There is only one real food group – pizza

If it can’t be microwaved, chances are the turkey boy will not eat it.  I get it – I was a terribly picky eater myself.  He had reflux when he was younger, and I suspect he still does they way he chooses things without sauce, no ketchup on anything, and yes, I’ve rinsed off pork chops for him to eat.   The only vegetable on his menu is a french fry – not even a mashed potato is acceptable.  But what surprises me is his pizza obsession.  I know it’s normal for kids to love pizza, but I figured factoring in his stomach ails, it would be a no-go also.

I give to you acceptable forms of pizza according to the 5yo:

Pizza pockets – these would be the hot pocket version.

Pizza pillows – these are pizza rolls.

Pizza buttons – these are the enclosed version of a bagel bite.

Bagel bites, bundinos, cardboard pizza, and of course, pepperoni delivery. 

Every night, if he had a choice, though I do occasionally break it up with a corn dog or a taquito.  Is it indulgent?  Perhaps, but he gets a healthy-yet-cold lunch each day, and he drinks plenty of water, so I’m ok with it for now.

FFS It’s HOT!

If you think you may have read this somewhere before, well that’s because everyone in Texas and other lower states are saying the same stupid thing – It’s hot!  Stupid hot, as I like to say.  The kind of hot where you can’t think because your brain is boiling. 

We have four different a/c units in our building at work, and the building isn’t that big imo.  They’re situated strangely that the same two units cover our largest classroom and the main lobby, the third one large classroom to itself, and the fourth a small classroom and a back office.  We called the repair service out last week to replace a part on one of the first two, so we know they’re working.  It’s just that this building probably dates back to the Civil War (and yes, I’m exaggerating), so it’s poorly put together, poorly insulated (and poorly wired too for the record.)

For the second half of the day, I had a string of whiney grown men asking if they could turn down the air.  No – first, don’t touch that thermostat!  And second, it was down to 60!  When it’s 100 degrees outside there’s only so much relief you’re going to get in this building.  I suggested they hang outside for a bit then come back in to appreciate what we do have.  And of course, the coke machine picked yesterday to be a stubborn bitch, probably because of the heat too.  Poor whiney men had to drink water! 

It was cooler at the house, but not enough for me.  The air was set at 68, and it was a boiling 77 in the house.  See, I know I’m being a brat.  I get it.  But I was miserable!  First, off came the bra, pretty much unhooking it as I unlocked the front door.  Next the jeans.  I made the kids a microwaved dinner in a tshirt and my undies, and chewed on koolaid flavored ice.  That seemed to help, but I knew it was about to get miserable again since turkey’s bath time is after dinner.  I have these gorgeous vanity lights in my tiny bathroom…you can see where I’m going with this. 

After I got the turkey cleaned and cooled and tucked in, I told the girl I couldn’t handle it any longer, and got back in the shower myself.  Then I sat on my bed in my towel and my drippy hair watching Sunday night’s Iron Chef America, which made me drool!  Battle Curry!  OMGs it was incredible. 

By the halfway point of Iron Chef I realized I was soaking my bed with my damp towel, and I’m not a fan of attempting to sleep in a damp bed. I get seriously ooged out if anything is wrong with my sheets, and yes, I can tell if the 13yo has watched my dvr during the day because inevitably she gets some sort of crumb on my bed.  So I ditched the towel and the comforter and tried to lay as still as possible under my sheet, trying to will my fan tower thingy to blow cooler.  By judgement time, the drooling had passed my body temperature, so I paused to find a snack.

Amy was still up in the living room, watching Family Guy, I think, and furiously texting or emailing on her phone.  I’m not sure when she figured out she had internet access on her phone, but you cannot pry that thing out of her hand now.  Anyway, I flopped my bedsheet about me and headed for the fridge for a snack of shaved turkey rolled in a thin slice of muenster.  Mmmm.  My daughter looked up from the tiny screen for a moment and started giggling.  She gave me the most wonderful compliment I’ve had in a long time: she told me I looked like a Roman Goddess feasting.  Ok, so it was a sideways compliment, but I’ll take what I can get.  And with the phone in her hand…

 

Busted.

Night and Day, and why isn’t it still night?

Turkey boy is home this week, under the somewhat watchful eye of his older sister.  The preschool was having their air conditioners replaced, and even though they had water activities planned and a lot of fans being brought in, I couldn’t imagine how miserable he was going to be, and in turn, how miserable he would make the teachers.  Can you imagine a room full of 4 and 5 year olds in a room without a/c, in Texas, at the end of July?  I took advantage of their vacation week policy, and paid the big sister a chunk of that instead to play video games with him all day long.

Because of this, both bedtimes had to be adjusted a little.  I wanted the big one in bed by ten, but let the smaller one stay up a little past his normal bedtime to try to even them out.  At eight pm last night, I pulled the squeaky clean turkey boy into my bed to snuggle and watch Iron Chef.  This is where I take a slight detour on the subject to ask where his nipple radar came from.  Is this a genetic thing?  I don’t remember snuggling with my daughter at this age and having her bump, jab or pin my nipple every freaking time she moved!  They’re my boobs now!  They haven’t been his in a very long time, so it’s time for him to leave them alone!

Okay, back on track again (thank you for reading my mini boob rant.  Not that my boobs are mini by far, it’s just that the rant was.  I’ll stop now.)  The boy got tossed into his bed around nine.  The girl at ten.  However, my five year old has no concept of sleeping in.  The thirteen year old on the other hand, would sleep the entire day if not for the telephone, internet, and video games.  She did well the first couple days waking up with him, but apparently Day Three was a bit harder.

After I put on my shoes, I crept into their room to whisper and I love you and I’ll see you later.  As i opened the door a crack, turkey boy looked up at me and smiled.  What a way to start my day, let me tell you.  He sat up in slow motion and reached his arms for me, so I had no choice but to go and give him some good morning hugs.  He told me he’d miss me, and I told him I’d miss him too, but he’d have fun today.  And then I had to wake the girl, since the boy was now awake.

She grumbled and scowled.  I resisted the urge to remind Madam Sleepypants that she had already been paid for babysitting this week, and instead tried to be maternal and encourage her to get up. 

She whined, “I don’t understand how he can get up so easily.” 

I told her, “He likes the world.”

She replied, “Well, the world is too early.”

I had to giggle on my way back out of their room and out the front door.  I think she really hit on something there.

Update from yesterday

I want to thank those of you who were there for me yesterday so much for your support. This was a big blow. I remember calling her from the emergency room years ago, when I thought my ex might have broken my shoulder, telling her he hurt me. She came in like the calvary to help, so she said. However, the next day when I ran to get tylenol or something for my son, who was barely a year old at the time, when I got home, he was sitting on the couch with a diaper that had run through his sleeper. She said she didn’t notice. I remember thinking then…how…?

Anyway, I called and talked to my sister last night. She said that the email she had gotten from NM was titled something like, to make me feel better. The content simply stated, I take payments, again referring to the $259 that she supposedly owes her. I suggested she start sending the woman a penny a month, as a joke. At least it got a good laugh.

This morning I logged back into myspace and reported her for the pictures of me and my children posted without my permission. They are posted where anyone can view them. Not even the pictures on my profile, especially of the kids, are open for public view. I’m not trying to get revenge, I’m just trying to make it clear that I want nothing to do with her at all, and despite her sense of entitlement, she doesn’t have and right to show off my children as part of her.

Also, I would like to mention my recent viewers that ended up here by looking for the Next Food Network Star, and ending up viewing the adorable picture of my son taken close to two years ago.  I hope you drop back by occasionally, since I am a fan of the show, and finally watched the finale last night, a day late.  I’m happy with the results, though I really thing the other guy would have made a more interesting show in the end.

PMS Post #3

Yes friends, it’s that time of the month again.  Just for the record, it was Wendy’s.  I’ve now finished the fries and sit staring at the spicy chicken sandwich.  However, for some reason, I’m queasy from who knows what, and will probably end up stashing the sandwich in the fridge here at work. 

On a slightly different food note, I started to pack Turkeyboy’s lunch this morning: genoa salami and provolone (non-smoked), sour cream & cheddar crackers, a juice box, and a sweet snack.  I figured the coconut wafer cookies would be a good addition.  As I grabbed for the bag, the teenager who was surprisingly awake at 7 this morning – well, not as surprising because her brother had run in and told her that I got them mini donuts at the convenience store yesterday for breakfast this morning – yelled for me to stop.  To NOT open that bag!  You see, the coconut cookies were in a sealed zippy sitting on top of the sealed zippy of durian cookies.  Despite the zippy barriers, the smell of the durian had infiltrated the coconut wafers, like tiny stinky soldiers on a recon mission.  So both zippies were then wrapped up in a spare Super One grocery bag and tied, headed for the dumpster.  Turkey got the guava ones instead.  We were going to hold onto them until Miss Amy had her friends over next to get their reactions, but it was just no longer worth it.  *sniff sniff*

The cookie won

First of all, I would like to thank my daughter for the laugh I got last night.  She was a great sport, and I’m still giggling this morning thanks to her and a cookie.

This weekend she and her brother went to visit their grandparents in Fort Worth.  I agreed to meet my ex-inlaws in Dallas to get some shopping done.  I needed to go to the big Vietnamese market for supplies, since the tiny import market here in Neverneverland, East Texas, is overpriced and half-empty.  One of the things the kids and I enjoy is the selection of different flavored wafer cookies, other than the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry commonly found in the local Walmart.  In the past, I had become quite addicted to banana wafer cookies, and sparked by a conversation on the 4th with my friends, felt the urge to gather as many flavors possible for sampling.

So in addition to the mango, peanut, coconut, and guava flavored wafer cookies, I picked up a package of durian flavored.  This is where I tell my readers I had never had a previous encounter with durian, only word-of-mouth anecdotes of the unbelievable odor and taste.  Such as this quote from Richard Sterling:

… its odor is best described as pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock. It can be smelled from yards away. Despite its great local popularity, the raw fruit is forbidden from some establishments such as hotels, subways and airports, including public transportation in Southeast Asia.

After dinner, Miss Amy came to me asking for dessert, specifically, if she could open the package of coconut wafer cookies.  I want to say she even saw the lightbulb over my head.  I asked if she wanted to try the durian ones, explaining to her some of the things I had heard about the fruit.  You should know, she’s never been one to shy away from trying new foods, and especially keen on taking a dare.  So we grabbed the package from the pantry.

For reference, I should tell you that i had brussel sprouts for dinner.  I can handle strong tastes and smells.  However, when we opened the package, I had to step back, gagging.

After the initial shock, and scooting back a few feet, I was almost ok.  Amy was intrigued.  Again, this was like nothing in the world we had ever smelled.

I was starting to think she couldn’t go through with it, so I upped the ante.  Instead of a straight dare, I bet her a dollar she couldn’t eat one.  A dollar, though we are in a recession, still buys a 13 year old a coke from the vending machine, so she was back in again.

After a moment or so of psyching herself up for the task at hand, she gathered the strength to take a nibble.

Her courage lasted only a moment more.

And in the end, the cookie won.

PMS Post 2

It seems my food posts were forming on a regular basis, so I decided just to call a spade a spade.  I had a doctor’s appointment this morning for bloodwork, since it’s been a loooong time since anyone has stabbed with me a needle for the purpose of subtraction instead of addition.  This meant no breakfast, no convenience store white chocolate capp, no orange koolaid to swallow the morning meds.  So last night was a bit of a binge for me, I’ll admit it.  After my chunky soup, since I’m still not up to a ton of chewing, I sought out the skim lacy swiss cheese to wrap around the shaved turkey I bought at the deli earlier.   And then I kept pacing back to the kitchen during commercials, even though nothing looked interesting.  I wasn’t hungry, but the thought of deprivation even though I’m not usually hungry when I first get up was sending me into national geographic mode, thinking I needed to bulk up for the lean months ahead.

The only test they ran there at the office was cholesterol, and if you’re interested, bad & triglycerides were normal.  Good cholesterol was low, but that tends to run in my family.  I was told to exercise more and eat more fiber.  I’ll be hearing about my blood count soon, but until then, I’ll pretend that’s normal too.  And I almost kissed the scale in the office.  I’ll attribute it to all the dental stuff I’ve been through this past month, but I’m down about nine pounds from my last visit. 

Good results, weight loss, deprivation, and hormones equal FAST FOOD DAY!  On the way back to the office I picked up an egg & cheese taquito and sweet tea from Whataburger, and then a few hours later, picked up Amy to take her to Sonic with me.  I forgot my zantac at the house, so I might be in tears a few hours from now after the regular chili cheese dog comes back to haunt me.  Amy and I shared a large order of cheesecake bites also.  Heredity be damned today! 

I feel better now.

(No french fries were harmed in the making of this post.)

Iron Chef America was the pits

I’ve mentioned a million reasons why my teeth are not as good as I would like them to be, but I would like to bring to light one that only a few people know about.  On Halloween a few years back, my boss and I ordered these yummy muffaletta sandwichs from Jason’s Deli there in Addison.  I was only a couple bites in when I came down chomping force on an olive pit, immediately splitting the bottom molar.  I guess we didn’t notice the crack in the top one since it wasn’t as obvious at the time. 

Monday, my dentist completed the top root canal, though not the crown yet.  Tuesday, instead of driving two hours one way to see the closest endodontist on our insurance plan to have them re-do the root canal on the tooth under it, my dentist here pulled it.  I’ve probably said it before, but I feel like I’ve been punched in the jaw.  The left side of my face is swollen and sore, and the right side is just plain sore from it being propped open.  The only semi-solid food I’ve had to eat the past day and a half were two Kroger brand butterscotch pudding cups, and they were soooo good.  I’ve been taking in a lot of liquids in un-soda form *pout* and not talking too much.  I know this will be over soon.  This is what I get for being without dental insurance for as long as I have. 

And what does this have to do with Iron Chef?  As Brody and I snuggled up to watch Sunday night after a long drive home, following a fight with my ex outside the Texas Burger in Buffalo and a point of a half an hour where the air conditioner froze up in the car, guess what the secret ingredient was? 

Olives. 

So what does a single mom do in her down time?

I know I’m fortunate.  My sister is raising three kids with little help, and doesn’t get a night off.  Matter of fact, due to my niece’s medical issues, she has to be on-hand during the day and work nights.  She’s on call 24/7.  I know I’m a lucky woman to have my children spend time with the other side of their family for a week here and there.

But after a couple days, I get bored.  No kidding.  I don’t do bars – loud noise, smoke, and anything past about one drink leave me irritable.  I also don’t look at my week alone as a time to spend money on myself, money that I would normally buy kid-staples with, since finances are tight anyway.  Those funds will roll into the extra required to feed a teenager during the summer.  And so far this week the pool has been out due to a handful of storms. 

So I’ve played Mario Party 8 for three evenings in a row.  I’ve beat Bowser twice now. 

I started reading Odd Mom Out by Jane Porter and tossed it across the room after 80 pages of being beat over the head by the fact that she likes motorcycles and her daughter wishes she was normal.  And that was only on Day 2 of the book  No way I would read another 300 plus pages of that dribble. 

So I started on Blood Orange by Drusilla Campbell instead.  We’ll see how that goes.

I went to Target to buy Archer Farms ginger beer.  Mmmm.

I took the very old flea collar off Sutton, since he’s been indoors for the past year after he came back from my ex’s house.  I’m telling you, after giving him a good scratching, I *own* him now.  It’s to the point where he’s been tempted to join me in the bathtub he loves me so much.

I’ve finally started watching Firefly – The Complete Series how many years since it’s been off the air?  Now I understand what the fuss was all about.  I’m quite impressed.

And I’m still eating soft foods.  So I set the big rice cooker to go this weekend, and have just been digging in my rice supply and adding fun things to it for dinner, such as Snoopy Furikake with little Snoopy heads!

Other than that, it’s been very, very quiet the past few days.

Random snippets

Good morning all.  I sit here, jaw sore from a root canal yesterday afternoon, contemplating taking a painkiller at work.  My boss knows; I think he thinks it would be funny to get me loopy at work, but I’m not at that point at the moment.  I have to go back in two weeks for them to set the crown, and in the meantime, find an endodontist that accepts our dental insurance to fix a previous root canal directly under the tooth that was worked on yesterday.  Not fun.  I can blame this on years of sleeping with my mouth open (due to my tonsils probably), maybe on the tongue ring that I haven’t put back in a while, my obsessive ice chomping, or probably a combination of all three. 

Amy is finishing up her last two half-days of the 7th grade, and then its onto a summer of laziness.  It will be interesting how active her social life has been, since we’ve moved.  She and her brother are going to Houston to visit their cousins next week, but other than that, I’m sure she will probably fit in a lot of group activities during my work day with her friends.  Brody’s preschool sent home their blankies and pillows to transition them into a real kindergarten day this summer.  I have to bring the book he made in class to scan it – it’s adorable.  It’s an “About Me,” book, with some cute pictures.

On the food front, I made more spring rolls last night using the method from Tableau Vivante.  They recommend instead of soaking the spring roll wrappers in warm water, instead, layer them between damp paper towels for about ten minutes prior to use.  I found this worked very well in keeping the wrappers intact – out of eight I made last night, only one bust through, and I think that was due to the sharpish shredded carrots. 

On the NM front, my mother called my Amy this weekend and left a message, since Amy isn’t answering her calls.  It was essentially, I’m still here, I love you, I should have called you sooner (?), kiss your brother for me.  I’m considering changing her phone number, since I pay the bill, and am still the mother.  While the message may seem innocuous to many people, with our history of threats and manipulation, I would like to restrict her contact with my children as going through me only.  That’s fair, no? 

I also made a decision recently.  I have been a part of a support board since I found out I was pregnant with my son in February, 2002.  The members have dwindled down, but it’s still a very active board.  However, one of the admins is now using this board as her narcissistic supply, in addition to a few other places online.  She has created a drama that seems so outrageous that I was finding myself angry each time I visited, angry that someone would think I/we would be so gullible, and angry for those believing her and offering her support and help.  I was taking it very personally, so I made the decision to break off my membership for good.  This board was a healthy source of support and entertainment for me off and on over the past six years, and now I’ve let go of that crutch as it was hurting me more than helping me.  I miss the routine, but I am kinda proud of myself for dropping that crutch.

Anyway, hope you all had a great weekend.