No tears meatloaf

A couple of days ago I mentioned how well my meatloaf when over in my house so I thought I would share it with you. Since if the lack of it drove my daughter to tears I’m must be doing something right.  Maybe as a cook, but not as mother.

Needed:

one pound pork sausage ( or you can get ground pork and add garlic, salt and fennel)

One pound ground beef ( The fatter the better.  A store near here has 27% fat ground beef, perfect)

One egg

Splash of water

salt, pepper

1/2 onion, chopped

1 big or two small cloves of garlic, chopped

One carrot, diced.

1 tablespoon of butter

1/3 of breadcrumbs ( I use store bought.  Homemade are great, but I’m not that ambitious)

1/3 cup of ketchup

I always mean to have worcester sauce in this, but haven’t yet and it’s worked out well, so maybe I’ll let go of that dream.

Here is how it all comes together, the food and the family.

 

Mad dream

You know those dreams that seem so real they are hard to shake?  Last night I had one and I was going to clobber my husband in the morning, except that Rex’s body was half draped across his. Nice the boy protects his father.

I get up hours before Mark does so I had had coffee and breakfast and was able to calm down enough to tell him about my dream.

“We didn’t have any kids yet and you hadn’t lost your money yet. We had just gotten married and where staying a fancy hotel, but you also had an Asian girlfriend.”

Mark, ” I like where this dream is going.”

“No, it was a terrible dream, because on our first day of marriage you told me that tomorrow me and your young daughter-”

“Daughter?”

“Yeah, Oliver was a girl.”

“Named Oliva?”

Exasperated, “She didn’t have a name I was just going to have to mind her while spent a night with your Asian girlfriend.  I was fuming and you didn’t see anything wrong with it.”

“I have a lot of nerve.”

“Yes, you do.  I was bathed in expensive clothes and jewelery and then it occurred to me that I could leave you.  I didn’t have kids with you and I would leave you.  I walked in to the closet where you were and told you so.  You still didn’t get why I wasn’t okay with this arrangement and then I screamed, “who do you think I am ___ ____”  I screamed the name of a women my father had a very icky relationship with that adversely affected my family of origin.

“You were really angry.”  Mark said.

Then I let him have his first cup of coffee.

On the way to school Vivien asked if I had put the meatloaf I had made for dinner the night before in her lunch as she had asked.

“Oh, sweetie, daddy ate the last of it.  But, today is taco day!” normally a winner.  Not today.

“Waaa, I wanted the meatloaf!”  I had a brief thrill that she was so excited about my meatloaf.  But, she was now spiraling down a sensitive little girl path that meant dropping her off at school would not go smoothly.  I called Mark.

“You ate all of the meatloaf, right?”  He had.  The phone was on speaker so he could hear the sobs.  Yes, he had actually done something wrong for real. Well, eating dinner in his own home when he is hungry might not qualify, but it would have to do.

I assured her I would make the loaf of wonder again tonight.

As good as it is, I hope it doesn’t give me bad dreams.

MORE inappropriate sandwich shape

My mind drifts as I make my kids sandwiches for their school lunch.  I started off thinking I would make a little girl sandwich.

 

But, then I keep going.  What if the girl then stuck her finger in an electrical socket?

 

 

Or, when she grows up, goes to college and parties a little hard.  This would be her sleeping off a bender.

 

At least I did stop myself from making a sandwich that showed what that girl did that night and with what!

 

 

 

Should kids go to Hooters?

Recently a mom friend told me that before an action movie that she was taking her sons to they would eat with friends at Hooters.

What?

“Yeah, some people have a problem with it she said.  But, my kids ( about 7 and 9yrs) like to play the basketball game there and they eat the food.”

“Well, maybe they don’t notice the girls in the tight t shirts.”  I said trying to be knee jerk supportive.   Then I thought of how early guys have told me they began masturbating.  Farrah Fawcett posters, etc.   But, hey, that’s not bad, part of life, right?

Now, I know I wouldn’t take my daughter into a Hooters because I don’t want her to get the message that she should be an ornamental woman.  There are enough messages of that left all over the world for her to see, so I’m not going to accelerate that.

I’m also a food snob, so I would have to be roadtripping for hours, super hungry and have to pee to go into a Hooters solo. Chicken wings, burgers formulaic food is not my bag.

But, would I take a boy in there? NOW ( National Organization for Women for those of you who weren’t brought up going to their rallies as I was) takes issue with Hooter’s catering to kids.  The business model of Hooters, is pretty crass.  Do men and boys like sexy girls?yes.  Should that be stopped?  No.  But, I would very uncomfortable being with my son in that atmosphere.  On Parent Dish I found out that they have Hooter gear for kids! Blech.  A parent who would buy their little girl a Hooters shirt might be a candidate for a visit from child protective services. (Check out this photo from Esquire.  I hesitated to even share, except it was already posted.  My compromise is not putting it here.)  Young boy does not look happy at Hooters.

Okay, sorry, my hippie feminist upbringing that strives to be non judgemental was just trumped by my hippie feminist upbringing side that use to spell women with a “Y”.   I think I would rather take my son to a lesbian, socialist coffeehouse than a Hooters.  Than I’m at least supporting a small business owner.

 

 

what a mom blogger looks like bloggin

I was trying to edit a quick vid and Rex had rightly had enough of “Mike the Knight”.

“I’m almost done Rex”

My mom told me I could be creative as a mom as long as I could handle interuptions.  She didn’t mention the jungle gym part.

But, even when he is pulling my his little hand covering my face I sigh.  I love his little hands.

Best “momhandling”.  

Working from home.  Hard.

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.

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 Embedded Video
Download Video ">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!

 

 

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.