What Do You People Think Of Me?

I had a lot of fun putting together my truths and lies on Saturday. In fact, if you all enjoyed it anywhere near as much as I did, I may do another version sometime.

Looking at the answers some of you put up there, I'm beginning to wonder what you think of me. I was a little disappointed that not a single person thought me not remembering Little Miss's birthweight was a lie. And so many of you thought I was a lush in high school. And apparently many of you think I still bite my fingernails.

Without further ado, here's the answer key:

My first plane flight was when I was four years old.
False For some odd reason, I was on a plane at 6 months old. I'm not really sure what my parents were thinking or why they went on vacation with me at that point, as it isn't like they were made of money, but ... I was on a plane early.

I used to own a retired racehorse.
True I was way into horses ever since I was a little girl. I rode all the time and eventually moved to a barn where you had to own a horse to ride. I put it off as long as I could, but I eventually got a horse. He was off the track, which means he was a failed thoroughbred racehorse. His registered name was Antoine le Count. I quickly changed it to Schnaz (I was in high school so please don't ask why), and his show name was Going My Way. He was a pretty cool guy, and I miss him. Someday I'll start riding again.

I don't eat mushrooms.
True I have a lot of food issues. This is one of them. Mushrooms, especially their texture, just gross me out. I won't eat foods that have them in them. Even picking them out doesn't always do it, as there's an icky mushroom taste left behind frequently. I'm a PITA, I know.

I'm allergic to grass.
False Luckily. That is one of the (many) allergies that I would not want to have.

I've never been in a car accident.
False C'mon, have I not said anything about my mom's driving record? My mom who flipped her car three times going down an icy exit ramp and then used scissors to cut my sister out of her seatbelt (we were upsidedown) because she couldn't think to actually unbuckle the seatbelt? No? Oh. And ummm yeah. I've had a couple myself. Knock on wood not any in years and years.

I was admitted to medical school but never attended.
True Thank you for all you nice people who didn't immediately jump on this one as false. The people I work with usually chose this as my one lie. I wasn't sure how to take that. I went to Northwestern as part of their HPME program, where I was accepted to the NU medical school out of high school and would have done three years undergrad before graduating and moving to med school. Four weeks into my coursework, I realized that I hated science and didn't want to go to med school. Oops.

I never had a drop of alcohol until I was in college.
True Really, people. I'm disappointed at how many of you guessed that this was a lie. Actually, alcohol is a little too close. I know the problems that alcohol can cause, and I know that with my family's history I'm susceptible to issues, so I always stayed far away from it. I can count on one hand the times I can think of where I've been drunk, drunk. The fact that I hate to be out of control has nothing to do with it, I swear! But I did discover Peach Schnapp's my freshman year and would occasionally imbibe. But none of my friends in high school even drank.

I still bite my fingernails.
False And again, thank you people who think I still do! I did bite my fingernails for a long time growing up. I hated when I would get a hangnail or part of a nail would break off, so I'd chew at it to try to get it even again. Which never worked and always involved more and more evening until I had no nail left. My sixth grade teacher even bought and put on some spicy thing to try to get me to stop. I did at some point on my own, though. I still hate it when my nails aren't even though.

I can sing the alphabet backwards.
So true. So very true, in fact. Someday I'll video myself doing it. Maybe. When Mister Man was little, the only way to keep him quiet in the car was to sing to him. He hated being in the car and would cry and cry when he wasn't being touched or held. So I sang. A lot. The same songs over and over. Driving the forty-five minutes to my parents (fortunately, we're closer now), I could only sing the same song for so long. Eventually I entertained myself by singing the alphabet backwards -- among other made up songs. Ooo, I'll have to video Little Miss and her mouthwash song someday, speaking of fun made up songs.

I can't remember my daughter's birthweight.
True I hate to admit it, but ... I think she was 7'3" but I can't swear to it. I had a really hard birth with her in terms of my physical stability and health. I was violently ill, couldn't warm up after the surgery, didn't tolerate the morphine, etc. I feel like such a horrible mom for not knowing this. And I want to say that she was born at exactly 9:15am, but I can't swear to that either. I need to dig out her birth certificate. Second child syndrome, ya know?

I don't know how to swim the breast stroke.
False I do. Fortunately. I took swim lessons growing up because my mom doesn't know how to swim. (Truly, not at all would drown if in over her head in two seconds doesn't know how to swim) She felt it was really important. I never made it to the butterfly stroke part -- or at least I could never figure it out -- but I can do the breaststroke.

Phew! So what do you think? Kinda fun? Feel free to steal this idea if you want. And if I'm inspired (or uninspired rather), I think I will try this one out again!

This Is Why I Go To Bed First

Before I forget, go play my fun game from last night's post. Answers go up Monday night!

*************************************

Last night, I was trying to finish something before heading to bed. My husband happened to decide to go to bed about five minutes before I was finished. I didn't notice at first, but I quickly did.

You don't need to adjust your monitor, as there isn't any picture, but you need to listen to the audio. This is what I heard through the closed bedroom door, downstairs, while I had a television on. It was louder than the television. Out of respect to my husband, I chose to not turn on the lights.

Go ahead. Feel my pain.



Tonight? I figure I've got another ten minutes before I need to race upstairs and try to fall asleep before my husband gets there.

The kicker? When I played this for him this afternoon, he said it sounded a little like a creaky boat and wasn't that loud. It's all in your perspective, I suppose.

Set Me Up In Vegas

Apparently I'm a good liar. I don't try to be, and in general, I don't lie. Often. And not about important things.

This week, my work had a getting to know you activity among a few different functions (I know, I know -- we really should all know each other by now but whatever). Before we had lunch, we were all to write down two truths and one lie on a sticky note and then place this on our nametags.

We then walked around and tried to figure out who was telling the truth about what and who was lying. Almost no one guessed which were my truths, but I was over ninety percent accurate in pegging other people. If only I knew how to play poker....

I'm not sure what this says about me, but I'm interested to see if you do any better. Below are several statements. Some are true, and some are not. Can you pick out which are the lies?

My first plane flight was when I was four years old.

I used to own a retired racehorse.

I don't eat mushrooms.

I'm allergic to grass.

I've never been in a car accident.

I was admitted to medical school but never attended.

I never had a drop of alcohol until I was in college.

I still bite my fingernails.

I can sing the alphabet backwards.

I can't remember my daughter's birthweight.

I don't know how to swim the breast stroke.

What do you think? I'll give you a clue. Of these items, five are not true. Can you figure them out?

Master Manipulator

Sometimes, I'm that mom. You know, the one who lets her kids do things that seem all harmless fun for me but that other parents cringe at, hoping against hope that their kids don't notice what mine are doing.

Let me give you an example.

Today, the wee ones had no school (again), so we spent our morning at the Kohl's Children's Museum again. We always have a great time, and the membership makes the price right!

One of the Little Miss's favorite things to do is get her face painted. She likes for me to paint it for her, poor dear. My artistic skills leave a bit to be desired. Fortunately, she's happy with the butterfly that I painted. It's really that or a happy face.

The problem came in when she noticed what Mister Man was doing. For the first time ever (and this leads me to think that possibly everything we've been doing for the past four years is really having an impact on his development and sensory issues, yay!), he wanted his face painted, and he did it all himself while I was helping Little Miss.



He calls that masterpiece "Two Face" after the villain. We're way into superheroes right now. You'll notice that one half of his face is all scary and painted up and the other is totally normal. You'll also notice that he chose - of his own volition with no prompting from me - a gorgeous Vikings sweatsuit to wear today.

And in our family, of course.... Monkey See, Monkey Do.



The problem came in when Little Miss decided it would be fun to paint my face, too. Since I have nowhere I need to be for the rest of the day and it is water soluble crayon (read: very easily removable), what's the harm?

I'll admit that I did have a moment of paranoia that with my face painted this way I'd get pulled over on the way home and have to explain my face to a police officer, but I didn't let that deter me. She spent a good ten or so minutes fixing my face up right. See?



As we were leaving, Little Miss decided she had to go potty (yay, good girl!). As we were washing our hands, a girl around five or so said to her mom:

Wow, so mommies can get their faces painted, too?
Her Mom: Well, I guess so.
Little Girl: Can I paint your face, Mommy?
Her Mom: Not today, but maybe next time.
Little Girl: Why not?
Her Mom: We're in the process of leaving right now, so we don't have time to do it today.
Little Girl: Please?
Her Mom: Not today. We've had such a good day playing in the museum and having so much fun.
Little Girl: But my day would be so much better if I could just paint your face!
Her Mom: Nice try. The answer's still no.

And that whole time? I'm the one cringing hoping that Little Miss isn't picking up the techniques to try to manipulate people. I'm not so concerned about her manipulating me, but ... let's just say that her grandparents are a bit more susceptible.

Daddies Make Bad Patients

Achoo, he says with a wheeze,
Behold he begins to sneeze!
Cuz he down for the count
Dizziness does mount.
Even Mommy grows weary
For Daddy acts all teary.

Gone are the days of ease;
He does nothing but sneeze.
Indeed Dads aren't great
Just rely on their mate (for)
Kindness, nursing and care
Lovingly patient and fair.

Must we be the only ones
Never allowed sick nor fun?
Oh to be a dad some day
Playing sick we laze away,
Queen of the castle again
Resting, asleep in the den.

Still, we know that's only a dream
The patient requests some more steam
Until the sickness is gone (up)
Very late, we still see the dawn.

When at last they heeded
X-rays not needed
Yet doctors they had to see
Zzzzz's -- not yet, not me.

PS - This is what happens when my husband gets sick. With "bronchitis" he self-diagnosed. He even stayed home from school today and got a sub. I was responsible for working from home yesterday and today. And wrangling children, trying to keep them away from him. And tending to his every want and need so he wouldn't need to touch anything and spread germs to the rest of us. And whoooo tomorrow is a day off school for the wee ones, so I get to try to entertain them while keeping the miserable patient happy. When's my spa weekend again? Oh. Right. I don't have one planned!

I'm going to bed. At least until that little bell rings again signaling that I'm needed....

It Doesn't Quite Work That Way

Yesterday is one of my favorite days of the year. It's Packzi Day! (Ummm for those of you not from the Chicago area, as I think this is a Polish imigrant custom that hasn't translated much elsewhere, that's "Poohnch-khee" Day.) You can get them at the local grocery store, but they're much better from a bakery, and from a particular bakery near me, too. These are so much better than the King Cakes of New Orleans' Mardi Gras or the Pancakes of Shrove Tuesday. Much better.

And I almost forgot about them. It's been a busy couple weeks, but luckily I remembered yesterday just before lunchtime. I took Mister Man with me to help choose what flavors we want.

Oh yeah. The flavors. These hugely filled donut-like creations (the only time a year I have any interest in donuts) come in everything from pineapple to strawberries and whipped cream to prune to strawberry jam and more. Way, way more. Granted, they aren't traditionally all these flavors -- fruit is traditional, but the other kinds are way yummy.

On the way to the bakery to get our Packzis, I asked Mister Man if he remembered Packzi Day from last year. He didn't really remember it, so I explained that we only have these on one special day a year. Packzi Day is just one special Tuesday.

So he asked why. Of course.

Me: Well, do you remember learning about Easter in Sunday School?
Mister Man: Ummm, yeah.
Me: Well, tell me what you remember about Easter.
Mister Man: That's when Jesus was killed. And then three days later there was a miracle and He came back to life.
Me: Right. And do you know why He did that?
Mister Man: No.
Me: Well, He loved us so much that he sacrificed himself for us and allowed himself to be killed so that we can all go to Heaven if we believe and are good during our lives. Because He let Himself be killed, we never have to worry again.
Mister Man: Oh.
Me: And for forty days before Easter, we think about what Jesus did for us because we know that Easter is coming, and we want to remember what a great thing He did for us. Those forty days are called Lent.
Mister Man: Uh-huh.
Me: And the day before the beginning of Lent is called Fat Tuesday.
Mister Man: Why do they call it Fat Tuesday?
Me: Well, Mister Man, if you knew that during this serious time of thinking you weren't going to be able to celebrate or do or eat fun things, wouldn't you maybe want to have one last night of fun before you start getting serious?
Mister Man: You mean I can't do fun things anymore?
Me: No, not exactly. Awhile ago, though, people took Lent much more seriously than they do now. They didn't eat meat for the whole forty days. They didn't eat at all on some days -- that's called fasting. Nowadays people usually choose one thing to give up for Lent.
Mister Man: Like what?
Me: Well, some people give up candy or cakes or chewing gum or watching tv or other things like that.
Mister Man: So today is the last day I can eat any candy?
Me: Only if that's what you decide you want to give up.
There was silence for a few moment.
Mister Man: Mommy, I think I'm going to give up my mouthwash for Lent.
Me: Generally, sweetie, you try to give up things you really love for Lent so that it's a sacrifice. Kind of remembering that Jesus made a really big sacrifice for us. You don't have to give up something this year, but maybe in a couple years when you're a little older you can start giving things up for Lent.
Mister Man: Ok. But I want to count the days of Lent. Each day I'm going to announce what day it is.
Me: That's a good idea. Some people make little calendars for Lent and mark off each day as it passes.
Mister Man: No, I just want to announce it.
The car was silent again for awhile. Then, a shout.
Mister Man: ONE!

Right. That'll teach me to try to explain the concept of Lent and Fat Tuesday to a five year old. And I still haven't figured out what I'm doing for Lent. Maybe I'll just give up sleep....

Tasty Tuesday - Chicken And Dumplings

I can't believe it's already Tuesday. Fortunately, we've done some more cooking. This weekend, I made my mother in law's chicken and dumplings -- with my takes on it (e.g., no bouillion cubes for me!). My husband wasn't feeling too well, and you know what they say about chicken soup!

And I have to confess that when I first had chicken and dumplings (when my husband and I were engaged and visiting his family one weekend), I thought that they were supposed to be a soup. When my MIL put them on the table, let's just say everyone laughed at me when I expressed my surprise. Have I mentioned before that my mom didn't cook much when I was growing up?

In any case, they were great, and I've been a huge fan since. They're pretty easy to make, and they're a huge hit with everyone, including the wee ones -- and those are the best kinds of recipes!

For more yummy stuff, check out this week's Tempt My Tummy Tuesday with Blessed With Grace!

Chicken and Dumplings

Ingredients:

5 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
6 c low sodium chicken stock
4 egg yolks
2-3 c flour
1 t pepper

Directions:
Bring the chicken stock to a boil. Add the 5 chicken breasts and turn down to a simmer. Cook 20 to 25 minutes and remove the chicken. Cut chicken into bite size pieces.

Beat 4 egg yolks until fluffy (they will change color and turn a very light yellow). This will take about 2 minutes. Add 1 c of the broth to the eggs, being sure to temper the eggs (add a bit of broth at a time and stir well to bring the eggs up in temperature without scrambling them).

Add pepper and flour 1 c at a time. Mix with a fork until it forms a dough that is just slightly sticky but not dry (depending on humidity, it will be b/w 2 and 3 cups).

Roll out dough on lightly floured counter until about 1/4" thick. Cut into strips which will form your noodles (they can be as thin or thick and long or short as you choose). Drop them into broth that you have brought back to a boil a few at a time to avoid clumping. Cook until all dumplings have risen to the surface, then simmer a few minutes.

Add cut up chicken, stir and let the broth reduce until it's at a consistency you prefer (I like thick but still definitely with a sauce).

PS If you want to make it extra rich, add 1/4 cup of unsalted butter to the chicken broth after you've cooked the chicken and before you add it to the eggs to make the noodles.

Number of Servings: 10

(Pictures coming soon once I find my camera!)

Enjoy!