pretty much you take out all happiness from your life.

I’ve decided to try this for 24 days.  That’s it.  If I can manage 24 days then we shall see where we are at then.  I’m not making any promises.

Exercise goals are easy.  You run a couple miles and you are done for the day.  Eating goals are ALL DAY LONG.  THEY NEVER END.  You can’t get up and get them over with.  You live with them all the time.  I hate them.  So that is my one goal this year and I’m two days in.

But I need your help dear readers.

I need you to pray for my children.

Because I’m unsure they will understand when their normally sane and happy mommy starts crying because they need their pants synched 2 inches while they’re eating leftover Christmas candy and she’s drinking fiber sludge and running to the bathroom at inopportune times.  Just pray that they will either forget these moments or will find wonderful therapists in their adult lives.

And maybe, just maybe, by eating clean, I’ll have fewer headaches and more energy.  Maybe giving up happiness is worth that.  (And please forgive any posts that seem slightly angry during the next 22 days.  It isn’t me.  It’s the fiber sludge.)

They offer meal replacements for those of us who are truly lazy.  Shockingly, I often take this option.

They offer meal replacements for those of us who are truly lazy. Shockingly, I often take this option.

I’ve Made a Rash (and yet Delicious) Decision

I’ve made a rash decision and I’ve done so without discussing it with my husband.  I hope he understands but if he doesn’t, it’s really too late.  I hope it doesn’t do any permanent damage to our relationship but I feel as though it was a personal decision and I was ready.  It’s taken a few years to get here but I feel as though I’ve matured enough now and it’s time.

I signed up for the Fruit and Cheese of the Month Club.

I’m kind of excited.  Fruit of the Month seemed like a really big decision and I couldn’t do it.  But then I saw that I could get it with cheese and it was as though the whole world expanded.

With cheese, Fruit of the Month becomes educational.  I figure Harry and David will do all of the work matching what cheese goes best with what fruit and all I have to do is blend the two.  By the end of the year, I will know how to eat cheese and fruit TOGETHER.

I also feel as though this gives my children a hand up in the world.  They will grow up knowing what cheese goes best with what fruit.  Something I didn’t have at their age. Who knows what doors this may open?  I’m pretty sure it will help with the Harvard applications.  (Although truth be told, I’ve been flirting with Stanford lately.)

I will keep you updated.  I promise to share my new knowledge.  Otherwise it would really just be selfish.

I hope my husband understands.

Does it come cut up and dipped in chocolate too?

Does it come cut up and dipped in chocolate too?

But Baby, It’s Cold Outside

I had one of those “Parenting” moments this morning.  One of those moments where you have no idea if you’re doing the right thing so you just pick one and decide Dr. Phil would be on my side.  And if he’s not, it’s ok because he can be a little self-righteous.

It’s my yearly goal to only buy my kids one winter coat.  I’m very vigilant about asking them where they’re coats are.  I generally buy the coats too big in hopes I can use them two years.  Last year I bought a 3-in-1 coat that you can unzip the inside fleece for one son and my daughter.  This is the warmest coat at Land’s End.  I also thought it would be the most versatile.   Until my kids started unzipping the coats themselves and leaving the inner or outer coat different places.

My son is missing the inner liner.  He’s decided the outer liner is actually colder without it.  (I think it’s because it’s nylon rather than fleece.)  So he wouldn’t wear it this morning.  I could’ve either:

  1.  Forced him to wear the coat
  2. Let him be cold so he would “learn a lesson.”

I chose #2 even though as a kid I would never admit I was cold until about 15 degrees.  So I have some of that “my kid’s gonna be cold Mommy guilt.”

Then I decided to buy him a new coat that doesn’t separate.  But it isn’t rated to -15 and in Montana, that can be important.

A friend buys her kids warm coats and then embroiders their office logo on it so when her kid leaves it somewhere no one will take it.  I’ve been thinking about doing that.

Because when I wrote my number on the back of their coats in large, permanent numbers, there were some unwanted results.

What Did You Melt With a Car’s Cigarette Lighter?

When I was a kid, the cigarette lighter in the car kept us entertained for hours.  We burned the edges of every plastic snow scraper my mom got for free from car insurance companies.  We burned both ends of pens.  (After taking the ink out so it wouldn’t explode.)   (We weren’t stupid.)  It was fun for all ages.  But we always knew that it was hot and we shouldn’t touch it.  That’s why we melted things with long handles and we kept our hands far, far away.

We knew what a cigarette lighter was for;  we saw people lighting cigarettes with them and we saw the fire they created.  It wasn’t anything taught us.  It was something we intrinsically knew.  It was part of society.

Not so anymore.

My new car doesn’t even have a cigarette lighter, but our older car does.  My husband and I never thought about it.  Until our boys decided to see how the lighter works.   They didn’t realize they started fires.  Even though they know it’s called a LIGHTER.  My youngest got a blister. They thought it would just shock them.

So learn from our pain.  If you have an older car, DO NOT assume your kids know that cigarette lighters are actually hot enough to burn.  (And DO NOT assume that the large red circle will give them the slightest hint.)

DO sit them down with a can of root beer and the first season of Starsky and Hutch.  Everything should come together by episode 10.

(Maybe read a book about how you can increase your children’s common sense, too.  And email me your findings.)