Need a new hobby? This one's a cinch. If you've never tried it, you're really missing out on some fun. The professionals like to portray cheesemaking as truly serious business, akin to winemaking. But I discovered recipes for both mozzarella and feta completely by accident.
Recipe for Feta (Makes 0-4 servings, depending on your taste for it.)
Take 1 sippy cup. Fill with milk. Give to toddler. After toddler drinks half the milk and tosses cup under the coffee table, leave it there.
Three days later, move coffee table to do pilates video. Discover sippy cup. Take to kitchen and open carefully. The feta should be ready. Store in sippy cup in refrigerator if you don't want to clean cup right away.
Feta cheese goes well in salads.
Recipe for Mozzarella (Makes 0-2 servings. This recipe works best in very warm weather.)
Fill 2 sippy cups with milk. Give to children as you leave the house to run errands. (Come home, put away groceries, make lunch, check e-mail, get toddler down for nap, play games with older child.) One day later, go out to car for missing Bionicle. Note smell. This means your cheese is probably ready. Dig sippy cups out of the bottom of backseat floor, take inside. Drain liquid from sippy cups. Slab of mozzarella should come out next.
Mozzarella is a staple in Italian recipes, though I haven't actually tasted this version. Maybe your cat will want it.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Look! Look!
Isn't the new design gorgeous?!! Laura at Ciao! My Bella! is THE BEST!! (Can you tell I'm excited?) So please, stay, look around, enjoy! I'm going to go finish a few details of my own...
Friday, July 08, 2005
Sanity is for children.
It occurred to me at the dinner table tonight that my children have reached a milestone. This milestone is not one included in the usual Baby Book List Of Incredible Things Your Child Will Do and The Exact Date He/She Should Do Them.
No, the milestone my 4.25 and 2.75 year-old children have reached is usually not talked about at all, much less included in the What To Expect series of Know-It-All parenting books. Perhaps because it's more humiliating than the grave possibility of your child NOT WALKING AT HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY.
Fortunately, neither of my boys were walking by their first birthdays, so I've had lots of time to recover from the realization that some things can't be predicted by books. Nonetheless, this new milestone was not something I expected to happen until at least their preteen years.
What is it, you ask? My children... KNOW THAT I AM CRAZY. Yes, yes, there have been lots of clues, and they're not stupid, of course. So the simple fact that they are aware of my delusions is not really news. What struck me at the dinner table tonight is that they have ACCEPTED my obvious mental illness.
See, here's what happened. Scott and I decided to finally watch "National Treasure" this afternoon, since the DVD was due back at the store tonight, and in five days we hadn't managed to see it. But we started the movie pretty late, and had to pause a gazillion times due to inference from some Very Loud Children, so dinner got started a bit late. Also, while Scott was barbecuing chicken, and I was trying to make taboule salad, the boys needed to be chased and eaten by Mommy Dino several times. By 6:30, the chicken was getting cold on the counter, the onions, cilantro and bell peppers still needed to be chopped, and Mommy Dino was getting hungry for more than just Baby Dinos.
When we finally sat down to eat dinner, the Mommy Formerly Known as Lots O' Fun suddenly turned into Raving Lunatic Mommy. This is how it went:
Family sits down to table, hands are held, thanks are given. Fly wanders into dining room, lands on boy's bread. Suddenly, Raving Lunatic Mommy appears.
She pounds on the table by boy's plate, shouting loudly, "GO AWAY, FLY!!" Fly remains on plate, unperturbed by shouting or pounding.
RLM goes hysterical. "AAAAHHHHH!!!! I SAID 'GO AWAY"!!! GET OFF HIS FOOD!!!!" she shrieks, and slaps boy's bread with her hand. Fly slowly meanders off, rolling his many eyes at his inept attacker.
After an awkward moment, Lots O' Fun returns to the table, wondering what just happened. She looks up to see her sons viewing her with mild curiosity, but mostly undisturbed patience. One boy glances at the fly still working its way to the kitchen. The other takes a bite of his broccoli.
"Mommy just went a little crazy, didn't she?" their father notes. Both boys nod, and continue to eat their dinner.
Do you see what I mean? They didn't laugh. They knew I wasn't trying to be funny.
Do you see why this is so important?! No longer do my out-of-whack emotions have any power over my children! No longer can I throw a fit in order to get my own way! My children see right through me! They know I am crazy, and they remain as unperturbed by it as that DAMN FLY!
This new psychological milestone of theirs has two consequences. First, as I mentioned, there will be no more Manipulation via Tantrum, which has been useful in so many emergency situations, such as when I absolutely HAVE to go to Starbucks. Second -- and this is the GOOD thing -- it means that they are at least somewhat secure in their knowledge of my love for them, and that my chances of completely screwing them up are finally lessoning.
Praise God for his unending mercy and undying sense of humor. Raving Lunatic Mommy may return, but at least she can do little damage.
No, the milestone my 4.25 and 2.75 year-old children have reached is usually not talked about at all, much less included in the What To Expect series of Know-It-All parenting books. Perhaps because it's more humiliating than the grave possibility of your child NOT WALKING AT HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY.
Fortunately, neither of my boys were walking by their first birthdays, so I've had lots of time to recover from the realization that some things can't be predicted by books. Nonetheless, this new milestone was not something I expected to happen until at least their preteen years.
What is it, you ask? My children... KNOW THAT I AM CRAZY. Yes, yes, there have been lots of clues, and they're not stupid, of course. So the simple fact that they are aware of my delusions is not really news. What struck me at the dinner table tonight is that they have ACCEPTED my obvious mental illness.
See, here's what happened. Scott and I decided to finally watch "National Treasure" this afternoon, since the DVD was due back at the store tonight, and in five days we hadn't managed to see it. But we started the movie pretty late, and had to pause a gazillion times due to inference from some Very Loud Children, so dinner got started a bit late. Also, while Scott was barbecuing chicken, and I was trying to make taboule salad, the boys needed to be chased and eaten by Mommy Dino several times. By 6:30, the chicken was getting cold on the counter, the onions, cilantro and bell peppers still needed to be chopped, and Mommy Dino was getting hungry for more than just Baby Dinos.
When we finally sat down to eat dinner, the Mommy Formerly Known as Lots O' Fun suddenly turned into Raving Lunatic Mommy. This is how it went:
Family sits down to table, hands are held, thanks are given. Fly wanders into dining room, lands on boy's bread. Suddenly, Raving Lunatic Mommy appears.
She pounds on the table by boy's plate, shouting loudly, "GO AWAY, FLY!!" Fly remains on plate, unperturbed by shouting or pounding.
RLM goes hysterical. "AAAAHHHHH!!!! I SAID 'GO AWAY"!!! GET OFF HIS FOOD!!!!" she shrieks, and slaps boy's bread with her hand. Fly slowly meanders off, rolling his many eyes at his inept attacker.
After an awkward moment, Lots O' Fun returns to the table, wondering what just happened. She looks up to see her sons viewing her with mild curiosity, but mostly undisturbed patience. One boy glances at the fly still working its way to the kitchen. The other takes a bite of his broccoli.
"Mommy just went a little crazy, didn't she?" their father notes. Both boys nod, and continue to eat their dinner.
Do you see what I mean? They didn't laugh. They knew I wasn't trying to be funny.
Do you see why this is so important?! No longer do my out-of-whack emotions have any power over my children! No longer can I throw a fit in order to get my own way! My children see right through me! They know I am crazy, and they remain as unperturbed by it as that DAMN FLY!
This new psychological milestone of theirs has two consequences. First, as I mentioned, there will be no more Manipulation via Tantrum, which has been useful in so many emergency situations, such as when I absolutely HAVE to go to Starbucks. Second -- and this is the GOOD thing -- it means that they are at least somewhat secure in their knowledge of my love for them, and that my chances of completely screwing them up are finally lessoning.
Praise God for his unending mercy and undying sense of humor. Raving Lunatic Mommy may return, but at least she can do little damage.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
It's good to have friends.
Two visits to the mall is usually my maximum for the year, with exceptions for occasional haircuts. This week I got to go two days in a row, thanks to a cell phone cover that didn't fit, and the fact that I forgot to get an urgent birthday present during the first trip.
Upon returning home, I discovered a party had begun in my absence. My husband, wine glass in hand, was seated on the loveseat next to a homeschooling friend of mine, also garnished with a drink. She'd come to see our piano, which we're trying to sell. Her 18-year-old son was playing Halo 2 with our 7-year-old neighbor. The neighbor's sister was in the playroom with two other little girls, both of whom were naked. My eldest was perched on the couch between the older boys watching the game; and his brother was somewhere amidst all the girls. As I entered, a baby cried out and reached for me. The mother of the baby and his siblings, and the father of the naked girls were not in sight.
So, of course, I dropped my bags, picked up the baby, and refilled wine glasses. Unfortunately, I was needed in the playroom before I could pour one for myself. In fact, I didn't get to pee for another hour-and-a-half. By that time, most of the aforementioned guests were gone, and new ones had arrived.
Just yesterday I'd been thinking that I needed to see more of my friends; I haven't been very good about making actual plans lately. A day of spontaneous socializing was just what I needed.
At four o'clock, my 2-year-old finally got his 2-hour nap, and then we headed out for more socializing to celebrate Carla's birthday with pizza, salad and ball pits.
Tomorrow we're going to attempt haircuts again, this time at a new salon just for kids.
Upon returning home, I discovered a party had begun in my absence. My husband, wine glass in hand, was seated on the loveseat next to a homeschooling friend of mine, also garnished with a drink. She'd come to see our piano, which we're trying to sell. Her 18-year-old son was playing Halo 2 with our 7-year-old neighbor. The neighbor's sister was in the playroom with two other little girls, both of whom were naked. My eldest was perched on the couch between the older boys watching the game; and his brother was somewhere amidst all the girls. As I entered, a baby cried out and reached for me. The mother of the baby and his siblings, and the father of the naked girls were not in sight.
So, of course, I dropped my bags, picked up the baby, and refilled wine glasses. Unfortunately, I was needed in the playroom before I could pour one for myself. In fact, I didn't get to pee for another hour-and-a-half. By that time, most of the aforementioned guests were gone, and new ones had arrived.
Just yesterday I'd been thinking that I needed to see more of my friends; I haven't been very good about making actual plans lately. A day of spontaneous socializing was just what I needed.
At four o'clock, my 2-year-old finally got his 2-hour nap, and then we headed out for more socializing to celebrate Carla's birthday with pizza, salad and ball pits.
Tomorrow we're going to attempt haircuts again, this time at a new salon just for kids.
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