The Mother shoe has landed

This video was done MONTHS ago.  My dear friend Michelle shot it and then had to move, and well, you know what happens when you move. Mayhem.

It was inspired by a call from The Walking Company.  “Would you like to try a pair of our shoes? We have a Dansko Pro XP that are exclusive to us that have generated quite a bit of buzz ”  You mean the shoes that back when I was single I wouldn’t be caught dead in?  The shoes that my husband the professional chef wore for years because he works on his feet all day?  HAND THEM OVER!   Provident because my infamous red clogs had gone missing.

Watch the vid, enjoy, it’s fun.  And let me say.  The Danskos are now an integral part of my life.  Comfy, give me a little height, perfect for mom on the go!

NOTE:  the only think I don’t like about this vlog is my slatternly appearance.  Michelle is such a nice person she doesn’t see when I look like a train wreck.

Why is Mitt Romney writing me?

Maybe he watched Radio Daphne where I said I had dream we were going to hook up.  Was that it?  Did his people confuse me with a Mormon mom blogger.  Hmm, probably not, they don’t talk about hooking up.

Well, Mitt wrote me, personally.  He even sent a picture! Yes, Mitt I do believe in America! But, I’m pro choice liberal, so how did you get my address Mitt?  He seems like a nice man, except for that cutting the kids hair off in high school, firing a bunch of people and talking out of both sides of his mouth ( note to self, look up definition of ‘nice person’)  I can’t figure out what list I’m on with my full name, even middle, that Mitt used to send me this lovely man in front of barn with flag picture.  Nothing says America like denim and distressed wood.  The symbolism of the empty farm equipment is sending a message as well.  “America is out of work.” But, Mitt’s going to fire up that tractor and get us back to work!

Mark is a former Mormon and over the years sometimes the nice men in white shirts and ties knock on our door to ask him to return to the church of his youth.  They have ways of finding you… they are great at genealogy, Is that how I got this?

Look, am I better off than I was 4 years ago? That would be a NO.  Do I think Obama is more likely to fix the economy than Romney?  Probably not.  I tend to think that the neither is going to make a big dent, except we do need health care reform and we don’t need to roll back “Obama care “( Mitt care).  As a small business owner that provides health care coverage it would be better for us if everyone had to do provide and everyone had to participate. HIgher taxes, drag on economy, cutting entitlements, drag on economy.  We are kind of  screwed.

 

In 2004 and 2008 I traveled to other states and knocked on doors for the Dems.  Will I do that now? No, I’m not.  I’m busy, underemployed and a tad discouraged.  But, my line in the sand is the Supreme Court.  This court has enraged me plenty. Bush V. Gore, and most recently the stupid decision ( Citizen’s United) to allow unfettered money from corporations into politics (can hear Mitt from the barn, “corporations are people too”).  I think Mitt would appoint judges that would bug me.

But, thanks for thinking of me Mitt.

A post breast feeding song

So, this seems like a great comedic coda to the Time Magazine boob-ha-ha.  These gals, Comediva,  are totally my food group.  I just can’t play a guitar or sing that well, as evidenced by my Butt Problem anthem.  They did a funny video with song about what breast feeding has done to their body.  Enjoy!  ( click here for song)

Happy Mothers day.

 

The Time Breast feeding cover

 

 

This picture sums it up. What sells where. What they can get away with where.

I’m less concerned about my kids seeing this picture in the grocery store than the “look whose fat and has cellulite” tabloid crap by the chewing gum.  Those are body disorder makers. Also, this seems like another tool to get woman to gang up on each other.  Whether a woman breast feeds or not or for how long is no ones business.

I loved breastfeeding both of my kids.  My daughter about 2.2 years when we stopped.  My son was about 2. 5 years.

I do think that when a kid gets bigger it’s best to breast feeding private because everyone freaks out.  But, when my kids were little I always whipped at my breast as needed like a Russian peasant.  That is what they are there for.

Also, I disagree with the idea from Time that “Dr. Sears remade motherhood.”  But, if you have a big enough bed why not?  Rex sleeps with us almost every night.  I love it.  I have a teenage stepson so I know the time will come when he doesn’t want to eat dinner with us, let alone cuddle.

Besides, I’m married, it’s not like we have sex…much.

Later I did a video on this.

 

Brussel Sprout breakfast

I’m a Brussel Sprout fanatic.  Side dish with dinner, a lunch salad with smoked trout.  Now, it’s even part of my favorite breakfast.

What you need for this:

2 eggs

Brussel Sprouts – 2 chopped lengthwise

onion- 2 tablespoon, small diced

cooked bacon – 1 slice into lardons

dried oregeno- pinch

salt and pepper

Half and half- just a splash

Cook the bacon till crisp, chewy, set asidein the bacon fat saute the onions and  Brussel Sprouts.  Takes a little longer than my usual left over from dinner broccoli, but if I have made lunches the night before I have time.  both should get softer and carmelize.  Add Salt , tiny bit.

Reduce heat and crack the two eggs right in there. Add a pinch of dried Oregano. Get your fork and start swirling.  Most people over cook eggs.  When almost done, just soft add a tablespoon of half and half.  Turn off the fire, put the bacon back in and fork it up in the ( hopefully) iron pan.  Quickly plate, little freshly ground pepper at the end.

Rex likes to climb up on the counter and “help” which is tough when I’ve moved the hot pan portion of cooking, but I make things up or he has a fit.

Like most of my creations, it may not be pretty, but it’s tasty!

 

 

My butt problem

Agony plus times equals comedy?  Yeah, well I jumped the time part.  This has been going on for me for a few days.  First I only told my husband, then my kids had to know.  “Why is mommy going to bed before us with bourbon and a hot compress?”

Now, I’m telling the world. While I filmed this the pain was still great.  But, like other hardships in my life, losing all our money, stuff like that, all I can do is find the humor ( that and crawl into the fetal position in my closet and cry).

The whole point is I’m not alone, right?  We are the world that can help each other

update: Yes, I know you have been very concerned with my butt.  So after I shot this video went to a dermatologist and had to lie on my tummy while he examined my butt cheek. As painfully embarrassing as this was it was made easier by the doctor who said, “I have had this” ( he begged me not to use his real name).  It was not a zit, but a cyst.  Infected. Gnarly.  Shots, cutting, another shot and I have to go back for more butt cheek treatment in a couple of days. The nurse who bandaged me up said, “I had this a couple of months ago.” What?  Never knew these butt cheek cysts were so rampant.  According to Dr. “Smith” they are common because it’s “a dirty place”.  I usually hover over toilets when I’m in public, but I think I will try to hover at home as well.

But, the message of ballad is even more important.  Had I not gotten over my embarrassment and sought medical treatment the doctor said I could have end up in the ER.

How a son gets lost

…it’s when I try to have any social life.  When I venture beyond the grocery store, pharmacy, park shuffle of regular routine.  This is when it happens. My husband works a lot and most nights, so my dates are usually a 6 and 3 year old for fun stuff.

Now, I believe in letting my kids feel independent and explore their surroundings without me hovering.  But, that is for our yard. Which is large, so they can feel like they are on a hike in the backyard without a helicopter parent on them.  I allow them to play without KNOWN direct supervision.  They frolic in their imaginary world, I keep the front door open and my computer faces out so I can monitor.  

Much like my dad would “give in” when we wanted to go trick or treating with just our friends.
“Ok have fun”.

We trundled off in the kind of costumes that would now probably go up in flames on the dark residential street.  When we turned around my dad and his friend George ( another dad) would duck behind the car.  We liked the balance of faux independence.

This parenting theory of mine has been GREATLY challenged by my 3 year old boy.  Last week we ran into a friend of Vivien’s from school and her mom at an outdoor mall.  While the mom and I talked  the three kids ran around and around…as in a circle. Suddenly, the circle broke off and in a flash they vanished.  I mean not a trace.  The other mom went in one direction, I in the other.  Time moves very slowly when you can’t find your children in a public place, but I think it was 5 minutes before I saw them again.  She had found them in the The Gap.  The girls listened to us to stay in on the lawn while Rex went charging off again.  I picked him up and got down to his level.

“Rex, you cannot run away so far that  mommy can’t see you.”  He started to laugh.

“It’s not funny” I started to cry, which made Vivien start to cry. ” You can run around me, but not away from me.”  Now I’m consoling Vivien and I’m thinking the other mom thinks I’m a basket case.  Whatever.

Cut, to last weekend.  I have become so incredibly unhip.  So, once in a while if I can be exposed to something cool and current that doesn’t involve a porta potty I’m all over it.

Transmission LA was that occasion.  Our friends who operate the famous Kogi bbqtrucks (delish) were parking their trucks at this art event at the Geffen at the Museum of Contemporary Art.  It was curated by Mike D of the Beastie Boys.  Because we were “on a list”  The kids and I were able to bypass the long line, have tacos in our hand and then sit at the outdoor rainbow dining tables in short order.

not in the mood for a picture

I gorged myself on the food.  Viv ate hers and Rex would not sit down or eat.  But, again I could see him rant around in a space that was free of cars.

Then we went into the exhibit.  It was a big white space with large rooms where one could interact with the art. Ah, perfect for kids!  The colored wheels were my favorite.  I still had to remind them to not touch, but that’s cool.  When we looked at another site with neon posts. I asked Vivien, what do you think the artist is trying to say here? Neither of  us had an answer, but we both dug it.Later, she got it and came up with a theory about the artist’s intent on another exhibit (there were butterflies), but we were all a bit stymied by the cartoon of Popeye by Takeshi Murata being so downtrodden by losing his job, the death of Olive Oyl and Pee Wee that he hung himself and then drown off in a gold car to Rush’s ” Tom Sawyer”. Rex asked, “what is happening to Popeye?” I said, the artist has a comedic ironic take on an icon.  I thought, is Popeye in the public domain? No copyright issues?

Vivien enjoyed the music coordinated with flashes of light over a Mercedes Benz ( yes, they sponsored )  Then we went through a tunnel of light and came in to a room that looked like a cartoon. It was overwhelming to the senses and made us feel like we were in a cartoon. Sidebar, if you ever considered doing psychedelic drugs, skip it and pop into this room. I could see Viv..
He was just here…Now, he was gone.

“Vivien, where is Rex?”  We ran out the door he had gone before.  Not there.  I looked up and down.  I ran to the security guard.  “I’ve lost my son.  He is 3 years old. Grey shirt, dark blonde hair.”  The lady immediately started talking to her counterparts on the radio which made me feel better.  They will find him.  This place is lousy with security.  But, then would if one of these hipsters in a Fu Manchu stache is a bad person.  No one would hear screams in this noisy place.  I ran out thinking, “he would want to go through the tunnel again.  I ran into the neon post room. That security guard didn’t have a radio.

“My son is missing.” I gave a description again and ran with with Vivien trailing.  Down one tunnel, then another.  Pushing people out of the way, “I’m sorry, please let me by my son is missing.” I pleaded.

Then we went into another tunnel of light.

A guy in a blazer, “are you looking for your son?

“yes.”

“He went that way” Pointing into the cartoon room.  I really hoped it was my kid as their were other kids.  We walked out of the tunnel and there was Rex in the middle of the cartoon room starting to cry.  The female security guard who had gotten on the radio was with him.

Vivien and I dropped to the floor and embraced him.  “were you scared Rex?”

“Mommy, where were you?”

“Sweetie, I’m here, please stay by mommy.  Please.  Let’s go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“then you have to hold my hand”

I wish I had riches.  I would have a manny who always trailed him in public places.

The security guard lady had found him running back into the room and had grabbed his hand. “Some man told me ‘don’t treat that child like that.’  I said, His mommy is looking for him.”  She told me this twice so I think she felt a little insecure about her move.

“Thank you for doing that.  You did the right thing. I’m glad you grabbed his hand.”  Nice a stranger is in to kids rights, but you know anarchy stops being cool when people are looting? Sometimes you want the fuzz.

We wondered outside after a little running around more modern art that we didn’t understand.  The DJ Diplo was playing ( briefly thought they meant Duplo the lego like toy, yes, that’s why I need to get out) . Strange things the kids today are doing.  They stand up right by the DJ, like a band.  I thought that odd.  We found my friends and I told them “Rex was missing for 6 minutes.”  Was it?  Was it three, four? I don’t know, too long.   I  thanked them for hipping me up and then exited.

There were porta potties, but I waited till I got home. I had been traumatized enough.

Not that I’m getting one, but I now understand the people with leashes. My daughter was not a bolter.  Rex is.  I still want to take them out and do cool things, but I have to be far more vigilant with this guy.

Fish Night : cooking for the family

Here is another of my super simple and tasty meals that can be made well even if there are interruptions, which with a house of kids is about as common as an avocado going bad before you use it ( how did I not see it there?).

Petrale sole, caught wild, bought fresh so I had to make it within a couple of days of buying it.  Rice, and salad.  Does it please everyone in my family? No, Rex won’t eat fish or salad. So he got hot dog, grapes and rice.  If he was a baby I’d call that meal “choking hazard delight!”

Our family this night was myself, Viv, Rex and our neighbor gal pal ( 10 years old) Gracie.  She is far less picky than my kids so she is a delight to feed.

First, I make the rice.  Much to Chef Husband’s chagrin I, like my father before me, I love the rice in the bag.  Sorry, rice is my Achilles heel and I can’t take the time to spend 40 minutes making the kind of rice he does.  Boil in a bag of salted water and then after I drain it stir in a bunch of butter.  The kids love it, and darn it is tasty.

Meanwhile, I take the fish out and lay it on a paper towel.  Good to get the moisture out and let it rest. It’s pooped.

Then set up my work station. Flour, egg mixed with a little milk, breadcrumbs with dried oregano.

The fish goes in the flour first.  Then the egg, then the bread crumb.  After that trip through three bowl lane the fish is tired again and needs to rest.  Back to a paper towel while it all sets.  It works out better this way.  ( note: Rex’s dinner is ready to go nearby)

Then I go to the garden and pick our lettuce. Our best crop of 2012.  Wash and drain it. drizzle a little ranch dressing on it because universal truth everyone loves ranch dressing.  I’m not kidding around with oil and vinegar, little bit of ranch, not a ton, and my daughter eats salad. 

I get the plates and forks ready because the fish takes no time to make.  I heat up the pan on low with olive oil, place the sole in the pan with a little chunk of butter. Not to get all Paula Dean, but butter does make things better.  Everything.

Then I go to the backyard and yell for Gracie and Vivien to come in for dinner.  Each side of the fish takes one minute.  No more.  I ask the girls where Rex is.  They go to get him and as I am about to put the next fish in the pan I realized the yelling for him has gone on to long.  I turn off the pan.

“Where is he?”  I yell out.

The girls say they don’t know.  Visions of him hurt and unconscious in the yard  cause me to run out of the house into our back, back yard ( it’s long and large). I scream his name with no response.  Then  I find Rex looking downcast, sitting by himself by the fence in the wood chips.

“Rex, are you feeling sad?”  He nods his head. I think I know what happened.

“Do you feel like the girls left you?”

“Yes, I want to play.”

“But, I called you into dinner.”

“But, I want to play.”

“It’s still early and dinner won’t take long.  Then you will still have time to play, okay?”

“Okay.”  I pick him and we walk and I explain to the girls that they need to be like the Marines and not leave a man behind.  Always bring him up with you when you come in.

Now, they are all at the counter and I make the rest of the fish.  I serve them the salad, chopped, rice and fish. Then I finish making my portion of it all and by then Rex is done and I sit down to eat ( three seats at the counter).  They had juice, I had a French Rose.

The girls clean their plate and then ask for more rice.   Success. 

4 pieces of fresh petrale sole

1/3 cup of flour

one egg

1 tablespoon of milk

salt

pepper

1/3 of a cup of breadcrumbs ( store bought)

a couple of pinches of dried oregano

olive oil

1 table-spoon of butter per two fish