Monthly Archives: April 2011

The Straw or Why I Have A Rule About Pants

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This story is just too good to pass up re-telling and hands-to-God, it’s all true…

A few months ago I was sitting down to lunch with the kids. The boys were having a “naked phase”. Any time was nekkid time for the guys. So long as they didn’t pee on anything, I was okay with it.

Until That Day.

I was precision cutting up organic vegetables for a healthy lunch platter (Or making a box of Kraft Dinner. Same difference.) when I heard Mr. Cereal Killer rustling around behind me.

I turned around and – here is where time slowed down – I saw Cereal Killer with his penis in a glass of milk.

Okay. I was not going to freak out at him. I don’t want to give him some weird body issues because his mother screamed at him for dunking his weiner like an Oreo. So, I was very calm.

“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?”

“Drinkin’ my milk,” he answered without hesitation. I was still not quite sure where this was going but I stayed silent to allow him to continue the thought train.

“My straw isn’t suckin’ it up,” he said with frustration as he waved his little winkie around in the cup. You could see the logic deep down in there but still…no.

After that, I insisted my children wear pants at the table. No exceptions.

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Random Observations

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So, I was watching Barney with Foodie the other day (what a mind-numbing experience THAT show is…) when they featured a Barney-ized version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. When the bears discovered Goldilocks had broken and entered, stolen their food, broke their chair, and was getting her little girl drool all over Baby Bear’s pillow they reacted by…exercising.

Yes. Don’t get angry or kick rude-ass Goldilocks out. Exercise. That’s a super message. I mean, yes, I am all for non-violence and teaching all those happy crunchy things but, I think this is taking it a bit far. There is supposed to be a moral about stealing or bears or something in here. I think they missed the mark.

I pretty much want someone to break in to my house now so that when I catch them, I can start doing pilates.

“Well, I would have called the cops and smacked your criminal self upside the head with a lamp, but Barney suggested I work out my frustrations by getting my heart rate up. Wanna do a side twist with me?”

World Cuisine Tour 2011: South Africa

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If you are new to The Mompocalypse, allow me to explain the World Cuisine Tour 2011. To liven up our dinners, we have been picking one day a week to have a dinner based off of cuisine from another country. The kids pick the country and we all have a great time learning something about that country and trying new tastes. I try to link up some resources in these posts in case you are thinking about giving World Cuisine Tour a whirl in your home. Enjoy!


Did you know that South Africa is home to the world’s largest hospital AND the world’s largest wine cellar? I can’t help but think there might be a connection between the two…

I was initially perplexed when the kids picked South Africa for our dining adventure. Some countries are well known for their dishes. South Africa is not so much one of them. (Well, at least for me. Go ahead and call me sheltered. I live in Michigan. I’m used to it.)

But then I discovered Bunny Chow.

Do what now?

Don’t worry. No rabbits were harmed in the making of this dinner. Bunny chow, also known as kota, is a curry dish that is served in a hollowed out loaf of bread. Just curry and bread!

That sounds easy enough, right? Right! And, aside from nearly setting the first loaf of bread on fire, it was pretty easy-peasy.

First I made a loaf of white bread in my Super Pretentious Breadmaker.

It's ultimate AND plus.

I am not going to lie, this is probably my favorite superfluous kitchen gadget. I just love baking bread. Kind of ironic for someone who is gluten intolerant, right?

Then I hollowed it out.

Look at those attractive right angles!

I saved the “bread guts” for bread pudding. It’s not exactly South African, but it’s pretty darn tasty.

Then, I prepared a curry. I muddled together my own recipe for curry (I’ll post it at the end) but, if you want to be a little more authentic, check out this recipe. It sounds delicious!

Curry in a hurry!

I turned on some mood music by making a Pandora station based on Yvonne Chaka Chaka, a popular South African singer.

Dish up the curry and…

Kota!

Traditionally, kota is eaten without forks or spoons. Just fingers. If you are feeling really brave, do dinner sans silverware. My children are gifted and began eating it with their hands before I even suggested it. Wasn’t that thoughtful of them?

Next week: Libya!

Now, for my sorta curry recipe. I am vegan and gluten-free so, every once in a while I indulge myself and force the rest of the household to eat “Tina Food”. This was flavorful enough that no one complained about the lack of meat. Much.

Curry in a Hurry

1C brown rice cous cous

1 can whole tomatoes, sliced

1 can chickpeas

3 tsp curry powder

3C water

salt to taste

Throw it all in a pot and simmer for at least 30 minutes or until the cous cous is fully cooked. Add some chili sauce for a kick or a dollop of plain yogurt to make it a little more South African.

*burp* The Aftermath

The Silly Putty Incident

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I wonder what my life would be like without children. I imagine I would lounge around nibbling grapes while being fanned by a well-oiled romance novel cover model.

Not so likely? Well, at least it would be quieter in here. And I would probably devote less of my mental energy to devising ways to remove substances and objects from my children…

This morning Killer came downstairs with one eye gooped shut. My Ick Sensors went off because I know from experience that pink eye sounds like Hello Kitty’s cute new pal but it is, in fact, not cute. Or a kitty. It is contagious, however.

I asked for Killer to show me his eye and he hid on the couch. Oh, hell no. That is never a good sign. After a brief struggle, I caught a glimpse of his goopy eye.

It was purple.

Now, I am not a doctor but, I am pretty sure Nasty Eye Crud does not produce purple goop. (These are all highly technical medical terms.) Upon closer inspection, I realized his eyelashes were fused together with…

Silly Putty.

“Son of mine, how did you manage to get Silly Putty stuck in your eye hairs?” I asked, bracing myself.

“Because I want to be a pirate! Duh!”

Well, duh. I should have guessed. I mean, obviously. If I wanted to be a pirate, surely my first action would be to find the nearest supply of Silly Putty, fashion it in to a glistening circle, and slap it on my eye at bedtime so it could harden in to a newsprint-collecting eye patch by morning.

Silly me.

Potty Training: Day 1

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I’d like to first give a quick shout out to all the people who have found me through my surprise link on FreshlyPressed. I am very honored by all your positive words. Thanks for checking me out and subscribing!


Foodie is almost two so, I have decided it’s high time she at least consider using the toilet for something other than a Barbie hot tub. So, we are going to jump right in. Sounds like a great idea, right?

9:00am:  I place Foodie on the toilet and she squeals about the Elmo and Cookie Monster patterns on the kiddie potty seat for 15 minutes. No production. Foodie is now in obnoxious Yo Gabba Gabba underwear.

9:47am: Foodie said, “Pee!” so she was wrenched from her rocking chair and urgently rushed to the bathroom. She gave us one fart.

10:00am: Nap time. She is in a diaper for “safe keeping”.

10:36am: Foodie wakes up dry! There was much rejoicing! She still won’t pee on the potty, though.

11:02am: Daddy takes Foodie to the potty. She has mastered the toilet paper and farting. She’s gifted.

11:25am: Since all is going well, I give Foodie her lunch. She is sitting, eating an orange, and peeing all over her booster seat and the floor within seconds. Nice.

11:26am: I am mopping the floor as Foodie helpfully tells me she peed.

11:36am: Foodie is now completely nude and asks to go potty. She tells me, “I fahted.” I make a mental note to stop listening to Car Talk when she is riding with me.

11:57am: Foodie wants to go potty again. No, she doesn’t. Yes, she does. No, she doesn’t… We spend 5 minutes longer than it takes to pull a muscle in one’s back putting her on and taking her off the potty per her shrill requests. More Yo Gabba Gabba underwear.

12:01pm: Foodie insists that she is fully capable of putting her underwear on all by herself.

12:02pm: She gives up on the panties and states her preference for nudity.

12:08pm: She’s on the couch with Daddy. I am concerned she will pee on him without him noticing until it’s way too late. But, I sort of don’t want to warn him just to see what happens when he notices he’s in a puddle.

12:54pm: I try to sneak off to the bathroom but, Foodie has pee-dar and knows when I would like a moment by myself. She stands on the other side of the bathroom door demanding to be let in because she’s, “gotta go pee da potty!” I tell her to keep her shirt on and wait because it’s undoubtably another false alarm.

12:55pm: It wasn’t.

12:56pm: Daddy cleans up Foodie as I mop up another large puddle. This is going great.

12:58pm: She’s coming up to me butt-naked and saying, “Poop in da potty. Lotsta poopies.” My highly trained intuition tells me she might just have a Big Event Number Two in the very near future. I follow her with a plastic baggie just in case.

1:03pm: Foodie asks to visit the restroom again. I have a brilliant idea. I ask her to fart in hopes she’ll, well, shart. She responds to my request by sticking out her tongue and saying, “All done!” You win this round, little girl…

1:17pm: She’s running around with sunglasses on. Just sunglasses. No clothing.  She’s giving us a whole new set of issues to worry about after she masters the toilet.

1:21pm: A nap has been mandated. For me. Foodie is put back in to a diaper and has been compelled to nap as well.

3:00pm: Naptime over. There is a rather large present in my child’s diaper waiting for me. Well, at least it wasn’t on the carpet.

3:01pm: I trip on the way to the garbage can. Now it’s on the carpet.

3:47pm: Foodie is sat on the potty. Nothing.

3:49pm: While playing outside with her brothers, she takes off her pants and pees in the front yard. Traffic slows. Passerbys gawk. I make a mental note to move soon.

5:15pm: We made it through dinner without incident. Foodie crawls in to my lap for a post-meal snuggle and poops a little. She is very proud.

5:16pm: She is placed on the potty just in case the tank isn’t fully emptied while I pre-wash my pants in the sink. No production.

5:24pm: Foodie lays down on the living room floor holding a diaper with her feet in the air. “Putta diaper on!” she insists. I am sure that is a good sign?

6:28pm: It’s been a while since anything was expelled from Foodie. I am getting nervous as bathtime is approaching.

6:45pm: Bathtime. I am praying there will be no “brown trout” tonight. I also explain that the tub is now called an Ool. There’s no ‘P’ in our Ool. Let’s keep it that way.

6:48pm: Brown trout sighting! But, it is unclear who is the producer of the brown trout. This is getting bad.

7:08pm: Foodie is back on the potty, singing about crackers. Is she talking about food or me? Maybe I should consider tanning.

7:15pm: She peed on the couch.

7:16pm: I consider writing love letters to the makers of Resolve Fabric and Upholstery Cleaner.

7:25pm: As I am tucking a diapered and pajama’d Foodie in to bed, she tells me she has to go pee. I just back out of the room and close the door. I have reached my daily threshold for bodily fluids.

7:31pm: Oh my God, I have to pee like a racehorse…

Things I Learned on Easter

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Now, I am not saying my mother is an over-protective control freak, but she definitely put a helmet on my daughter when she was playing with a toy stroller in the driveway.

No one likes shredded coconut. No one. I don’t care how adorable it looks when you nest jordan almonds in it on a cupcake. No on likes it.

There is a very thin line between an Easter Egg Hunt and a Cage Match. We crossed it. Twice.

Grilling hot dogs is way more fun than having a ham.

Until you touch the grill with your hand accidentally. Then a ham would be a much better idea.

A four year old can, in fact, go an entire day eating nothing but items that contain the words “cup” and “cake”.

My daughter is the cutest kid in the universe.

Seriously. Look at this kid. How cute is she?

Sunday Snapshot: I’m a Luger

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Roar.

This past winter the twins joined the local luge club. They learned and practiced on the super awesome Naturbahn (a fancy, German way of saying outdoors and natural) track. This picture was at the awards ceremony after their very first meet. They were so proud of their dinosaur trophies. If I would have been actually planning, this would have been an Easter-themed picture. But, alas, I am a wretched planner.

First 5K of the Year!

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I look like a lost hippie. And check out my lopsided hair. Nice.

Today was the local YMCA’s “fun run”. A “fun run” is code for a bunch of hyper-competitive super runners, a few folks who are actually doing it for fun, and me. I fall in to the “I wish I would have been a runner in high school but I wasn’t so I have no practical running knowledge and don’t go really fast but it helped take off the baby weight so get off my back about it” category.

I was originally intending to start out running season with the 10K race, but one of my so-called friends gave me a cold. That virus originated in the 6th layer of hell. I was a crabby, tired snot machine for the better part of two weeks. The two weeks immediately preceding the race. Since I didn’t want to fall over and die after the race (I have kids to take to swim lessons, people. Death isn’t an option!) I opted to run the 5K.

It was cold, snowy, and sloppy on the road but I have got to admit that it was a ton of fun. I surprised myself and ran my fastest race ever and came in 10th in my age class. (That’s a Joe Biden moment again, peeps. The 20-29 age class is full of skinny college girls who can outrun me whilst in a coma. So the fact that I was not last was a BFD.)

And I got the kids to their swim lessons on time. And I baked 2 cakes.

Okay, while that is true, it makes me sound like some kind of semi-athletic Stepford Wife. To be more realistic, the cakes were made from mixes and I had my indentured servants children decorate them. And they did an AWESOME job.

The next Ace of Cakes is clearly in my family.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Stuff My Kids Say

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I’d put these seemingly random quotes in to some kind of context but, there is no context. They’re four. They have fanciful playtimes and narrate their bizarre adventures. It’s the best thing ever.

“Well, you can give me a haircut. But, only on Easter.” – CK

Apparently the Lord needs to rise from the grave in order for it to be a proper time for a hair cut.

“Syrup goes first. Then frosting. Then porridge.” – Rain

I am starting to suspect he likes sugar.

“I have a bucket! It’s also a hat!” – CK

That’s my boy. You’re going to be in the advanced placement classes for sure.

“I can only have a cheese taco. Beans give me a headache.” – Rain

Wrong body part, child.

“I’ve got a great idea! Let’s put the trains in our pants!” – CK

And then they did. Awesome.

One. One. One.

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I was hauling my brood to the Chinese buffet tonight (a good mother cooks a healthy dinner, an awesome mother has spicy tofu prepared by someone else) when I had this gem of an exchange with Rain Man (italics are my words):

“One. One. One. One. One. One…”
“Uh, what are you doing back there?”
“I’m reading. One. One. One.”
“What exactly are you reading?”
“The road. One. One. One.”

And that’s when I realized we were driving on a two-lane stretch of “pass with caution” highway marked with yellow dashes on the center line. Excuse me, I meant yellow “one”s.