Cut Your Time in the Kitchen!

The last few nights we've had something going on and of course those are the days Sam has chosen to get on a little nap "schedule" ... meaning, he sleeps around 4-6 or so, which runs into dinner-making time and activities, so I end up either making dinner with him over my shoulder (yes, I hold him for naps, still ... sue me!). Or we have whatever we can find. Or Joel makes something easy. The third option is awesome because Joel gets to feel helpful and IS very helpful and can prepare boxed au gratin potatoes and put them in the oven or cook Spam on the stove and then peel oranges for our "veggie."

Anyway, this is driving me nuts and I'm DONE! So I've bought the stuff to make lots of meals so I will always have something to thaw in the morning (in the oven) and then if Sam is asleep on me I can just ask Joel to turn on the oven! So simple! Check out my article at North Texas Kids here about this topic ... I have other things I really want to try to cut my time in the kitchen!

But watch who you ask to do the meal swap, readers, because it didn't work out too well for me. I could be funny here, but I don't want to offend the few friends I have left. Let's just say some of them eat in a healthier manner than I myself do. And that some of the things they requested be left out of their meals I have never heard of. Some of them need double batches of food and some of them need half batches. I'll save the funnies for my memoir and then I can buy my offended friends an apology Starbuck's coffee with my book money and it will all be good. Let's just say there ain't gonna be no meal swap happening anytime soon. But try my other ideas and let me know how they work out for you!

My Kids Are Named After Music Stuff

Sometimes in the night I just can't sleep. I think it's because of all the nights I was woken up every two hours like clockwork over the years. I don't know what to do with a 2-year-old who sleeps pretty soundly through the night next to me and a 4-year-old who sleeps like a log. The others sleep great, too, since Joel's sleep problems have disappeared!

Anway, when I can't sleep I pray and think. The other night I was thinking about how much I've always loved music. Then I was thinking about my kids' names. Here's what I came up with how I subliminally named my kids:

Joel was named after Billy Joel, a great singer. He was married to Christie Brinkley, and when I was like 8 years old a boy told me I looked like her.

Michael was named after George Michael, who I was in love with before I figured out he was gay.

Callie was named after California Dreamin', a great song I've always loved. Chyna Phillips is the daughter of Michelle Phillips, and Chyna's song Hold On got me through my first marriage.

Eva is named after Little Eva because I love the song Locomotion.

Sam is named after Sailor Sam in the Paul McCartney and Wings song Band on the Run.

Freaky, right?!

Do You Ever ...

... look at a pair of pants and think, "Those are for a real fatty and would NEVER fit me!"?

Then you try them on and they fit. Maybe they are even a little tight.

I HATE that! I also hate when I accidentally put on something of my husband's and it FITS.

Women have it hard, let me tell you. Go easy on us (I'm saying this because I estimate my demographic is 50% male reading this little ole blog ... the guys want to know what I have to say because I'm like a Female Representative ... HAHAHAHA!!! Now, that is a sad, sad thought).

How was your MLK, Jr. holiday yesterday? Did you have to work anyway or did you sit around on your big ole butt? I never realized that part of his speech was about Catholics and Protestants living together peacefully. Maybe I'm an idealist, but I think the black thing and the religion thing are better since he died. Not a ton better, but better still. Some of my best friends are black. And Protestant. But not at the same time. I'm going to shut up now.

Daddy, What's a Joint?

The other night at dinner Michael had to finish his Explode the Code, which is a workbook that combines spelling, grammar and all that English jazz. He asked Aron what a joint is.

Aron told him it's like a bend in something, like where your elbow is or your knee or your hip.

Then he said, "and" ...

And I thought he was going to say something else, so I said, "Michael, let me tell you about my childhood and the definition of joint."

But no, Aron told him it's like a joint checking account.

I could not resist and had to give him the THIRD definition of a joint so he is not that socially awkward homeschooler we all hear about. I told him it's a marijuana cigarette. They vaguely know what that is, only because every now and then when we are out they hear me exclaim,

"I smell pot! I'd know pot anwhere! I've never been high. I wish I could get high because I would be less high-strung, but it's illegal and I am too attached to you guys, so I'm not getting high. Anyway. How 'bout those Chiefs?"

The Poopie Doula

Have you ever had to be a Poopie Doula for your kid?

FYI: a doula is a labor support person.

One time a friend of mine asked her insurance company if they covered doulas and had to explain what one was, using the above definition. The person goes, "Like a union representative?"

No, dummy, the doula is the person who gives the doctor the stink-eye when the in-pain mom can't do it and the dad is too overwhelmed do it.

Anyway, rarely, but often enough, I have to be the poopie doula for a kid o' mine. It goes like this:

Kid: Mommy, my poop won't come out. It's stuck.

Me: PUUUUUUUUUUSH!

Kid: I'm pushing [panicking] and it won't come out!

Me: I can see the top of the poop's head. It wants to come out, be named and be flushed. Just sit for a moment anad gather your strength, honey, and then PUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!

I'm sure you can conclude that the poop comes out just fine. Thanks to me, the Poopie Doula.