OK, this cracked me up

I thought you’d appreciate an email response I got from my last blog post entitled “The Day I went from Mommy to Mom”.  It’s from my friend Linda.

This morning while dressing Allegra, we were playing “Anastasia and Druszilla,” my daughter loving the soap opera drama scene where the evil stepsisters rips Cinderella’s dress to shreds.  So we have these fake beads, and I’ve had enough of the play and just want to finish dressing her to we can go down and eat breakfast.  We are going back and forth with “you cant go to the ball, go mop the floor”  “the prince loves me” etc etc., and suddenly she grabs the beads from me and says, “Gimme the beads you fucking bitch!” 

I don’t recall that being in the Disney version but I’m pretty sure the title of the blog would be “The moment I went from Mommy to Fucking Bitch.”  The kicker: “Where did you hear that from?”  One word:  “Daddy.”

Honestly its so tragic on so many levels but in this house its we been laughing our asses off all morning.  Thought I’d share!


The day I went from “Mommy” to “Mom”

There are certain “firsts” that all parents remember vividly.  The first time the baby smiles at you, the first time they roll over, and my personal favorite, the first time my kids decided to use the potty instead of diapers.  As you may know, most preschools only accept 3 year olds who are  potty trained.  I’m still a little sore that my eldest, Hugh, waited until the DAY BEFORE preschool started to decide he was done with diapers.  Damn kid!  He’s never going to live that one down! haha!


I always got excited about the firsts that happened beyond babyhood.  Yes, it is a thrill the first time your baby takes his own little steps, but let me tell you, it’s just as exciting the first time his bat makes contact with a T-Ball.  I went berserk the first time each of children rode a bike with no training wheels.   I was bursting with pride when my kids passed the “deep end” test at the pool.  These are the unsung moments of parenthood that never seem to get mentioned in baby books.


Other “firsts” are more bittersweet.  The first time a baby refuses the breast.  The first eye roll.  The first time your kid doesn’t want affection in public.  Maybe I should call them “lasts”.  I remember the circumstances of the last time I nursed each of my kids, even though I knew it was winding down.  For Hugh, it was immediately after coming back from my friend Marlo’s wedding in the Bahamas.  I woke him up, nursed him, and the next day he wanted no more.  Jack was at a neighborhood playdate at Stephanie’s across the street.  I nursed him, put him to sleep under an end table in the corner, and that was that.


Jack was my cuddle monster.  Both of my kids were, but being the youngest, he was so into Mommy and I guess I remember it better.  Praying at the kneeler at Mass, a little head would try to wiggle its way between the pew and the crook of my elbow.  Then a slightly larger head would do the same on the other side.  Here was a vivid reminder of the very things I prayed for, and about!   Sitting on the couch with a blanket an a novel, along would come Jack wanting in, and wanting me to hold just him.  I got kisses constantly, looks of loving adoration, hugs and more hugs.  Did I mention the cuddles???


Then he turned eight.


Literally, the day Jack turned eight, the hugs and kisses and longing looks stopped.  No longer did he need or want to be cuddled.  No longer did he want to spend quiet time with me, demanding all my attention.  He stopped trying to shove his way into my praying hands at church.  Like an English schoolboy who stops wearing shorts and graduates to “big boy pants”, Jack embraced all that the transition from little boy  had to offer.  He could venture beyond my line of sight because he had the confidence to find his way back.  He could do more things, climb higher trees, ride larger bikes, jump off higher rocks into the lake because he no longer needed “Mommy”, he only wanted “Mom.”  Yes, of course I still get the occasional kiss and hug, but it’s not the same.


I know this is completely normal behavior, and I do embrace it.  God rest her soul, but I had a mother who always wanted puppies to remain puppies and babies to remain babies. I find it much easier than my mom did to let my kids go through their normal developmental milestones – even the annoying ones.  A 13 year old putting maturity on and off like a too big sweater is especially fun.  Note the sarcasm.  But still, I expect it, I know what’s happening, and I know it has to happen.  I do not want my kids to feel like they are disappointing me somehow by growing up.  Nor do I want them straining from the shackles of  eternal babyhood and feel the need to rebel or grow up too fast.  Like I did.  I want them to go through what they need to go through to become the men God wants them to be.  It’s all part of the beautiful process.


Still, to be “Mommy” one more time.  I think that’s a longing most women have, despite ourselves.



Quiche – The Crust = Frittata for breakfast! Or lunch! Or dinner!

Ding ding ding!  Call me slow on the uptake, but a brilliant thought occurred to me yesterday.  I have two absolutely  delicious Quiche recipes, courtesy of my very good friend Dorothy.  Why not just lose the crust and make it primal friendly???  I always used the store-bought, pre-rolled generic anyway, so it’s not a big sacrifice .  After I bake it when I have time, just slice, nuke and enjoy the next day!  Why didn’t I think of this easy, easy grab and go breakfast before???????  It is so much quicker to have eggs pre-prepared.  Add an orange and it’s breakfast!  Add a nice salad or soup and dinner is served!


Anyway, here it is.  Please keep in mind that the oven times might vary due to not having to cook the crust, so I may be off.  Start checking it after about 30 mins.  This does include a few teaspoons of flour, but I’m not picking nits.  This is primal/paleo friendly enough for me!


Grease glass pie plate with butter or spray canola oil

1 1/2 cups grated Swiss (.35 lbs.)

4 tsp. flour

Mix together in your pie plate

Add small dices of ham


Combine in another bowl:


3 eggs (pasture raised if possible)

1 cup light cream

1/4 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. dry mustard

Grated onion (2 tsp or to taste)


Beat – Pour over ham and cheese

Bake at 350 for 45 mins (give or take, see above)


You can also freeze this mixture.  Wrap in plastic wrap, then tin foil.  When ready to serve, uncover, put the frozen frittata into the oven at 400 for 1 hour.


Another variation is 1.5 cups of Gruyère, and no ham.  Top the egg mixture with mushrooms and thawed and thoroughly squeezed frozen chopped spinach.  Cold and tedious, but necessary!  This one is actually my favorite.


The breakfast burrito

OK, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only quick breakfast you can order on the go is some kind of breakfast sandwich.  It’s really annoying.  I had a scant half hour between dropping the kids off and going to the dentist. So, I went to one of my favorite places, who said they serve breakfast, lunch and dinner (I’ve only gone for lunch or dinner).  Turns out, they don’t serve their full breakfast menu during the week, just on weekends.  My only choice, besides anything in the muffin family, was an egg, cheese, bacon and salsa burrito.


Needless to say, it’s a big mess unless it stays contained in the tortilla wrap, which I wound up eating.  Since I’m limiting my grain products to special occasions, I’m annoyed because wolfing down breakfast does not qualify as a special occasion to me.  I’m annoyed at myself for not planning ahead well enough to eat at home. I needed to get some stuff done, take the world fastest shower and blast the kids to school.  I guess I have to learn to be an earlier riser if I’m going to maintain paleo in the morning.  I’m also annoyed that the chef couldn’t just slap some eggs on the grill and give me regular bacon and eggs.  Geez!


Let’s not even mention that I need yet another crown due to a crack in my molar from clenching my jaw.  I just started noticing this new habit this past October, and I’ve done it enough to crack the damn tooth since my last cleaning.


I know exactly what triggered the jaw clenching too.  My dad was visiting for a month, and when I saw how poorly he takes care of himself, ignores his health problems and so forth, I found my jaw killing me after less than a week.  I love him so dearly, but he’s an old curmudgeon and is set in his ways.   Basically, he wasn’t doing what I told him to do!  haha!  Paybacks are a bitch, because I remember how I was as a teenager!  So, a new crown and a night guard are on their way.  Oh joy.


OK, I really would love some retail therapy but I have to get more stuff done in here.  I’d love to hear how you manage a paleo breakfast on the run!



Messy house, messy thoughts

Hello, and welcome to my brand-spanking new blog!

As I look around my house, and then look at my giant to-do list (which mostly includes paperwork and commitments I’ve made as a volunteer for school and Scouts) I’ve come to a realization:

I can’t get my other stuff done until I’ve straightened up the house.  I don’t feel in control of the work I have to do if I don’t have control over the house.

There.  I said it.  I can’t get my “business” organized if I’m surrounded by dirty dishes next to the sink, an unmade bed, and the remnants of the kid’s rush to make their lunch.  It’s like a bomb went off in here.  I just don’t understand how quickly this house devolves from nice and straightened to a giant mess.  I lucked out and today it’s just confined to the kitchen.  You should see it when it creeps into the living room… and let’s not even talk about the boys rooms and family room downstairs!

Granted, my husband is on a business trip, and I know I make much more of an effort to keep up with this place when he’s home – perhaps in an effort to “justify” my status as only working part time as a personal trainer, and the majority of my time as a stay at home mom.  Still, I say “screw it” for one day and the mess multiplies like bunnies.

Now, before you think I’m a total neat freak, please know that I’m not!  I grew up in a house where you weren’t allowed to walk into the living room after Mom (God rest her soul) vacuumed so we didn’t leave footprints, weren’t allowed to sit on the couch for fear of messing up her throw pillows, and weren’t allowed to eat anywhere but the kitchen.  We didn’t leave the house until it was completely vacuumed. We weren’t allowed to eat in the car.

I vowed that I would let my family actually LIVE in my house, and I absolutely do create an environment where they can relax.  It’s very important to me that this is a home, not a showplace.  Even still, when I can’t see the kitchen countertops, I think most would agree it’s time to get in gear. So, off I go so I can get my paperwork done!