I volunteered to help with Drew’s Halloween party, and since someone else had signed up for paper products (damn!), I am bringing drinks. On Halloween, day of sugar and tooth decay.
I am a hardass about many things (see: TV, video games, computer time, chores) and drinks is on the list, at least for the boys. They drink milk or water except for Porter’s occasional four ounces of coffee in the morning. When there are special circumstances they’ll get soft drinks. This happens when I buy them out of the blue as a huge surprise and they freak out and think “Whoa! Mom DOES love us!”.
I also use carbonated beverages as an upper, when I need the boys to be especially hyper. For example, I got them all jacked up on Coke and Mountain Dew before the Maroon 5/ Counting Crows concert so they wouldn’t fall asleep and piss me off because geez, those tickets were not cheap. It totally worked and Drew was able to appreciate the bass, Finn marveled at the drum set-up, and Porter commented on everything and asked a thousand questions.
Anyway, I’ve purchased 21 waters to take to the class party. Bill says I’m a huge party pooper and I should wear a protective gear because the kids are likely to revolt. He says it’s a Halloween requirement that I ply them with a sugary soft drink or primary colored juice.
I can’t do it.
I told him they are lucky I didn’t buy V8.
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Here’s a picture of the guys in last year’s costumes. Drew didn’t look quite as pimpy once he ditched his Mac Daddy hat.
That may have been Finn’s last year to dress up– he seems unsure about this year, but I have a huge box of costumes in the attic and can make him into anything from a biker to a dancing girl in moments.
Yesterday I came home to find Porter skating in the driveway. He was wearing the tattoo sleeve, the mac daddy jacket, a necklace with a large peace sign dangling from it, and pants. He told me he was going as “a peaceful tattooed roller-blading guy who’s voting for Obama.”
He has certainly come a long way from his previous political beliefs. That’s the beauty of childhood; you can change your mind on a whim without anyone saying you’ve compromised your principles.
Finn has succeeded in making decent grades, particularly in his Advanced Algebra class. At the start of the school year we drew up a contract with him, setting forth our expectations for his grades. The agreement stipulated that if his total GPA was above a certain number, he would be entitled to a cell phone.
This was his first year of junior high, and he had to learn to juggle numerous activities. In addition to the core curriculum he had the advanced class and two electives, Band and Spanish. He also ran cross-country every afternoon and of course kept up his once a week drum lessons. I was looking through scrapbooks recently and realized he’s on his third set of drums and fifth year of lessons– he’s well on his way to being able to replace Charlie Watts when he gives out.
Here he is with his first set of drums:
Here he is about a year or so ago doing a gut-busting drum solo:
I was positive Finn would remain phoneless. Algebra proved to be a challenge, and it revealed weaknesses in his study habits. We enlisted the help of the MasterMinds tutoring service in a last ditch effort to shore up his grades, and I’ll admit that I was snobby about the idea of tutoring, having never been tutored myself. When we got to the headquarters, however, we discovered that everyone who is anyone algebraically was being tutored, and the waiting room was a prime social hour. Plus, Finn’s tutor was much better than I was at explaining the commutative property.
So he’s entitled to a phone, and this afternoon we’re heading to Verizon to get it.
While we’ve been adamantly opposed to any technology for the kids that would take their focus away from reading and playing snipers in the front yard, I’ll admit that it will make things much easier on me once Finn is able to reach me when a practice is over, or when he has caught a ride home.
Tomorrow, for example, is not only Halloween, but also Homecoming, and Finn plans to walk from school to the village with a friend to watch the parade, then join other friends for Halloween activities, and then head to the football game. I’ll need him to check in with me and let me know where he is and who he’s with. He’s experiencing a new level of freedom, and so am I.
I’m taking the opportunity to upgrade my phone as well. I have the free phone that comes with a Verizon account. I need a phone with a QWERTY keyboard. I mainly use my phone to talk, but now I’ll be doing a small bit of texting and I’d love to be able to check all my emails and moderate blog comments from the phone as well. It would also thrill me to be able to tweet from my phone.
I’m completely flummoxed when I stand before the array of phones at the Verizon store and I figured I’d turn to y’all instead. Do I need a Blackberry, even though I’ve made fun of Bill’s addiction to his for years? Would something else like the Dare or Voyager or ENV2 be better? I’m committed to Verizon so don’t go suggesting that I get an iPhone, lovely as that sounds.
You know I love to cook and regard the family dinner as a sacred time, although the combination of immature jokes (”Hey Mom- spell icup!”) and constant reminders (”Boys– use your napkins, not your shirts. Finn, don’t steal Porter’s milk. Get up and refill yours. I’m not raising thieves.”) results in the most chaotic part of our day. But I have high hopes that some day all of us will sit at the table and all elbows and napkins and condiments will be in their proper places, and we will have conversations that aren’t punctuated by audible farts, or center on jokes in which we are asked to name the word that starts with “f” and ends with “uck.” (Answer below for those of you who don’t have ten and twelve-year-olds.)++
I don’t see any end to our nightly Hearing on Who Gets Dessert, in which Bill sits as judge, each boy represents himself and makes an argument outlining the reasons he is entitled to Cookies N Cream ice cream, and I serve as adviser to all parties, reminding them of crucial arguments (”Tell him: Your Honor, a look at the evidence will make it clear that I have tasted each food on my plate and consumed seconds of pork.”)
I’ve been slammed at work lately and thus have been even more in need of easy recipes than usual. The last couple of weeks I turned to Simply Recipes to find some winners and I’ve become a devotee of the site. I heard Elise Bauer speak at BlogHer and recognized her beautiful site, but it wasn’t until Playgroupie raved about a Carnitas recipe that I really checked it out.
Here are several recipes that were hits with my family. Some, like the Carnitas, I prepared in the crock pot a day ahead. Most of the others were so easy that I did them the day of, prepping ingredients when I picked the boys up from school and cooking later. The Shrimp Fried Rice was so basic that I made the rice a day ahead so It could dry in the refrigerator, then left Bill and the boys to make it while I enjoyed a girls’ night out.
I’ve divided this into three weeks of menus to make it easier on you so that you can do all your shopping today or tomorrow for the week. I’ve also added two recipes of my own. It’s the last week to make Jack-O-Lantern Pie, which The Voice Of Reason and I have been making for years. It’s no great shakes from a culinary standpoint for my artichoke-loving boys, but it’s a tradition.
It’s officially freezing to me here, now that the temperatures are in the high 50’s and low 60’s. If I were to move as far north as Nashville I might well die of hypothermia. Bill requested a soup or stew, so I’ll be making Sausage and Lentil Stew which is a snap and healthy as well. It’s easy to freeze or take to work for a quick lunch.
Feel free to mix or match these menus; I’ve just tried to provide a good mix of chicken, meat and fish each week. (The Simply Recipes dishes are marked with a *):
WEEK 1:
Jack-O-Lantern Pie (from the post Food, Glorious Food, which includes pictures of the pie and, for reasons I have forgotten, Brad Pitt.)
*Dad’s Fish Stew (the clam juice is above the tuna at the grocery. For economic reasons I used catfish and tilapia which were cheaper fish. Be sure and serve with bread to sop up the juice. )
*Sweet & Sour Chicken (super-easy, and don’t freak out when you mix up the sauce that seems odd and ends up perfect. Be sure and read her tips about using a very hot pan.)
*Pot Roast (Of course everyone already has a pot roast recipe but sometimes it’s nice to try a new one. I did it in the crock pot.)
WEEK 2:
Sausage and Lentil Stew (recipe below)
*Chipotle Meatballs (Remember how my Beef Balls were such a hit? This is a great update. Sorry that you have to skim through the details of the family doorknob/fart game to get to the actual recipe.)
*Pasta With Tuna, Arugula & Hot Pepper (I know– this sounds weird! But it’s fabulous, I’m guessing because you use fresh garlic and oil-packed tuna. I used spinach instead of arugula.)
*Chicken Marinara (to make this even easier you could buy a jar of Newman’s marinara sauce and use that instead of making the tomato sauce!)
WEEK 3:
*Carnitas (these are fancy tacos. The boys prefer flour tortillas, so I used some corn and some flour. Publix has black beans that are seasoned, so we drain those and add them to the taco. Don’t eliminate the step where you put the meat in the oven to crisp it up. Delish.)
Remember - don’t freak out if you can’t find everything. You can use an onion instead of shallots or dump in a can of diced tomatoes if those at your market aren’t beautiful, as I did. The point is to end up with edible food.
* Shrimp Fried Rice (the boys did not leave me any to sample. That speaks volumes.)
Oops. I am missing a recipe here. You can check out my recipe posts by clicking on the “Let’s Eat” category in the left sidebar. Or to make it easier, I’ve compiled several right here:
Slice sausage into 1/2 inch slices and cut each in half. Brown lightly in a skillet. Add leeks, garlic, and cook 3 mins. Add lentils and broth and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer 30 mins. Stir in thyme and remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer 15 mins or until lentils are tender. 6 cups.
(I thought I got this from Cooking Light, which I frequently use, but I’ve searched all over their web site and cannot find it.)
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Answer to immature joke:
++ FIRETRUCK
(and you did spell “icup” out loud, didn’t you?)
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My mom died three years ago today. I’m holding it together okay so far. This is a picture of her in 1976, when she was 35 years old. This is the exact way I remember my mom looking when I was growing up.
Drew made up a song several years ago that has just one lyric:
Squirmy Squirmy Squirmy, He’s my favorite wormy!
He marched around the house singing it in one note, then a higher note, and so forth until he was screeching and I locked him out of the house.
Last week two thousand worms came to my house on purpose, and I named the first one Squirmy. Now we’re singing the song again, but very quietly, so as not to hurt the other wigglers’ feelings.
This all came about because a friend who’s quite earth friendly, and has enough devotion to the cause to drive a car powered by the grease discarded by various Los Angeles restaurants* told me that she composted inside and used worms to speed up the process, in a method known as vermicomposting.
Up until then I’d been a composting wannabe, and went to far as to keep a large pot outside into which I threw all my fruit, peels, coffee filters and some grass clippings, but I never turned it, and it attracted flies that zoomed into the house and ended up in my bathroom at night, zigging and zagging from one side of my bathroom to the other, delirious with the light. I kept a swatter under Bill’s sink and regularly murdered three or four flies a night, and I knew there had to be a better way to achieve a loamy humus to spread on my herbs.
The next day I ordered a composting kit (you can make one, but if I was in such dire need of speedy composting, I damn sure didn’t need to waste time crafting a worm bin). The worm hutch came before the worms so that I could get it all prepared for their arrival, and Porter and I went straight to work. We put a couple of sheets of damp newspaper on the bottom of the box, and then covered it with shredded paper mixed with coir and the decayed matter from under a bush. Apparently this is the equivalent of a decadent spa environment for worms.
We finished it off by putting a handful of food scraps in one corner and then waited for our new housemates to arrive.
You’ll recall that when the local high-schooler annihilated my mailbox I was pissed not only because of the destruction but also because I was awaiting a package I was sure our crotchety mail lady wouldn’t deliver unless we had the proper postal receptacle in place.
As it turned out, having the mailbox replaced so quickly wasn’t all that helpful. The lady shoved the box o’ worms into our mailbox with such force that I was sure I’d open it to find stressed out red wigglers (a common malady of those who’ve been shipped long distances) or worse, worm custard. The prospect of a clump of deceased invertebrates drove me into such a fury that I photographed the box from every angle so the post office would not charge me to re-ship live worms, but I’m sparing you and posting only two views of the damage.
(You know that I have a bad relationship with the post office in general, don’t you? And BTW– I haven’t yet located the mailbox marauder. I’m beginning to lose my faith in the blogosphere. The point of filming my tragedy (other than amusement) was to snuff out the MBHS teen who drives a Toyota Tundra or similar dark truck– with brush guards– and get an apology and restitution for the damage. So far, I’ve gotten nada. But I digress.)
Ladies’ fine shoes and purses sometimes come encased in a thick papery materiel, and my worms were so special that they were packaged in the exact same fabric. It was an elegant touch, Happy D Ranch!
When I opened the bag, instead of a shiny Coach purse I found the equivalent of twenty plastic tubs of bait, (all wiggling happily as far as I could tell) with nary a squashed worm to be seen.
From there, all I had to do was spread the worms carefully over their new habitat, cover then lovingly with a layer of shredded newspaper, and let them adjust to their surroundings.
Late that night, after I was already tucked in bed, I remembered that I had failed to leave a lamp on in the ping-pong room for the worms. That’s an essential part of the process which encourages them to burrow far down into the bin.
“Honey, would you mind getting me some more ice water?” I asked Bill.
“Sure.” He got up, and then I added, “Hey, while you’re up, will you turn the lamp on in the ping-pong room?”
“This better not be about the worms,” he muttered. He’s skeptical of the whole idea, but just wait until he sees my fertile soil next spring.
“It’ll just make me feel safer, what with the burglaries and mailbox bashings we’ve had around here lately.” That was true. I’d feel lots better if I knew that 2000 worms were tunneling down, away from the light, not seeking escape.
It’s been several weeks now and the worms are doing well. They’re growing big and healthy and I couldn’t be more proud! I think I’m a grandmother, too, but it’s hard to be sure.
I’ve fed them coffee grounds and filters, shredded used paper towels and junk mail, crushed egg shells, fruit and vegetable peels, dryer lint, and a host of other crazy items you can read about on the Happy D web site. The other night I had some mushrooms and a banana that had gone bad, so I pureed them in the Cusinart and plopped it in the bin. There’s a reason you don’t see “Paillard of Chicken Infused With Mushroom Banana Coulis” on menus and that’s because it’s a rancid combination for humans, but Squirmy and his friends are digging it.
That’s just me and Squirmy having a little fun!
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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: My Mac Daddy And Me (Yep– the inappropriate Halloween costume issues pop up with boys, too!)
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Sarah wears rocking clothes and talks about going grease hunting in L.A. Jimmy Kimmel should have her back to talk about worms!
Sometimes things happen to you and you contact the proper authorities but they don’t do anything, and that’s when you have to handle the matter yourself.
Of course, when we woke up last weekend and found our mailbox crushed in a manner that appeared to be more purposeful than accidental, we chalked it up to rowdy teens, hoped someone would step forward, and went ahead and replaced the wooden beam and box.*
The next day I saw a mailbox down the street destroyed in precisely the same way, and it turns out that a neighbor witnessed the demise of her mailbox and called the police with a description of the vehicle. (A dark Toyota Tundra type truck with brush guards). I don’t know what a brush guard is, but apparently that narrows down the list of suspects quite a bit. I contacted the police as well, and they promised to get back to me, but as of now I’ve not heard from them or the perpetrator. I’m a bit ticky, as I get the feeling they know exactly who it is. I’d appreciate an apology and reimbursement for the new mailbox and its installation.
In the interim, however, Porter and I used the occasion to film CSI:Birmingham, which is obviously a takeoff on CSI:Miami. It’s about 3.5 minutes long (not 12, like the screen says– apparently I have a long tail on the end of the movie that I can’t delete!)
and sums up the case pretty well, except for the Lego.
Enjoy, and I’ll keep you posted on the investigation:
CSI:Birmingham– Mailbox Mayhem from anneglamore on Vimeo.
*I replaced the box quickly because I was expecting two pounds of worms to be shipped to me via the Postal Service, and our mail lady dislikes us. I was sure she wouldn’t get out of her truck and walk the worms to our porch; she’d just return them. I need those worms because I’m starting a vermicomposting project, which promises to be great fun as well as extremely bloggable.
**************** One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Looks Like I Won
I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table.
If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me.
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In "It's Natural" I will tell your kids about the birds and the bees, but YOU must stay in the room and perform the coital finger movements.
