Little Woman Interrupted

This is a scholarly discourse on Pie and where the hell I've been.

I'm still alive and luxuriating from the intermission of blogging and everything else that doesn't absolutely require a piece of me. That doesn't include the husband or the three year old. They get theirs, believe me...

I remember Me Time prior to being a Mom. It was called every-second-of-the-day and I took it for granted because the "Me Pie" was more than enough. There was also more money to play with as I recall, but I digress.

MMA was afraid you might think he did something sinister to prevent me from blogging this long and has beseeched me to resume, "the sooner the better," he said. With an overly needy child in command of the house (who somehow manages to stay up every night until just minutes before we collapse in bed) it seems my husband learns most of what he knows about my day the same way you do. And he misses my alter ego online.

Well, for nigh a month now (and can you tell I'm fresh off a corset book?) I've been too tired to do much more than throw an occasional load of clothes in the wash and cook a simple meal. I find myself moodier than ever and reclusive. I just want to sleep and watch Dancing with the B-listers and reality show Stars and eat popcorn followed by a bowl of Blue Bell ice cream. (And shamefully, I've even been too tired for tricks and more than once paid full price when I knew a deal was within arms reach if I had, but a little more effort to put forth...) This is me, flailing. And hoarding my piece of the pie.

And watching my belly "bloom" (as my British friend puts it) and my face break out doesn't help me feel particularly outgoing. But OK, breaks over, I'm ready to shine again.

I will share my good news with you tomorrow...(feigned sigh) if I can manage the strength...

I will say this: sometimes its good to indulge one's self, but in general, with pie, sharing is better. And the more the merrier.

This is How I Roll...

Last Friday, MMA sprung his Lent intent on me last minute. No beer and no meat on Fridays until Easter.

Ergggh!

I might have balked a little bit...I can't remember. Shopping was done for the week and did not include the bare necessities to make a proper meatless happy hour.

But I love how Superstar rises to a challenge. (And on reevaluation, decides to use her domestic powers of influence for good and not evil.)

Sushi came to mind. Hello, Chirashi. Just gimme a bowl of perfectly sticky rice topped with an assortment of sashimi, maybe a little pink ginger flower on the side. That's my kind of sacrifice!

Alas, we live in a suburb that is home to nineteen Mexican restaurants in spitting distance, but no safe-to-eat-raw-fish. And I wasn't about to drive 20 miles to Central Market with a feverish preschooler last Friday.

So I thought I'd surprise MMA with with (more doable) shrimp and California rolls. I've been doing test batches of sushi rice lately and decided to take my newly-honed skills to the next level and build something.

I give you, Superstar Sushi Rice
(This size batch makes enough for 4 nice-size rolls)

1 cup sushi (short grain) rice
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
1/8 cup sugar
1 and 1/3 cups water

First, rinse the sushi rice until the water runs clear. Then drain the rice in a colander for 30 minutes to an hour. Next, add the water, sugar and rice to a pot and bring to a boil over medium high heat. Once it boils, turn it way down and simmer, covered, for 14 minutes. No peeking. After that, remove it from the heat, put a towel under the lid and let it sit for more 20 minutes. This helps it reach the proper stickiness. After 20 minutes, transfer it to a bowl and fold in the vinegar.

I made our California rolls while the rice was warm and I found the nori to be easy to handle that way. There are lots of rolling techniques online, but there is nothing difficult about it. You just spread the rice, line up your fillings, roll it up and enjoy. I have two minor tips: I wrapped my bamboo mat in plastic wrap to keep it clean (but I think you can easily make do without a mat.) And, a little bowl of water to wet your hands keeps the rice from sticking to you.

My fillings included shrimp, crab (actually it was "krab" but like I said) avocado, julienne carrots and cucumber, and of course, wasabi. Oh, I also toasted up sesame seeds to sprinkle on top. My rolls were so big and fat, two were a meal! (And MMA now finally realizes the extent to which he married up.)


My mind is bubbling over with promise of so many combinations. Like Panko fried calamari and sweet potato. Or veggie rolls with plum sauce. Or spicy fried tofu, cucumber and green onion. What about a Greek inspired roll with humus and olives? I'm still thinking locally available ingredients, mind you.

I should have attempted rolls much sooner. The most complicated thing was getting the rice right and now you have my test-kitchen method. Happy Friday!

Demolition Day

Today we are actually getting started on a remodeling job that has been in the pipeline for five years; since the day we bought our house! We are busting down walls and creating an upstairs game room out of an extra bedroom. (And by "we" I mean Javier and his work crew pictured below.)

There are four bedrooms in this house. There is also downstairs office with a proper closet and a full bath. That's too many places to sleep and not enough places to flop around and watch TV or spread out toys. Although Only Child doesn't like to be by himself in the downstairs office, (now serving as the playroom and the first thing you see when you walk into our house) we imagine one day he will want a place of his own to entertain while the grown ups occupy the downstairs.

The new game room was originally used by MMA as a workout room. He put huge mirrors on all the walls, equipped the room with free weights and machines and installed a nice stereo. Even I thought it was pretty sweet. Sadly, all that was too noisy after the baby came along, so the man cave had to move to the garage. Where, he moans, the Christmas decorations are edging him out for space. (Don't feel too bad for him, he's got big plans for the garage BUT, one project at a time.)

Did I mention that we are not DIYers? We're not. He doesn't like to spend his weekends doing home improvement projects...I don't like house work. We'd rather pay someone to do these "chores." (Hence, this project was a dream for five years...and the house can always use a good once over.)

What catalyst put this project into motion, you wonder? I'm glad you asked.

Hurricane Ike caved in a ceiling in an unused bedroom and the carpet was trashed. Next door, Only Child's bedroom had water damage and the carpet needs to be replaced. We've spent the last several months getting the roof, then the interior damage repaired and finally we're ready to replace carpet. We decided to replace all the upstairs carpet. But we didn't want to replace the carpet knowing that we'd have to replace or patch it once the game room was build out. So, we decided to do the game room before the carpet.

Then, my uncle emailed that he would like to pay us a visit from France. This is my father's brother. When I was fourteen, I spent a month with my Uncle and his wife traveling from from his home in Grenoble, France to Budapest, Hungary where my father was from. It was an adventure I will never forget, and during that trip, he promised to be there on the day I got married. Well, he kept that promise and gave me away at my wedding; Dad had died a of cancer a few years before.

Can't-very-well have an honored guest staying in a guest room with no carpet...So, it was the perfect storm to push this career procrastinator (two of us) to FINALLY pull the trigger.

I'm so glad it worked out this way. Talk about Win-Win And now you're privy to more than you ever cared to know about our family and how we live and the house that we are slowly growing into.


Note: During demolition Javier discovered a gas line running down the former closet about where the guy's knee is. So they had to rip into the sub floor to reroute it back through the wall. And, all that junk is still sitting there from when the last construction crew had to get into the attic and replace the insulation that got wet. I'm torn between putting the junk back in the attic and putting it on the curb. (Huge Christmas tree up for grabs.)

Sick Days are...

Sick Days are all about learning things you didn't know about your family.

Our little one takes to any kind of music that he's exposed to and his recall is amazing. His repertoire includes all the classics.

It's not unusual to catch him singing bits of Beetles songs, Elton John, or Frank Sinatra. You'd crack up if you heard him singing Pancho and Lefty. At night we make up lyrics to Brahms lullaby to sing about what we did that day. Well, I guess he's got an ear for contemporary music, too...

Only Child woke up with a little fever, so we ditched school and decided to lay in bed all day in PJs. But that was only fun until about noon, and by then we had read his new Big Backyard magazine cover to cover, watched plenty of TV and played with all the upstairs toys.

We were getting hungry and Tasty Time with Ze Fronk gave us an idea to make popcorn with nuts and dried fruit. We have a rule in our house: if you're sick, you get to eat whatever you want.

The Tylenol was kicking in and things were looking up. Being silly in the kitchen, one thing led to another, and I busted out with a few lines from Blackeyed Peas "My Humps."

Only Child stops me and says wide-eyed, "Mommy, that's the song the clown was singing when Daddy took me to the mall. I like that song."

I was puzzled, yes, but we were having fun, so I didn't dwell. He already knew the "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk" part. Which freed me up to be just Fergie. Minus the vulgar jeans, with slightly tweaked lyrics, but I was feeling it, sure.

I was playing to the BEST audience. Lot's of giggles and applause.

A little later, after we ate our snack he says, "Mommy, sing that song again that I like........and this time wiggle."

["Say what!?"]


I can't wait for Daddy to get home to explain the clown and the mall and what a three year old knows about wiggling.

Devil inside, Devil Inside

Did you see that sweet little cherub-faced child I spoke of last time? His head started spinning on me yesterday. It was frightful. We had our first big out-of-control tantrum and by the end we were both crying.

(No, I mean like a, "Call in the Doctor" kinda ordeal.)

We had a busy day on Sunday, so we got an early start. I guess his exhaustion had been mounting over the weekend because naps were missed and he had some late nights with dad while mommy was out with friends Friday and Saturday. Rare occasion, trust me.

So he fell asleep in the car on the way home. It was late afternoon and things got crazy in the blink of an eye. He was such a wild animal to get out, I had to enlist the help of MMA, because I feared for my safety, and his. MMA had him in the football hold and I remember seeing little feet and arms going in every direction. 35 pounds of flailing boy is a force to be reckoned with.

We put him to bed where he proceeded to scream, jump and claw like a trapped fox. I am sure the neighbors must have thought we were skinning him. His behaviour was scary and I had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

So he had the meltdown of his life while running around his room pushing over furniture and toys, pounding on his chest...he even peed in his pants! It was surreal, creepy, manic. I think I saw some foam forming at the corners of his lips.

Realizing that the 200 lb dresser is not bolted to the wall, I was afraid to leave him.

These are things he actually said...

"Mommy, what's happening to me?"

["You have been possessed by an evil-spirit, my child."]

Mommy, I am scared! Make it stop!

["I'm not you're mommy, I'm Anthony's mommy. Where is he?"]

"Why am I shaking like this? It won't stop."

[Will the sign of the cross burn him? "The power of Christ compels you."]

"Help me Mommy! Make it stop!"

I jest now, but the tears were welling up at the sight of my little guy taken over by this horrible monster.

Finally, in exhaustion, he gave in to being changed and rocked and the slow deep breathing came over him. Then, like he had was waking from a bad dream, he turned to me and said, "Mommy, what was that?" And a few moments later he was asking for food and smiling that sweet smile all over again.

Holy Hell, ladies, what was that??? Experienced moms of the world, don't forsake me now.

Sweet Nothings

With all the kid sadness going around lately, I just want to pinch my little guy's cheeks to red and plant kisses all over his round little face. Which is not so round anymore since the baby fat rolls are gone. But, he won't let me hold or cuddle him anymore. On rare occasion that I manage to land a few smooches, he wipes them off and tells me that I am not to give him any more kisses.


"We'll, see big talker. Not such a big boy when you wake up in the middle of the night crying for mommy, are ya!?" (Actually, that doesn't happen anymore, either.)

I just have to face it, the baby is all-grown up. He's big enough to take advantage of our weakness for his persuasive charms. Like when he needs help climbing a tree -- a new passion-- he'll play the "I need help 'cuz I'm just a little guy" card. Loves to call himself "little guy." (Is manipulation instinctive for pretty people?)

My big/little guy has a hairdresser and her name is Jessica. She's this pretty little thing that gives her FULL attention and laughs at his jokes. Its a big day at our house when he gets a haircut. I can twist his arm to get whatever I need, lest I threaten to cancel. This last time, I assumed my usual position next to him in the chair. And he told me "Mommy, just go sit over there," pointing, no, dismissing me to the waiting area. (Do all men instinctively gravitate to eye-candy?)

Little Guy is a nude monger. He strips himself completely bare at nap time and calls himself "Naked Baby." He then proceeds to make requests in the third person. "Naked Baby needs his blanky. Naked baby needs you to close the closet door. Tell Naked Baby a story about when you were little." But don't you call him a baby or you'll get told. (OK, I get that being naked is fun when there's no shame in your game.)

I've been down lately about my house still not being put back together from Ike. There are still a few projects that stand between "complete" and where we are now. And there have been days that I can't remember taking the time to play or laugh with my boy. Some days are a blur of harsh words, timeouts, and spankings.

I must remind myself that I can't get today back or whatever day it was that I moped around my house too spent to do anything productive. We're all healthy. MMA is gainfully employed. I adore those two. And I am just really thankful for everyday things like fussing over my healthy, egotistical little boy.

(Who just asked "Mom, could you go get some goodies from the goody bowl and share 'em with your little one." How can I say "no" to that?) Maybe I can trade him some candy for the option to run my fingers through his curls.

A Tale of Two Chips: Mommy Cuts, Part II

"Denny's has the Best Nachos ever!" M&M said at Girly Stuff's Superbowl Party as I helped myself to seconds and thirds of all the cheesilicious dips that she had brought.

My ears instantly perked up.

"Really?...Denny's?...I would never think to order Nachos from Denny's..." I think I said.



So today after church, MMA decided we should go, (where else?) to Denny's for breakfast since we rushed out of the house without eating much.

Since it was technically after noon when we sat down, and since I never order anything but breakfast at Denny's, I decided to live a little. M&M knows her way around a tortilla chip, so I figured I was in for a treat. Besides, one of my favorite foods of all time are ballpark nachos and I hardly ever make it to an Astros game anymore.

Oh, I like the kind of nachos you can get anywhere with the processed cheese food, canned jalapenos and round chips in a plastic tray. But if I'm at Minute Maid Park, I am magnetically and inexplicably pulled to the deluxe nachos every time. The deluxe start out like regular nachos, but then they are slathered in chili taco meat, sour cream, salsa and served with a spork. The first few bites are heavenly, but from there, the whole experience goes downhill, fast. I should know better by this stage in life...

My husband forced a half smile in my direction as I dove in. He was trying not to judge my choice. I did not care, anyway. The monster mound in front of me was my muse for the moment. Huge, sloppy, cheesy and just greasy enough, Denny's nachos did not disappoint!

I ate about half the plate when the urge to run to the bathroom started to kick in. That was my cue to stop eating. The mind was willing but the flesh was weak. I told MMA to go pay and don't look back. I thought being left alone at the table and pretending to myself that he would drive off without me would be the only way I could pull myself away before things turned........ugly.

He said gently, "No, I'm not in any hurry."

Unspoken expression runs so deep between long-term partners. I looked at the half-devoured mess on my plate and back at the one who sat across from me. A man who has seen me at my best, at my worst and like today in chili-stained weakness. I looked at him grateful to be loved in this condition.

"Why did I order these?" I asked as the churning in my stomach became audible.

"You love to hate yourself," he answered, without a hint of judgement. He just said what was, at that table in Denny's today.

I began to nod in agreement as he brought to my attention that what I was actually eating, were Minute Maid Deluxe Nachos.

"Gasp!" The room was spinning as I started checking off familiar ingredients in my head. Twice the portion. Half the price. But these were the very same nachos made famous by Aramark. They love me and they leave me...burning, every time.

They found me because I couldn't come to them. If distance makes the heart grow fonder, maybe their new-found accessibility (right in my own backyard) will cure me of this tormenting affair. One thing is for sure, we can't go on like this.

Excuse me, (pant, pant) I need to take care of some private business!