Chopped Junior in ‘da house, aka the evening I retired from the kitchen for about an hour

It’s no big secret that thing 2 and sometimes thing 1 whine about what I serve for dinner. It may have something to do with the fact that I try to plan an array of varied (true) and healthy (not quite as true) meals since I think eating the same thing night after night is tedious. I mean… really… who can eat chicken nuggets every frickin’ night? Is it even chicken? Their whining might have more to do with the fact that thing 2 has a very particular palate (true), and thing 1 just likes to complain a lot (you bet your ass true).

A couple of nights ago… they staged a revolt. They insisted they wanted to make their own dinners that evening. I believe Nate phrased it something to the effect of my working too hard and needing a night off (not really true since I would still have to slave over a hot stove for the hubs, Sweet Pea and I). Having recently discovered the goodness of soy sauce, Matt was perfectly honest that he wanted to make something with lots of it that night. At any rate, I decided not to argue and let them figure (f***?) it out themselves.

pizza

Above is what thing 1 came up with. Not how I would make pizza bagels, but then again I would never blasphemize a bagel by using cut-up hot-dogs as a substitute for pepperoni. Yet overall… not too shabby. Then again, he’s 12. He already nukes his own Chef Boyardee and make his own sandwiches. Oh, and occasionally brushes his own teeth and cleans his own room, but that’s another story. (I did say occasionally, right?) He even cleaned up the tomato sauce he dribbled in several places with his fingers and his tongue.

Number 2’s dinner: Well… it was not quite as palatable. He also began with mini-bagels. Unfortunately, he had to improvise at the eleventh hour when he ran out of an ingredient because Sandy ate it. For those of you who only know me through this blog, Sandy is our 5-month-old hound/retriever puppy. These actions landed Sandy Lou-Hoo in the dog-house.

Sandy

Bad Thing 4!

Having only half a mini-bagel and needing a top to his “sandwich,” he settled on a hamburger bun. Somewhat logical, I’ll give him that. But inside his **creation**, it was (cue Ted Allen) “Chefs, please open your baskets:”

  • Hot dog slices
  • Leftover white rice
  • Shredded mozzarella cheese
  • Soy sauce

OMG, his disgusting creation is below. I just vomited in my mouth a little adding that picture and remembering that night. And although it took them about 45 minutes to concoct their creations compared to the 20 minutes it took me to prepare a nutritious (not true … insert serious snark) meal to the rest of us, thing 1 and thing 2 ate their dinners. And never complained once. And in our house, 15 minutes of whine-free dining is gold.

WTF

I Can’t Even…

 

 

Sometimes you CAN handle the truth: It’s just too gross … and depressing.

My two-year-old is in an “I’ll follow you everywhere, mommy” stage. It’s not separation anxiety: She’s perfectly happy to run off and not even wave good-bye to me at pre-preschool drop-off. It’s more the, “If we’re in the same house, it’s not good enough that I can hear you” stage. She wants to see my eyes at all time to make sure I’m paying attention to her, like when she’s picking her nose, adopting my Elaine-like dance moves, or just being her sweet little self.

Which is why it was not surprising when she followed me — having just finished a cup of my husband’s highly-leaded coffee — when I needed to see a man about a wallaby this morning. (Confused? Haven’t watched Finding Nemo three-hundred-and-one times? Then see my previous work of literary genius:
http://mom2mandn.com/2014/04/30/everybody-poops-sometime-you-know-that-everybody-poops-cue-r-e-m-background-music/ .)

bathroom

What WAS surprising was that my usually unintelligible two-year-old followed me and then shrieked, clear as day “What is that awful smell mommy?” Yeah… like hers smell like roses. Not.

The Truth No One Tells You About Children #10606: You will never use the bathroom in peace again without a toddler present in the already small loo, a small child standing right outside the door screaming for milk, or a teenager demanding undeserved money and car keys. You will never use the bathroom in peace again unless 1) you save all your wallabies for while the children are in grammar school, 2) they are out wasting all your hard-earned money at a $25,000/year college getting a liberal arts degree, or 3) they are, again, wasting all your money in the rent-free apartment you set them up in at age eighteen (bribing them to move out so you could, once again, relive your child-free days by using the bathroom in peace and perhaps even have uninterrupted sex if your equipment is still working by then).

See… I can do it too, Jim Gaffigan! Please, somebody give me a book deal!

Sleepeating: Part II

Yeah… yeah… yeah… Haven’t published anything in ages: I know. Maybe it’s because my last totally stellar entry on Intergalactic Parenting last year only got a few likes here and on Facebook. C’mon people: I have feelings too! **sniff** **sniff**

Anyhoo, guess who’s back? Back again. Amy’s back… yet again. I had something I just had to share. Amy’s completely loyal followers — like, all 25 of them — will surely remember the fantabulous entry about Matt’s adventures in sleep-eating. Don’t remember? Allow me to refresh that pre-Alzheimer’s brain of yours:

http://mom2mandn.com/2012/02/11/sleepeating-a-photo-montage/

Yeah… I know… that was a great entry, right?

Well it pleases me to no end to let you know we have another sleep-eater in the family: Sweet Pea. And she looks just as sweet sleep-eating as the Mattie-Monster. Let me show you:

In the jungle, belly totally sated from Skyline Chili Dip, the lion sleeps tonight.

In the jungle, belly totally sated from Skyline Chili Dip, the lion sleeps tonight.

Okay… so it might totally also be the direct result of both refusing to nap today and spending an hour or so running around outside with her brothers and some friends. Either way, this momma is shedding tears of pride that another of the O’Brien clan not only appreciates the world’s best chili, but also is skilled enough to use her time that efficiently that she can both eat and sleep at the same time.

She truly is a gifted child (and she takes after her mother).

This blog entry to be continued when I have more pictures of my daughter’s skill to share. She hasn’t been on this planet as long as Matt but I’m confident she’ll be able to give him a run for his money.

Intergalactic Parenting

We have owned the book, Darth Vader and Son, by Jeffrey Brown, for quite some time now. Pretty sure it was a gift for the hubs from some other poor sap of a dad in the know. Not sure why it took a frigid, cold, boring weekend for me to finally glance through it: Maybe because it’s Vader and Son instead of Padme and the Padawans. At any rate, once I finally perused of the pictures, a couple of them almost made me wet my pants. See, if Vader raised Luke, it would actually be quiet similar to my trials and tribulations in raising Nate-O, Mattie Monster and Sweet Pea. Parenting is parenting, whether it’s the 21st century here on Earth, or Yoda only knows what century on the Death Star. Here are some examples — cartoons by Mr. Brown, captions mine — of the common threads in the space-time continuum.

One ruler's trash is a kid's forbidden and filthy treasure.

One ruler’s trash is a kid’s forbidden and filthy treasure.

It takes the power of the Dark Side to potty-train the pee-filled padawans.

It takes the power of the Dark Side to potty-train the pee-filled padawans.

Tossing the toys in the Sarlac pit is preferable to the inefficient time-out tantrum.

Tossing the toys in the Sarlac pit is preferable to the inefficient time-out tantrum.

Choose your battles: The younglings have the power of the dark "why."

Choose your battles: The younglings have the power of the dark “why.”

Whatever they need to show you or tell you cannot wait til you come out of the powder room.

Whatever they need to tell you cannot possibly wait til you come out of the powder room, so ALWAYS have your game face on.

The Force and The Dark Side are no match for the power of The Snack: It always seals the deal.

The Force and The Dark Side are no match for The Snack: It always seals the deal.

Even ousted Jedi Masters consider leaving them by the side of the orbit.

Even ousted Jedi Masters consider leaving them by the side of the orbit.

...And most importantly, never, NEVER wait on the vadectomy.

…And most importantly, never, NEVER wait on the vadectomy.

“All About That Bass” – MY version

So… if you don’t know who Meghan Trainor is by now, then I guess your kids are not “all about that bass” as much as mine are. Hell… ‘lil Peyton is so obsessed with the song that I have to sing it to her before naps, bouncing her in the air on each word “treble” as we walk to her room (Did I mention she doesn’t sleep in a closet any more?). It’s the only fail-safe way I can guarantee she won’t go screaming into the crib. So when you’re singing the song as much as I do, and you fashion yourself as the female Weird Al, naturally you can’t help but create your own version. Related to your kids, of course. And before you ask: Is this strictly for everyone’s entertainment value? Well…yes! But it is true I had a cleaning lady “fire” our house. (Oh the shame of it!) My current girl probably only keeps the job ’cause she has six slobs of her own in one of those Carol-meets-Mike-Brady-type families. So here goes that mess:

“All About That Mess”
copyright 2014

Because you know I’m all about that mess,
‘Bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess (mess…mess…mess)

Yeah it’s pretty clear, I have three kids at home
Enough toys to fill up the friggin’ Superdome
I’ve got a vac-cuum, but no social graces
All the cheap crap in all the wrong places.
I see those perfect ones cleaning up their shit
We know you beat them kids vaccuum mom
Come now, look at my pit
Ain’t no Susie-Q didn’t raise ’em right
Just a filthy slobby mommy
And my time ain’t worth their fight.

You know a housekeeper said that she could not clean up our house?
‘Cause if she did then each time she would feel the strong need to de-louse.
Too many Legos, hot wheels, grease-covered toys and stuffed dolls,
So, you germ-a-phobe white-glove-type mommies
Just move along.

Because you know I’m all about that mess,
‘Bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess  (Hey)

joe's apartmentI’m bringing Joe’s Apartment back
Singin’ roaches that have got the knack
Enough spilled Cheerios to make them fat,
I’m here to tell you when your kids are full of grime
A slimy roach has got the time.

You know a housekeeper said that she could not clean up our house?
‘Cause if she did then each time she would feel the strong need to de-louse
Too many Legos, hot wheels, grease-covered toys and stuffed dolls,
So, you germ-a-phobe white-glove-type mommies
Just move along…ooooooou!

Because you know I’m all about that mess,
‘Bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess, no cleanin’
I’m all about that mess, ’bout that mess (repeat 3xs)

hey hey yeah yeah ….oooooooou!

boy

“Cleaning the house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling the drive when the snow is still blowing.” – Famous quote by some mom who gets it.

 

It’s just another Manic Sunday, and my boys are nuts

My boys think it’s absolutely nirvana to dine on Chef Boyardee Beefaroni and ABCs & 123s, mixed together, for lunch. This is a creation lazily slopped together once by dad in an effort not to use too many microwave bowls. Now it’s a regular request. One day, just to mess with them, I think I might throw in a little Franco American Spaghettios! And do you know what I like to do when there’s only one can of said deliciousness left in the house? I hide it behind the canned vegetables for myself! Surely they would never, ever look behind those, right?

Note the whole grain variety: I only serve wholesome foods here. ;)

Note the whole grain variety: I only serve wholesome foods here. (Hardee-Har-Har!)

In other news, after said gourmet lunch the boys have spent their Sunday afternoon gathering together every single solitary acorn in the yard and placing them in the back of the toy ride-on tractor in the garage. Chef Dad, creator of the Boyardee miracle, explained to them that the squirrels need those nuts to make it through the winter. So the boys explained they will be dragging their stash back outside in an effort to fairly redistribute them in a first ever socialistic squirrel welfare-state. I would liken it to food stamps, but the logistics behind that are a little too much for their 9 and 6-year-old brains. Plus, I’m not letting them have all the printer paper so they can design said stamps, even if it does keep my little nut-jobs occupied! Why aren’t their teachers giving them more homework, anyway? Geez!

Sloppy Joes… Slop…Sloppy Joes. Sloppy Joes… Slop…Sloppy Joes. -Adam Sandler

Otherwise titled: Three Ways to Eat a Sloppy Joe

The Nate (a.k.a. “Sandwich Style”) – Hamburger meat in Sloppy Joe sauce sandwiched into a bun. However, no matter how much or how little meat, Sloppy Joe sauce will inevitably run all down hands and arms and potentially hit sleeves if not thwarted by the closest napkin or paper towel. Use spoon to scrape excess lost meat off plate. Consider licking plate when parental units aren’t looking. Or, brazenly, while they are looking.

The Matt (a.k.a. “Oreo Style”) – Again, same starting concept. However, remove top bun first and consume. Then, use fingers to eat meat. Discard any found chunks of pepper or tomato in small pile on table to the side of dinner plate. Resume eating soggy bottom bun with a fork. Leave remnants of sauce on chin, upper lip, and in corners of mouth until bed-time.

The Peyton (a.k.a “Chipmunk Style”) – Begin with tiny pieces of squashed down flat Sloppy Joe sandwich scattered over high-chair tray. Stuff all pieces into mouth at one time until cheeks puff out. Place excess chunks in hair, ears and nose for safe keeping. Require disgruntled spot cleaning followed by a bath splash-down.

 

The Mom – Tupperwares excess Sloppy Joe to pursue the same adventure as leftovers in a couple days. Keep Calm and Sloppy On.

stock-photo-sloppy-joe

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