An Empty Toilet Paper Roll Is A Dangerous Thing

I have a post I've been wanting to write for awhile now. I've been mentally composing it and editing it, but I'm afraid to actually write it down for fear that I'll jinx myself. Silly me, I had planned to post it this week. But no, I have something much better to post about, lucky me. Because right now I'm doing midnight laundry. Again. Yes, it's the second time this week.

Why am I doing laundry this late (ok so it isn't really midnight, but it sure feels like it)? Trust me, it isn't from some misplaced compulsion to maintain a completely empty laundry basket. I haven't seen a fully empty laundry basket in a long time. And I already did laundry once today, so it's silly to do it again, right? Not so much, unfortunately. Laundry at this hour means I have to do laundry.

I was upstairs with Mister Man helping him find something after bedtime and we walked out of my bedroom where I saw the wee ones' bathroom door was closed and the light was on. I didn't think I'd left it like that a minute earlier, so I turned the knob and jokingly asked, "Who's in there now?"

That's when I saw Little Miss sitting on the floor with her pajamas in a pile in front of her. She wasn't fully awake, but she was working on it. As I stepped forward to see what the problem was, I felt something wet under my foot. My brain finally caught up to the rest of me, and I groaned. At least she'd made it into the bathroom and the tile floor, but the rug and her pjs (and socks she was wearing under her footie pjs for some reason) were soaked. I helped her into the shower and sighed.

Once she was back in bed, I picked up her dirty clothes and the now dirty bath towel and stuck them in the laundry. I shrugged and added the rest of the dirty laundry to fill the load before going back into her room to question her a little more. Slowly, slowly the story came out, as her personality is loathe to admit to anything she thinks might be doing something wrong, even when it isn't anything that's wrong or anything that's her fault.

There was a reason she had her accident in front of the door rather than anywhere else. She'd walked into the bathroom and seen that the toilet paper roll was empty. Her six year old assumption was that you can't go to the bathroom if there's no toilet paper. She knew where we keep the extra toilet paper, so she walked to that cabinet in front of the door and opened it. When she couldn't find any in there (the new giant pack was in the garage), she gave up.

Oh my poor peanut.

So let that be a warning to you. Always, always change the toilet paper. And yes, I'm talking to you. Trust me, you don't want to walk into what I did tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to go change.

Tasty Tuesday - Crepes!

Birthdays are big in our house. Well, I make them big anyway. Everyone gets to choose the birthday dinner and the type of cake ... and I'll make it. We've done everything from Peach Cake to homemade bagel dogs to pasta with carbonara and more. Thursday was my birthday. So of course I got breakfast in bed. Well, I at least had breakfast made for me. Ok ok ok, so I had to make my own special birthday breakfast.

That's ok, because it was worth it. I know Melisa thinks I made these for her, but really I made them in honor of her, so there's no reason for her to be upset that our double recipe was gone by the time we finished our meal. Besides, she was in Tennessee and far away; they would have been gross if I'd saved them for her.

Easy Crepes

Ingredients*:
2 eggs
1 c milk (rice milk for us)
1 c flour
1 pinch salt
1 1/2 t butter (or in our case dairy free dairy substitute), melted

Directions:
Place all the ingredients into a blender - the eggs, flour, milk, salt, and melted butter. Turn it on, starting at low and moving it up until it's blended. This will take only a few seconds. You want it completely mixed but don't want to keep mixing it so that you don't have tough gluten filled crepes. This is going to be an extremely thin batter. Don't panic that it's too thin. Trust me.

Once you have the mixture blended, stick it in the fridge for a half hour or so (or do it overnight - covered - if you want to have these when you first wake up. Yes, everything is already cold, but when you let mixtures with flour (pie crust, pizza dough, pasta, etc) rest after mixing, it allows the flour to relax so that it isn't as tough and that you can keep it from snapping back together as you work with it. Just trust me and do it.

I have an actual crepe pan, which is nonstick and very shallow. If you don't have a crepe pan, you can use a frying pan, but try to use the shallowest one that you own. Heat the pan on medium heat, and brush the pan with oil so that your crepes don't stick. With my pan, I have to brush it once (and this is just a tiny tiny bit of oil) and never again for a batch. Depending on your pan, you may need to reoil it as you go.

I always use a measuring cup to do my crepes. I dip a one-third cup measure into the batter then pour it in a circle at the center of the pan. Immediately, you must pick up the pan and twirl it in a circle. Don't do it slowly, or your batter will cook where it is an not spread across the entire pan. That doesn't mean you have to toss the crepe, but your goal is to have it reach the full circle. It takes a little practice, but you'll get it. Once you've twirled it and had the batter cover the entire pan, place it back on the stove and let it cook.

It will take only a minute or so to cook on the first side. You'll know it's ready when you see the edges start to get almost crispy and begin to pull away from the edge a little. I use a wooden fork to flip my crepes, as it's the easiest and most effective tool I've found. Use a tine of the fork to pull the edge of the crepe away from the pan, then slide the fork under it (use your fingers to hold the crepe in place, as needed) and lift. Flip it over, then let it cook on the other side for another thirty to forty-five seconds.

Remove the crepe to a plate and decide what you're going to fill it with. Some suggestions from my family? Nutella, Nutella with sliced bananas, cherry preserves, cherry preserves with Nutella, maple syrup, maple syrup with bananas, bananas with Nutella and whipped cream. Whatever your filling, place it in the center of the crepe in a line from one end to the other. Carefully fold the crepe over the line, then roll it up. Serve immediately.

If you're making these for later, you can separate them with waxed paper to store. They actually store great in the freezer, which had been my original intention when making the double batch. Silly me. And yes, it's possible to make these into savory crepes (mmm Thai chicken or creamed spinach). But I need some Nutella in my birthday breakfast crepes.

*This is a single batch. For my family of four, I made a double batch (about 16 crepes) that was a good meal for us but were all gone with no leftovers. I figure I'll be doing at least a triple batch by the time Mister Man is a teenager.

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure

Enjoy this and more with Blessed With Grace and Tempt My Tummy Tuesday. Also posting now with A Southern Fairytale and her Mouthwatering Monday.

There's A Myth Out There That Running Is Good For You

People say all the time that running is good for you. Once you've been running, it releases these wonderful endorphins that make you feel so good and blah blah blah. Yay, exercise is wonderful.

I'd like to tell you the truth about running. It is not good. Running is bad, and I have proof. Do you see my poor toes?

When I took off my shoe this morning, I not only had my usual chip through the middle of my big left toe, but the nail on my right big toe had been ripped and torn, and the polish on another toe was completely missing. sigh

So the next time someone tells you that you should try running because it's good for you, just point them in my direction. It's not. Just look what it does! But ummnmm, that said, I'll see you at the gym tomorrow morning?

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure

Dear Tooth Fairy

It's been a tooth losing week here at our house. Last Thursday, Mister Man tripped over a friend in gym and out popped his tooth. On Saturday, Little Miss called me from my mom's house to announce that her tooth had come out all by itself, Mommy! It just fell out all by itself, and there wasn't even any blood!

The tooth fairy managed to come, but there's a twist now. First Mister Man announced that he was waiting for Thanksgiving to give his tooth to the Tooth Fairy in the hopes that he would get a bonus. I giggled but said nothing. In the end, he decided on his own to put the tooth under his pillow, but he had something extra to add. He wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy.

Let me translate:
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Why do you always give me a quarter? Please write back. PS How big are you? If you don't know, try my poster.

Awww, right? Except that he expected an answer. And our Tooth Fairy does only give a quarter because forty teeth and a child who needs for nothing who already doesn't have a strong respect for the value of a dollar. But how do you explain that to a child? And I do my best not to lie to him... so he received this response in tiny gold bring.

Dear Mister Man,
I give you a quarter as a way to say thank you for the gift of your tooth. Every household has a different amount that they receive. You get a smaller amount because you have lots, need little, and are well loved. Time to move one!

So when Little Miss arrived home Sunday morning, proudly sporting her tooth in a plastic bag because she didn't want to have her tooth taken when she was at Grandma's house, she had a note that she'd written, as well. Her note was of course folded up like a card and had a front and an inside. And yes, her spelling was atrocious, but hey - she's in first grade. Spanish first grade.

Dear Tooth Fairy,
If you don't know, try my growth chart of Hancock Tower. Do you have any fellow tooth fairies? And please don't write mess up my room. And please don't write back in small letters. Thank you. Love, Little Miss

Yeah, I've got precious kids. Who knew the Tooth Fairy was into messing up kids' rooms? (Little Miss claimed that the Tooth Fairy had never done so when questioned, by the way.) There is great fascination about the size of the Tooth Fairy but no answer yet. The response to this note came in tiny letters, too, although in purple ink instead of gold. Little Miss was irritated that the Tooth Fairy didn't follow the instructions of such a great personage as herself. Go fig.

All I have to say is that I really hope no one loses any teeth for a long, long time.

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure

Tasty Tuesday - Banana Split S'mores

Mister Man had a playdate today, because of course he has no school all week long. The boys played together so nicely, and they asked very politely if they could have a snack. Mister Man, knowing me better than the other boy, asked if it could be an extra special snack because "after all, Mommy, we don't have school tomorrow and it's a holiday and a special occasion and could we please please please have something special?"

So of course I had to come up with something. And they were pleased. Who wouldn't be pleased with Banana Split S'mores though?

Banana Split S'mores

Ingredients:
Graham Crackers
Large Marshmallows
A Banana
Nutella (or ok, a decent bar of chocolate)

Directions:
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. Break your graham crackers in half, and place one half of each cracker on a sil pat on a cookie sheet or other baking surface. Place the marshmallows on the graham crackers. I like them on their sides because they spread better for me that way, but feel free to stand them up if you're worried about them rolling all over.

Place them in the oven and bake for three to four minutes or until a beautiful toasty brown color (note that mine are softer and shinier than yours will be because I forgot to take out my water bath from when I was making bread yesterday making it very humid in the oven).

While the s'mores are baking, slice a banana and set it aside. You want two slices of banana per s'more. Slather the other half of the graham cracker with Nutella (or place a piece of chocolate on it if you lack Nutella).

Once the marshmallows have come out of the oven, place the two slices of banana on each s'more, and press down gently so they stay in place. Top with the Nutella slathered graham crackers and press firmly. Flip them upside down so that the hot graham cracker doesn't get soft from all the heat being trapped by the plate. If you don't have Nutella and are instead using a chocolate bar, the heat from the baked marshmallow will melt the chocolate beautifully. Eat immediately, and keep the napkins handy!

Enjoy this and more with Blessed With Grace and Tempt My Tummy Tuesday. Also posting now with A Southern Fairytale and her Mouthwatering Monday.

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure

Never Lose Faith

As I drove out of the city late Saturday night, I was shaking. It was not a good weekend, I kept telling myself. It was all things that were my fault, but that didn't help. Two moments of stupidity in a twenty-four hour span had caused a lot of panic, and the adrenalin was still flowing.

My first issue had come Friday night. My quarterly girls' night out with my shelter friends (we all volunteered together for years, until I moved too far away) in the city meant we were having dinner at Viand - a restaurant I highly recommend with Nick as our awesome server. We stuffed ourselves silly, and chatted after our meal since the restaurant had died down at that point and no one was waiting for our table. We paid our bill in a leisurely manner. Once we figured out the tab, I realized that I didn't have enough cash, so I paid with a credit card while my other friends paid their tabs in cash.

One friend kindly drove me to the train station, and I boarded my train. As it pulled out of the station, my phone rang. It was another of the friends from dinner who asked if by chance I'd left my credit card at the restaurant. Ummm, why yes. Yes, I had. I'd been full and distracted and tired and talking and ... since I was the only one with a credit card, I hadn't even thought of it. I grumbled to myself but realized I'd be in the city again the next night and could get it then. I called the restaurant and made the arrangements, explaining I'd be there a little before seven and getting confirmation that I could illegally park in front the restaurant with valets watching my car while I dashed in to get my card after showing my ID to prove it is me. Phew.

On Saturday, I headed into the city - driving this time. I debated filling the car with gas (a loaner from GM, mind you, so not my car) before I went or waiting until after I picked up my credit card where I get a larger gas rebate. It dawned on me that I was really not likely to want to stop late at night, so I decided to suck it up and deal with a lower rebate for one tank of gas. Of course, at the gas station, I couldn't find the fuel tank release. Anywhere. I ended up having to call OnStar to ask them who transferred me to Chevy who eventually explained that there was no fuel tank release and I simply needed to press the back of the tank and it would pop open. Umm hello, yes, I am an idiot, and it didn't even dawn on me to try that, but there went fifteen minutes that I would have liked to have spent driving.

As I got downtown, traffic backed up significantly. It quickly became apparent that I was going to get to Viand near 7pm and would be late for the event a few blocks the other way, but I simply sighed and crept through traffic. As I continued to creep forward, I eventually came upon a sign explaining that Michigan was closed now due to a parade, which meant there was no time effective way for me to get the half block on the other side of Michigan that I needed to be to pick up my credit card. I grumbled but called the restaurant to let them know that I'd pick it up closer to 10pm. They asked if I could be put on hold, and after eight minutes on hold, I gave up and called back - whereupon I went straight to voicemail. I left a message explaining the situation and headed into the 8pm event, just a couple minutes late.

I had a great time at the event with lots of friends I hadn't realized would be there and headed out after the event to pick up my credit card at Viand. I drove over, happy that Michigan was once again open, and parked directly in front of the restaurant. I ran in and explained the situation to the hostess who went to find her manager. While waiting, I dug through my purse to get my driver's license so I'd be ready for them. Hmm. Not my wallet is not where it belongs. Hmm, my wallet appears to not be in my purse at all. I know it was there because I had to pay for parking right before the other event and remembered putting my wallet inside my purse. I took everything out, but no wallet. With the hostess still not back, I ran to the car in a panic, hoping that it had somehow fallen out there but knowing that it hadn't tipped over. No wallet in the car.

My mind raced, "Holy cow! My wallet has been stolen, and it had to have been stolen at the event and I know most of those people. How is that even possible?" I was absolutely crushed, my faith in humanity shaken. I went back inside and explained to the hostess that my wallet was missing. She asked if I had anything with my photo on it. And no, apparently my bloggy business cards don't count. She said she'd take my car registration, except that of course I wasn't driving my car right now, so I had no registration. Seriously?

I had held my purse the majority of the night, only putting it down briefly at my feet twice. Hoping against hope, I tried to find the number of the place Craftsman Experience where I'd been earlier in the night. I somehow found the number and expected to leave a message begging if they had heard anything about a wallet. Instead, a voice answered. As I started to explain that I'd been there earlier for a blogger event, he interrupted and asked if I had lost a wallet. I almost wept with joy. I verified that it was my information inside and thus my wallet, and they explained that someone had found it outside and just turned it in a few minutes earlier. I have no idea who did it, but I am grateful beyond belief.

Unfortunately, I still had no photo ID, and the hostess couldn't release my credit card. I explained that my wallet had been found and that it was at the Craftsman Experience where I had been earlier. I suggested they check their voicemail from earlier in the evening to find my message and call the number I'd left - since it would ring to my phone in front of them, that would prove that I'm me, right? No can do. I asked if they could call the Craftsman Experience and verify that they had my lost wallet and that it was mine and use that in conjunction with everything else. I showed them the card with the phone number on it, so it wasn't like they were just calling a "friend" who would say anything. She agreed and spent a few minutes on the phone with them using an unorthodox was to verify that I am who I say I am - oh and my photo is on the back of the credit card, which matches my photo on my bloggy business cards though it was of me with long hair, which also helped slightly. In the end, I was able to get my credit card back, though the hostess kept my bloggy business card (so hello if you're reading your story!) which I found interesting.

I am grateful that they don't simply give out a credit card to anyone who happens by, but I was thisclose to being denied my own card even though: 1) I knew whose card was there, 2) knew when it had been left and when I was supposed to pick it up, 3) matched the photo on the back, 4) had a business card with my name and photo, and 5) had left a voicemail earlier in the night where they could have verified it was me and my phone. And then of course there's the sheer panic when I couldn't find my wallet; would someone really make that up?

Once I got back in my car, which fortunately had been neither ticketed nor towed in the twenty minutes I spent there, I drove back to the Craftsman Experience where the very nice folks were waiting for me. My wallet was fully intact with no items missing. They couldn't tell me who turned it in, but I am extremely grateful regardless.

In the end, I drove out the city shaking from all this but grateful that my faith in humanity was not misplaced and that there are still good people in this world. And that even though I may panic and I may do stupid things, taking a deep breath and dealing with them instead of freaking out and getting upset always has a better outcome. In this case, it's as good as I could have hoped. But is it wrong that I'm still going to monitor my bank account and the credit cards that were in my wallet?

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure

It Could Have Been Us

It's been a week full of bad news around here. Everyone everywhere has heard about Jerry Sandusky and the Penn State scandal, and that's been covered beyond belief, so I won't belabor it here. Then news came out that a teacher was arrested and accused of fondling himself in front of students and had been doing so for ten years prior to this. And then came the news that a daycare worker was convicted of killing a sixteen month old boy by throwing him to the ground while at work.

There but for the grace of God....

Mister Man is in a private school. He's in a Catholic school that I visited and reviewed before enrolling him. I talked to other parents about lots of questions I had in the effort to make sure it was the best place for him. And we're happy there. I can only imagine that the parents at that Christian school were happy with their choice prior to last Friday, too. How do you see something like that coming? I feel for the families there, and I can't imagine how they're reacting.

The daycare incident, however, hits even closer to home. Before Mister Man was born, I knew we'd need daycare coverage once I went back to work. I looked around at a lot of options. I called and researched many centers, ruling several out before even setting foot inside them. I visited four centers to meet the staff and see how the centers operated. The one I chose was the one that made me feel the most secure. To get into or out of the facility, you had to scan your fingerprint. The reception desk was in sight of all the infant rooms and one of the toddler rooms, and everyone had to walk past the reception desk to leave the building. The staff was sweet, and they were accommodating when I expressed some desires that were outside the norm. I wanted to send my own baby food when he was old enough (homemade), and I didn't want him to use an Exersaucer - I'd rather he play on the ground. They assured me that I wasn't the only parent who did things that way, and they were fine with it. I felt comfortable there, and I was confident that he'd be loved.

We had a great experience there, too. He enjoyed going, and the staff was great. We moved when he was two, however, which meant we went to a different daycare center. That first daycare center, however? That's where the daycare worker was convicted of killing a toddler, in a classroom I'm sure Mister Man spent time. She's twenty-five now, which means she was too young to have been working there when Mister Man attended, but how do you know?

How easily could it have been Mister Man either there or at another center? Or at his preschool? Or at his current school? Or you hear about the children who get lost on field trips. Or are hit by cars when playing outside. Or are kidnapped or abused by strangers or those close to them. The sheer number of possible disasters is staggering, and it's hard for me to even sit at my computer and categorize them.

At some point, I need to take a deep breath. I need to decide if I trust that I've done my very best and need to hope for the best or whether I'm going to spend my days hovering and worrying and prepared constantly for that phone call. For the sake of my sanity, I've chosen the former. I have to. This last week has truly shaken my faith, however.

How do you deal with all the potential disasters out there?

Win a Big G prize pack with Justice League comics, cereal, and a Green Lantern action figure