The Truth is in the Pudding (Whatever that means...)

One would think that if you could bake you should be able to cook, right? How about wrong. I consider myself to be a moderately good baker. After all, I can bake pies with the best of them and my cookies aren't too bad either. But I have to admit, my cooking skills just aren't up to par. In fact, they are lagging behind. Not only can I not seem to remember to take meat out to thaw, but bringing a meal together just doesn't always happen. Like tonight, for instance....

I'm trying to clean out my fridge. I don't want any leftovers in there this weekend. It's just time to clean out all that old stuff. Yesterday we had bacon sandwiches and leftover pasta. The pasta was gross in and of itself, let alone being leftovers already. So tonight's dinner made day three of bad dinners. I had the brand idea to make split pea soup in an effort to use up some bread in the fridge. (We have several odd loaves/packages of bread in there.) Yes, make soup to use bread. Everyone knows that you are supposed to eat bread with soup. Now, I have one very distinct memory of eating split pea soup, and that memory comes from my childhood. My Mom only ever made split pea soup once, probably due to how well it was received. Us kids sat at the dinner table much longer that night as we struggled to swallow that insipid soup. The longer we sat, the more horrible the soup became... And yet, I still chose to make split pea soup for supper. I thought that maybe, just possibly in the past 15+ years, my taste buds had matured enough to appreciate the green soup delight. Unfortunately for me, they had not. Even Adam, who typically appreciates split pea soup, did not finish his serving. And poor Josh uttered his disdain for our supper at his first tiny taste. Well, it was our supper and so Adam and I toughed it out for most of our bowlfuls, but were kinder to Josh as we told him he must eat only five bites. He struggled through each bite, grimacing and shuddering and plugging his nose. He was doing so well... But we should've told him four bites. I'll leave it at that. Good thing I know how to bake. I should've gone with my first thought and just served bread pudding for supper. No worries though, I whipped up some bread pudding with blueberries in no time. I was even able to rid my fridge of one more half eaten loaf of bread, a container of cream cheese, the rest of the half and half, and a scoop or two of yogurt. I was a little concerned about all the extra stuff I was putting in the pudding, but there was no need for concern. After all, the truth is in the pudding, I can bake better than I can cook.

(PS The photo is not mine. It is from http://froggey.wordpress.com/2010/09/28/blueberry-bread-pudding-with-lemon-cream/, where I kinda followed the recipe from.)

A Proactive Approach

I feel like a big zit. Well, at least lots of little zits. About a month ago, Adam started threatening to buy me Proactive. I resisted his remarks. Then he actually ordered it. I wasn't sure whether to be appreciative or offended. I opted to be appreciative, especially since it looked as if my face had exploded. Really. It was just that bad. People have commented that I looked 16 before and now I definitely had gone back a few years. It was horrible. I went whole week without cookies and allowed myself only minimal amounts of sugar. I stopped using my moisturizer. I started using the Proactive. My face started to get better. I thought it was working. But now it has been at least 10 days with a new zit each day. I am ready to give up and throw in the towel. I ate two cookies today. I expect five new zits tomorrow. (Sugar sets me off.) I am tired of being a zit. One big fat zit.

Happy Mother's Day

Saturday morning was a stark reminder of what being a Mom was all about. At 5am, when the house was still dark and relatively quiet, I was awaken by a small voice coming from the other room. "Mommy, I have to go potty." Forgive me as I have not kept everyone up to date with the potty news in our household, but Josh has been officially potty-trained for almost a month now, night and day. He had been staying dry very regularly at nights for months, so we made the switch to underwear just before we ran out of pull-ups. So back to my story... 5am potty calls. Groggy-eyed I drag myself out of bed and into Josh's room. It was dark and I sleepily checked his legs for dampness. Yes, I was too late. He had gone in his pants. I lift him out of bed and let him walk to the bathroom so he can finish his business and we can get him into clean, dry jammies. As I pull his wet pants off, I am dismayed to find he was not only wet, but there was diarrhea everywhere. The bug that had been going around daycare the week before had finally caught up to us. And since I had let Josh walk to the bathroom, there was not only diarrhea all over Josh and in his bed, but now tracked through the bedroom carpet and in the hallway. *Note to self: Next time Josh needs me in the night, turn on the bedroom light.* This is the part where being a Mom is really no fun. The poop part. So after he gets a quick bath and some clean clothes, I send him into our bed because I am just not changing his bed sheets at 5:30 in the morning. Just. Not. Doing it. There were 6+ spots on the carpet that I did get scrubbe, at least until they looked good enough in the wee hours of the morning. The first morning rays were peeking there way into the windows by the time I climbed into bed. By then, Josh was awake enough to keep bouncing around, tossing, turning, talking and telling us about his boogers. Yes, now his nose was running like a faucets. And he was laying on my pillow. "Mommy I have boogers." Sure enough there they were, smeared across his face and onto my pillow. I grab a tissue, wipe the snot off his face, turn the pillow over so we have a clean spot to put our heads, and grumble about how now I have to wash his sheets AND our sheets in the morning. More talking, now he has his cars in the bed, tossing, kicking, turning. Now Molly is whining. And I am thinking to myself how I wished I hadn't volunteered to help at church in the morning. 10am comes waaay too soon when you cannot get anymore sleep, especially since we live almost a half hour away from church. Finally at almost 7, Adam pipes up, "Josh do you want to watch cartoons?" On one hand, I felt guilty for letting Whinnie the Pooh and Strawberry Shortcake babysit my son so I can get some sleep and on the other hand I wished he had thought of it sooner. All I could think of was, "Happy Mother's Day to me."

PS (We made it to church by 10am.)

It's All About The Eyes

I always thought eyes were a pretty important thing to take care of. Apparently, my Pediatricians office didn't feel the same way. Sunday, after church, I noticed Joshua's eyes were oozing with green discharge and very pussy. Every time I would wipe the puss out of his eyes, there would be more within minutes. After his nap, his eyes were so gross. I knew it was pinkeye, but I hadn't ever seen pinkeye that gross before. I determined that I would call the Dr. right away on Monday. Monday, when Josh woke up, his eye lids were beat red and swollen to a size near to that of golf balls. There wasn't near the amount of puss, but any Mother in her right mind would want to take her kid to the Doctor. That's what I thought anyway. When I called the Pediatricians office and told them I thought my son had pinkeye, I was told that they didn't typically see kids with pinkeye and was given a nurse to talk to.The nurse explained that pinkeye was a virus and that I just needed to use hot compresses on his eyes and wait it out. She didn't ask me why I thought it was pinkeye or what his eyes looked, she simply insisted that it was just a virus and I had to wait it out. I told her I worked at a daycare and my employer wouldn't want my son there and would send us home until he had been medicated for 24 hours. The nurse then made it sound like my employer was very unknowledgeable, because it's again "just a virus". Well, I got off the phone and I was quite ticked. I felt feisty and frustrated. I wanted someone to see my son and his doctor's office refused. They had blown off the concerned Mother without asking any questions about his condition. After talking with my own Mother, who echoed my concern about not only Josh's eyes, but also how the nurse neglected to ask any questions detailing his symptoms, I called our neighboring town's medical office. It turns out that they were accepting patients and Josh was able to be seen that afternoon. He was given a prescription for antibiotics and we were sent home feeling much reassured after having seen a professional and having some medicine.

Perhaps I acted too rashly, but I sincerely belive that if a Mother is very concerned about her child and wants him to be seen by his Doctor, that the Doctor should be at least willing to see the child. My sibling's current pediatrician has been quoted saying that a doctor is partly there to reassure the concerned parent. Well, I hadn't been very reassured Monday morning and felt unassured enough to transfer my child to a new doctor. It wasn't that I hadn't thought about it before, since I had. Joshua's original Pediatrician retired last year and was replaced with a young woman who was fresh out of medical school. I had originally wanted someone who was experienced and perhaps a parent themselves (being more likely to sympathize with another parent). Not that a younger doctor is unable to do a good job, but this incident pushed me enough to find someone more experienced and it just so happens that I had wanted Joshua's new doctor to be his Pediatrician when he was born, but she wasn't accepting patients then. So I guess, it all worked out... I still feel a bit badly.

Oh, For the Love of Ketchup!!

Yes, Josh has a fetish for ketchup. And yes, I let him feed himself. And again, yes, he got a little over excited about his dinner this particular evening. What can I say? It was too hilarious. (Click the photo for a good look.)

Wanna Play the "Guess that Fruit" Game?

As I was hanging Joshua's clothes in the closet this evening, I happened upon this strange carcass of a fruit. Months and months and months ago, I had downsized Josh diaper bag and had stashed the bigger bag in his closet. (Very small closet... Not easy for things to get lost in.) I don't even know how I noticed that gross remnant of fruit, especially since I was putting clothes away in semi darkness, as Josh was already in bed. But it was down inside the diaper bag. Ah yes, I was looking for extra hangers and thought maybe one had fallen into his bag. And that is what I scooped out instead. You can imagine my delight in finding such a treasure. I wonder how long it had lain in that bag lost and forgotten. Gross.

Stupid

Thanks to faulty wiring, I now am the owner of a ticket for "inadequate lighting". Didn't we just get that headlight fixed a month ago?!? This is my first ticket and I'm pretty upset/disappointed/ ticked about the whole matter. Couldn't the guy give me a break, since we JUST had it fixed after out last headlight ticket? Grump, grump, complain, and grump some more......

Easter Bunny Accident

The Easter Bunny visited our house last night, but I think he/she may have learned not to leave jelly beans hiding in the coffee maker for my husband. You see, any excess of moisture in the coffee maker will cause the beans to, well, turn into a rainbow of tie-died gooey beans. And that is not very appetizing. Maybe next time, Easter Bunny will hide jelly beans in one of his socks. Also it is good to know that hubby is not a fan of jelly beans in the first place. Oops.

Spaghetti Boy

At home, Mommy spoon feeds Josh his meals. She likes him to stay nice and clean. But when Josh goes to Grandma's house for supper, he gets a big boy fork. He eats his spaghetti all by himself. And he likes it. He likes feeding himself a lot. Maybe Mommy should let Josh feed himself at home too.

What Not to Eat

This past week, we have been dealing with poopiness. Yesterday it hit an all time high. I blame it on the cake that I made for Adam. The one with chocolate frosting. Anyway, yesterday Josh was sitting on my lap "talking" to me when he let loose. I knew it was going to be a good one so I quickly took him to the changing table. It was already too late. Good thing Adam was home because it took two of us to get Josh out of his clothes. Poop had gone half way up his back and thoroughly covered his onesie. Adam said to put him right in the shower, clothes and all. It was a good idea because as soon as we got into the bathroom the poop started running down his legs and dripped onto the bathroom floor. Yup, it was pretty gross. So little Josh got a bath and I learned that I really should be careful what I eat. No more chocolate frosting.