A Chip Off The Old Block

This morning, Mister Man slept in a little, and he didn't have to be to daycare until 9, so I let him. When I took Little Miss down for breakfast, I peeked in but he was still sleeping.

A few minutes later, I went upstairs and saw that he was sitting up in bed. As I pushed his door open to say good morning, he pulled the covers over something and looked up guiltily. "Good morning, Mom," he told me peeking up at me to see if I'd noticed.

I smiled at him. "Kiddo, if you want to read in the morning after you wake up, that's ok."

"Huh?"

"Yep. It isn't ok to read at night when you're supposed to be sleeping, but if you wake up and have time to read before you need to get up and go, that's perfectly fine."

His face visibly brightened. "Oh, good!" And he uncovered Good Morning Gorilla - his latest Magic Treehouse book - and hopped out of bed.

Apparently me taking away the book that he was reading the other night about forty-five minutes after bedtime sunk in. And now he's hiding his reading. I remember those days. I remember hiding the flashlight under the covers and reading. I remember feeling like I was getting away with something.

And now? Now I'm the mom, hiding the smile at the joy my child finds in reading, so happy that this is something he sees as a pleasure and not something to fear. I can only hope that he feels the same way two and five and ten years from now.

Sun Kissed Beaches And Bikinis

I took last week off work. It was my week to recharge and relax. My plan was to meet friends for lunch on Monday (which I did -- yay!), get a mani/pedi (which I did), get massages, read books, relax, get caught up on cleaning out things we no longer use, spend time weeding and prepping the garden, all those things that I don't have time to do on a regular basis.

Yeah.

Except for Monday, I spent essentially all my time either at the wee ones' preschool getting ready for our Cinco de Mayo fundraiser or at the local elementary school prepping for and working their rummage sale. While I did read the Twilight books, that was late late at night.

My week off? A major FAIL. And yes, I know it's my fault.

My new theory? I need to go away for a vacation. And I think I need to do it by myself, maybe with a few friends. For five days or so. I wouldn't want to be away from the wee ones for longer than that.

Unfortunately, that's so not happening for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that a guy who works for me is traveling the first week of June and then July 6 to August 3, which pretty much kills the entire summer.

But I can dream, right?

In my dreams, I'm headed to Mexico. I figure it has to be cheap at this point, right? And it's warm. And friendly. The plane trip isn't too long. The food is great, as are the drinks.

I think I'm at an all inclusive resort, and the best part is that the food has no calories, nor do the drinks. And the all inclusive includes all the fun things like SCUBA that I haven't done since before Mister Man was born and the trapeze school that I would so love to do. They even have horseback riding on the beach.

It doesn't rain there, which is nice, and I'm at one of the places where the vendors aren't allowed to congregate on the beaches and drive you nuts. I'm usually pretty good about keeping them away from me (there's something about living IN Chicago that tends to give people the vibe not to bother you), but it's nice to not have to worry about it.

Oh, I'm so ready to go. What else am I missing?

Do you think the chaise lounge on the deck with my toes in the wee ones' sandbox with a margarita will cut it? Maybe if I add some homemade guac and chips.

Tasty Tuesday!

I hate wasting things. My dad jokes that I'm a Depression Era baby, and in many ways I probably am. This would somewhat explain my love of cooking, right? It's cheap, and I get to use things up.

Sometimes when you buy things, they're stupidly expensive. Or you have to buy them in greater quantity than what you need. Raise your hand if you hate buying basil at the store.

C'mon. $1.99 or more for a tiny little bunch?

Remember how it turned brown before you finished it off last time?

Don't make me feel like I'm alone here. Raise up those hands!

Well, I'm done with that. For one thing, it's spring, and my garden is in the process of being planted -- which reminds me that I need to water my strawberry plants tomorrow -- which means fresh basil whenever I want it all summer long. Once it matures by the end of June.

Until then, I have a new favorite treat. As with so any excessively cool things, this comes to me via Trader Joe's.

Check it out. It's perfectly chopped and measured fresh basil that's frozen. And it's less than a dollar for twenty teaspoons. I don't get that much from the bunch I buy at the store, I can guarantee that.



Aren't those cute little ice cube tray looking things? It's possible I bought this to try just because it was so cute. And yes, I got te cilantro one, too. Gotta love the extra flavors.

You can't quite see that I have one cube missing, but I do. Which means that I can attest to the yummy actual basil flavor from this -a concern before trying.

Not So Pesto

Ingredients:
2 T olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 t frozen basil
salt and pepper to taste

I made ravioli the other day but didn't feel like making sauce. I was going to do just a little brown butter -- totally easy -- except that some how, some freaky way, we were out of butter in my house. And that NEVER happens.

As I was searching through the freezer for butter, I found my forgotten little basil gems and decided to put some basil on my ravioli. Which then turned into warming oil to melt the basil. Which then turned into not so pesto -- which was totally yum.

Heat the olive oil, and add the minced garlic. Let it cook a minute or so, then add the basil cube. Stir with a spatula, and add just a tiny bit of salt and then some pepper to taste.

Were I not putting this on cheese ravioli, I probably would have also added some fresh Parm. Ok ok ok, so I forgot. It was super good without it. Even my husband was impressed, so shh don't tell him this was my lazy way out of making sauce.

This made the perfect amount for our two servings of ravioli -- just enough taste without overpowering the ravioli. And ummm yeah... it all disappeared (again) before I managed to take a picture.

And of course, as always go check out this week's Tempt My Tummy Tuesday with Blessed With Grace!

Enjoy!

PS Yes, I know that today is Cinco de Mayo. And I so should have gone with something Mexican. Oops. Next week, I promise! Or go check out my Spanish Rice or Southwest Tortilla Stacker.

Wanted!

We're in week three of t-ball. That means I've done uniform laundry twice so far. Twice. Mister Man's team is the Mets, as in the Bingham Mets of minor league fame.

And they're apparently orange. His shirt is orange. And his socks are orange.

Orange is kind of a hard color to miss -- at least in my house. And those socks are big. They literally go up to mid-thigh on him. Plus, they're really thick, wool socks, apparently because we start playing in the middle of winter around here (mid-April).

So can someone please explain why this weekend I was only able to find one hideously orange sock?



Seriously, where can the other one be? I had no idea that the laundry gnomes were this ... lacking in taste.

The worst part? What store possibly sells bright orange t-ball socks? Do you think anyone will notice if I pull the t-ball pants all the way down to his ankles next weekend?

Seriously? It's For Charity

I spent much of last week and this weekend at our local elementary school helping them set up for and run the annual rummage sale. This is a huge rummage sale, bringing in between $15K and $20K each year. People look forward to it all year.

But after the work I've put into it, my faith in humanity is a little shaken. This is a fundraiser for the school. This isn't life or death, and it certainly -- in my mind at least -- isn't worth cheating over.

And yet, cheat and lie and steal people did.

Yesterday, I went through all the shoes midway through the day and reorganized them. I matched up every shoe that the evening before had perfect matches. There were sixteen shoes now lacking a mate. In other cleanup, I found three of the missing mates tucked behind the bleachers and under racks by enterprising souls who hoped to buy the $2 shoes for half price today.

My duty in the morning was to stand near the toy table to ensure that no one opened the bags and rebagged the $1 per bag toys or changed prices. To everyone's surprise (this was the first year they'd stationed someone at the table), I didn't catch anyone doing anything like this. Instead, people were caught in the back of the gym opening bags and stuffing as many Barbies in them as they could instead of paying the $1 per bag. And the $2 stickers for some of the nicer toys were littered on the floor.

I sorted through the jeans to straighten out the piles after the morning rush, only to find nice clothes thrust under the piles in the hopes that no one would find them. The same thing happened when I started returning items to the belt and socks and hat bins.

Even during setup, we weren't immune. As I would price one section, I'd notice a random box under a table and discover items that someone had put away for themselves. And at the worker presale -- for those of us who put in at least eight hours during setup -- people showed up who hadn't done one iota of work and then pulled out the items that other people had hidden for them.

Today was the bag sale. At the entrance, you bought a bag for $5 and could fill it. If you had more items than fit in the bag, you had to go back to the entrance and buy a new bag -- no stashing things and then buying bags later in an effort to be fair to everyone. You don't want to know the giant boxes I saw being filled with no regard paid to the workers requesting that they follow the rules.

C'mon, people. Do you really need this stuff? Is it worth cheating over? Do you feel better about yourself for having done so?

I know that I felt like I needed a shower by the time I left.

Was It Us?

Last night, we went to one of our favorite festivals of the year -- the Long Grove Chocolate Festival. It's pretty much what it sounds like: a festival devoted to all things chocolate.

Of course, they have the requisite kiddie rides that the wee ones love and the random vendors, but they also have things like donuts on a stick dipped in chocolate. And cocoa apple pies (yes, I bought a small one, and no, I haven't tried it yet). And chocolate martinis. And chocolate fondue fountains. And a chocolate fashion show.

We usually go on Friday mornings when it opens and wander until we're done. This year, I had to be at Little Miss's preschool -- twenty minutes in the opposite direction of my house -- by 11:15, so we went in the late afternoon. And I discovered that the vendors pretty much close up shop at 5:30 instead of 6pm when it officially ends.

We hadn't eaten dinner by the time we realized it was shutting down, so my husband walked ahead with Little Miss, and she picked out a restaurant for us to eat at. My complaint was that a sit down restaurant with two overtired and hungry children was not the best idea.

I was overruled, and we walked into Victoria's.

We were the only patrons there. For most of us, it's easy to find something to eat, but Little Miss is trickier with her dairy allergy. In talking to the cook and the waitress, we finally agreed that she would just eat nacho chips with chicken and tomatoes on top. Picky girl overruled a few other more "normal" options.

As my husband's soup and father's salad arrived, we were still the only patrons.

It finally dawned on me the likely reason. Victoria's is a Mexican restaurant. Although it's the weekend of Cinco de Mayo, no one's really eating in Mexican restaurants right now. In fact, the local paper called our publicity chair on Thursday to confirm that we were still having our Cinco de Mayo event at the preschool.

Yep, that swine flu has everyone paranoid.

On the plus side, it was rather nice to not have to worry that the wee ones were periodically forgetting their inside voices. And the service was great, not to mention the yummy food.

Not Today

I'm blessed with the wee ones. They may get in trouble from time to time, but they're overall good kids. They've never been super shy or clingy, and I've seen and heard horror stories about that from friends of mine.

I remember the first day of two year old preschool for Little Miss (and keep in mind she is 25 months and 2 days old at this point). We met for one hour, and the parents stayed in the classroom to better help their kids adjust.

The kids came shyly into the classroom -- except for Little Miss who bounded in -- and ran off to play with the toys, after some encouragement from their moms. After a few minutes, the child would run back to mom to just check in or to pull her over to the toy the child was playing with. This occurred over and over again during the hour we spent there.

I know this, because I spent the entire hour watching it happen. I was uninterrupted in my survey of the moms with their children, as Little Miss didn't so much as look in my direction the entire class period.

When it was time to go, she cheerfully came with me and told me about her playing, but for whatever reason, she didn't need to check with me while I was there in the room.

Preschool this year is much the same. She ran to the bus her first day of school, and happily chatters the whole way there. Her bus drivers always remark about how happy she is.

Today, we had our first taste of the alternative. As Papa John (her new bus driver) pulled into the driveway, I hustled Little Miss towards her shoes.

But I don't want to go to school?

I looked at her in shock. She chose that moment to scuttle away from me and into the playroom.

What do you mean you don't want to go to school? Why not?

She looked at me soulfully. I don't want to go. I just want to stay here with you today.

Oh, it was tempting. What a sweet little angel who just wanted to spend some more time with her mommy. My heart started to melt.

Then I remembered this is my devious child who wraps everyone around her finger and pushes things to the limit just to see what she can get away with.

Sorry, Peanut. It's a school day, but I'll see you as soon as preschool gets over.

The tears came, and I had to drag her outside and onto the bus. Once she was strapped into her carseat, she was ok although still subdued. And yes, even Papa John noticed.

She got off fine, but I felt badly. I couldn't imagine going through that or worse on a daily basis, and I know there are so many parents who do. Today, I'm counting my blessings!