Roast Beast

Whenever I see a table set for Christmas dinner, I think of that last seen of Jim Carey's The Grinch and comment to myself, "The Grinch, himself, carved the roast beast."

Watching my daughter eat Christmas dinner, I realized that she loves stuffing. I hate stuffing. Andy doesn't like stuffing... really. He'll eat it. I don't stuff turkey's and my sentiment has been affirmed by the Food Network's Alton Brown. Apparently my mother makes a wonderful stuffing. I don't eat stuffing (on the principle that bread should not be soggy unless it's headed down the disposal) so I couldn't tell you about the quality of her stuffing although there are many people who have informed me that it's the best stuffing they have ever eaten.

I love it when someone tells you that they are going to make something you don't like in a way that will change your mind about the thing you don't like. It will make you love that thing you don't like. For instance, a lady once told me that I would love her version of brussel sprouts (which I abhore!) which she soaked in buttermilk, battered, and deep fried and then dipped in a mayonnaise sauce. I countered that taking the nutritional value out of something by battering, deep frying and slathering with mayo is going to make anything taste good. This did not change my opinion of brussel sprouts but affirmed my love of southern cooking.

I wonder what would happen if you battered and deep fried stuffing... I'm sure Paula Dean would approve.

Baby Hopes

Before you hear this story, you have to understand that my nephew is the smallest little guy you have ever seen. He's off the charts under size but totally proportionate. He is also a little brother and loves to copy his older sibling. My oldest nephew is almost totally potty trained and has been "going" in the potty for a while. The baby has been watching and now that he's old enough to indicate some of his wants, he decided today that he wanted to be like big brother, Grandpa, Uncle Andy and Uncle Josh and wear big boy underwear. Mom put it on over his onsie and diaper and he was a happy camper. He marched around showing off his big boyness all over the house and let me tell you, with all those layers he probably put on several extra ounces. At nap time, I asked the older boy to hit the head and little brother followed after indicating that he also wanted to pee in the potty. He's to short for any of the stools to even help him get his stuff up over the edge of the seat so I held him up high. He put a foot right in the bowl. After cleaning off the misplaced foot, I just sat him down. He was the happiest kid in the world. I asked if he was done and he nodded his head, a huge triumphant smile on his little face. I checked to see if there was anything in the potty. Nothing. Not a drop, but that kid was so happy. He got a new diaper, the onsie and back on with the big boy underwear and pants. He's sleeping happily, knowing that he has conquered the potty... almost.

FREEDOM!

After having babies, I have learned that you lose your freedom and it is given back to you in stages. Similar to being on parole or something. Not that having babies is like being in prison but... oh, who am I kidding. It's exactly like being in prison. You can't leave your place of residence without significant difficulty, the screaming keeps you awake, the food looks like slop and you can't change the channel off PBS Kids.

Anyway, your freedom comes back. Just very slowly. At some point, the baby starts to sleep in their own bed and you can roll over without the fear that you are going to crush them. Then the baby starts to crawl meaning you don't have to hold them all the time and you can have your hands back sometimes. Then they stop breastfeeding (if they ever were) and you have your boobs back (at least for feeding... they will always be pillows for everyone in your family). This is usually followed by them learning fairly quickly how to feed themselves (and I don't mean the crap they find on the floor although I'm sure they could survive on that just fine.) Walking frees you up even more and that last little bit... potty training. The ultimate freedom is when you don't have to deal with people's excrement all day, every day. Ah, freedom... I can't wait. My release date (baring any other pregnancies) The last day of Cate's potty training. To celebrate that day (in the oh, so distant future) I am buying a big screen TV for my bedroom on which I will watch whatever the heck I want!

All Veggied Out

This family has been sick in one way or another for a month now. It's hard to be sick with little kids because they depend on you for everything. You can't tell your toddler to go get themselves something to eat. You can't expect them to do a whole lot of entertaining themselves. If you are sick, they are watching TV so you can rest. If they are sick, there is more TV while they rest. When your husband is sick, you are wiped out from taking care of everything and everyone and there is more TV to pacify them and hope that their brain isn't mush.

Everyday for a month now, Abby has gotten up and been parked in front of the TV for Veggietales. This morning, everyone is well! Can you believe it? I can't...

She comes into my room this morning at 6 and I think, 'I'm not going to be well after this. How is it possible that the baby stays up until midnight and then the 2 year old gets up a 6?!'

I hear her little sing-song voice, "Mommy, I ready to watch Beytales. (She still doesn't say veggie...)" That's when I knew I was in trouble. This is what she thinks her life is about. Veggietales. Clifford. Thomas the Train. When did these characters become a part of our lives? When we were sleeping, that's when.

Time for the intervention. I'm cutting her off. It's going to be a long hard road to recovery with her. We are going to have to deal with the withdraw and the screaming that goes with it but hopefully, after all that is through, she will know there is more to life than vegetables.