There's A Midget In My Soup!

Every since I discovered that I CAN cook without tossing $50 worth of steaks in the garbage cause not even a knife would cut through them, the kids have found their love of the kitchen as well. Nia has been no exception.

It all started when I was pregnant with Nia and was bedridden for quite a long time with morning sickness combined with a nasty bout of pneumonia. Food Network was my choice of TV shows to zone out on for several weeks. What I learned in those weeks completely changed my life in the kitchen.

Because of it, I am left with four Sous Chef's who are determined to do exactly what I do, when I do it. It creates a hell of a lot of chaos in the kitchen sometimes. Yes, I HAVE tried alternating days they can help me; there is still borderline pandemonium at times as everyone wants to do what I am doing.

A lot of times, I just let the kids create on their own recipes, and experiment in the kitchen to instill that healthy dose of independence in each of them so that none of them come to me at the age of 35 and ask me to make them scrambled eggs in the morning cause they can't figure out how/where to crack the egg and if turbo-high is the setting they should put on the stove in order to cook them.

Plus I want them to know what is actually in the food they are putting in their mouths these days.

They all do pretty well in the cooking, baking, and cutting department. As I said previously; Nia is NO exception. I was making tacos last night and she was adamant that SHE dice the tomatoes. She knows what dicing is now at a ripe old age of four, and luckily, she knows the proper knife to use that will ensure all her fingers stay intact till she hits kindergarten next year,

No sudoku knives for this girl yet!

Well, lately, she has been getting into making her "culinary concoctions". She's been taking a few of the leftover scraps of veggies normally tossed out, and using them instead to make her own pretend soup.

Things escalated fast after a couple of days of this cause night before last, she took scraps, spices, beef broth, kosher salt, and the peppermill that she's addicted to these days. She also added some torn pieces of bread, more spices, and several star anise.

Mmmmm...... beefy licorice soup! Always wanted to try that.

Before I knew it, Nia had plopped that brew into a pot and sat it on the stove and, in true Nia style - put her hands to her hips and firmly said "Cook please."

"I" had now been demoted to Sous Chef in my own kitchen.

Well, Julian was left to clean the kitchen after dinner that night as Nia's "soup" simmered on the stove. After baths, brushing teeth, fighting over who got to play Poptropica on the computer, and begging everyone to get their things ready for school the next morning - the soup was........

for - got - ten.

Needless to say, it bubbled to a dry hump of ca-ca on my stove. Nia was in tears that her "creation" had been ruined by her brother cause he didn't watch it for her while he cleaned up. She promptly turned around with those hands on the hips again and screamed "YOUR FIRED JULIAN!", in true Trump style!

Well this morning, she decided to make a go of it again before I had to take her to Pre-K. She snagged a fresh pepper that had just been picked from our plant outside and began to cut it in bite sized pieces. The next thing I knew, she had pulled the chair to my spice cabinet (which is rather large and still growing), and proceeded to choose her flavors of the moment.

This was gonna be one spicy morning.

There was no star anise, but there was plenty of chili powder, onion powder, whole peppercorns, garlic, some celery seed, and half a bottle of white pepper thrown in that bowl; and less she not forget - Emeril's BAM spice! She decided midway that it needed to be a salad instead as she swiped a few pieces of lettuce off the cutting board that Julian had left after making himself a BLT for breakfast this morning. The leftover tomatoes went in as well.

After noticing that half my bottle of white pepper (which is not that cheap these days), disappeared in her mixing bowl, I had to put the brakes on. See, I value my spices because without them, most recipes taste like, well..... crap! They are my babies, and after watching Nadia and Julian dump $100 worth into a mixing bowl with some mud and water when they were three, I have vowed to watch over them more carefully; like behind lock and key if I could.

Luckily Nia didn't throw too big of a tantrum when I laid down the big "NO MORE!", on her flavorful nosh. She quickly switched into "TRY IT!", mode which I was highly resistant to do, but I finally succumb to because, after all, she's my cute little four year old with lot's of spunk!

Translation: Trying to avoid a major meltdown before school and I have to explain to her teachers why she looks as if she has been crying for a month because the top of her outfit is completely soaked with tears, and her eyes are red and swollen.

DOWN THE HATCH!!

My God! I thought someone had taken a torch to my lips, tongue and upper palette! Actually, the torch would have been much kinder than what I had just laid my mouth around. After tasting this, I was afraid that I would never again be able to enjoy the taste of anything other than "numb with a dash of bland" again. That hint of lemon she had thrown in hit at the last moment after everything else was burning down my throat taking esophageal tissue with it! Talk about insult to injury; like salt on a wound; like freaking glass in my eye!

"Mmmmmm Nia - this is SO YUMMY!", I proclaimed as tears streamed down my face.

"Mommy - are you crying?"

"Oh, I just got a gnat in my eye sweetie.". Cause we were sitting outside at this point cause the "fumes" of the spices were burning my nose, which should have been a damn hint NOT to try this.

"Do you LIKE IT!", she gleefully squeals as I take a second bite.

"Oh Nia, you can cook with me anytime since you did such a good job.", I say knowing that a part of me is lying through my spice encrusted, burning lips. I was just hoping she wouldn't notice that part of me.

After a glass (a BIG glass), of milk, a couple of capfuls of mouthwash in an attempt to cool the incessant fire in my own palate, it was time to take the midget chef to school.

As we were entering the school, Nia solicits in her own unique perky spirit; "Mom am I a good cook?"

"Sure Isaboo, you did a great job this morning!", I say with lips still singeing.

"Well, it's because I learned everything I know from you!", she sings back.

I'm gonna try to take that as a compliment at this point.

I think.

Obama Will Forever Be Immortalized as a Head of Alfalfa

After all is said and done, Obama will not be remembered just as the President who mounted sweeping changed in health care. Nor will he just be remembered as the President who pulled us out of two wars (well, maybe on that one). President Obama will forever be remembered by Americans, the world, and future historians as.....

Chia Obama!

"What the hell you talking about woman?", you may be asking.

Well, I was watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta for the first time last night on the Bravo station when this commercial came on. Frankly, I thought it was a pretty funny joke and was expecting characters, past and present, from Saturday NIght Live to come on any moment.

But there was no Tina Fey doing Sarah Palin, and no Dan Aykroyd doing Nixon, nor was there a Bush diddy by Will Ferrell. This was a serious commercial and after my hard core laughter sent my chicken noodle soup out my nose, I was left feeling a bit dumbfounded at what I had just watched.

Advertised in this commercial; and by the way, I am in NO WAY endorsing this product or anything like it (I just had to notify the FTC so that this post would not result in a $11,000 fine over a bloody Chia Head).

I just find it completely amazing that there are people in this country that would actually shell out $19.99 for this thing to show their.... well, whatever their trying to show by purchasing it .

Anyway, they advertise it as a special edition "collectors item" (yeah, right along with my collection of, uh, bread ties, and food stuffs that look like the Virgin Mary). They also say it is a symbol of Liberty, Opportunity, Prosperty, and Hope. Well, I say, if it can give us all that, what the hell do we need with the real Obama then?

Am I wrong or does this thing look absolutely nothing like President Obama?

It also tries to convince us that owning a Chia Obama makes the statement that "I'm proud to be an American."

BAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

I didn't know that owning a Chia Pet was a requirement for being a proud American. But I've been wrong before. They also tell you to display it at your office, home, or school. Do you know what my family would do if I brought home a clay head that grew alfalfa grass out the top and told them I was proudly displaying the President of the United States on my desk.

Yeah, that's right, remember that hot pink straight jacket I said they were gonna get for me one day. Well, that would be the day right there folks. Carting me off as I still hold this green headed funky dude and calling it Obama.

I wonder if President Obama has seen this thing yet? Do you think he's holding his head in his hands while hiding in the closet from this thing, or did Michelle have to have him carted off to the hospital to be sedated cause he was laughing his ass off so hard that he just couldn't stop.

I would opt for the latter - it would be far more explainable and understandable to the press.

Do you think that the world officially thinks us as nuts if they see this thing being advertised, much less bought by anyone in this country?

And was Bush ever humiliated in this manner? I don't ever remember a Chia Bush! But then, advertising that might have been mistaken as a pornographic gesture and there would have been hell to pay, and Cheney would have declared the makers of Chia Pets national terrorists or something.

So now Obama's legacy will now include being immortalized as a head of alfalfa on somebody's desk(s) somewhere in this country. When his Presidency is long, long gone, he will still live on as some people in this country will faithfully continue to smear seeds on his tiny clay head in the hopes that Liberty, Opportunity, Prosperty, and Hope return if they pat the little sprouts when the grow.

For that, we may need a Chia Miracle.

I Am SUCH a Neurotic Ninny!

So my son goes into the ER tonight because I, the neurotic ninny, think he is dying of some exotic disease from Pluto because his neck is so swollen that he resembles more of an elephants leg than the bocci ball I gave birth to 12 years ago.

I imagine after pouring through endless sites on the net, that he has the mumps, diphtheria, or worse - the dreaded "C" word. I cannot find anything to explain the increased swelling and pain my son has had for two days. Not to mention that Toni and Nia had the same bout with it just a few weeks earlier.

After going round and round about it with the hubs, he and Julian head for the ER about 6 p.m. I sit at home with the girls and play cards, surf the web, communicating with a few family members and friends, argue on Facebook about whether organic meat or conventional meat will kill you faster, and so on.

I even found time to pack some dinner for the boys and take it over to the ER for them cause it's a Friday night and everyone (I'm experienced in this now), knows that they are slammed on Fridays cause that's the only time people apparently get sick or in accidents.

Around 11 p.m., the boys finally get home. Anxious to hear what my son has been diagnosed with, I am met instead with the two of them just staring at me and laughing.

Come to find out, all my son has been stricken with is a life-altering, possibly life-threatening CRICK IN THE NECK.

Translation: he slept on it the wrong way.

So in our house, we are passing around Crickus In-us the Neckus to one another at the moment. If you see one of us on the streets with thick necks and a strange contorted face, you will know one of us has been afflicted with this malady. I don't think it's contagious, but I know from personal experience that it can lead to Stupiditis NoBrainus.

So if anyone out there is passing out a "Neurotic Ninny" award this year, I would like to nominate myself at this time. Because my saying I feel rather stupid about this whole event just doesn't cut the cheese.

A Little Bit of Rambling on a Rainy Day

Let's see, what' happening in our life today? Well, we woke up to it raining cats, dogs, a few frogs with some ducks thrown in this morning. For some reason, the rain made it impossible for the bus drivers to run their routes because all my kids were left out in the rain as not a one of them showed up.

I made two early morning trips to the schools where both of them left so completely drenched from my dash from the garage to the car that I had to completely change my clothes after returning both times.

Nothing like squishy Ugg's. Well at least their washed!

I had to be extra quiet while opening drawers and making a quick change, cause the hubs didn't return home last night till about 2 in the morning, and he had had so much coffee on the way home that he never went to bed till about 4 a.m.

Boy, was HE a joy to see wake up this morning!

Then it was time to take the 4 year old midget to Pre-K. She was up at 6:30 this morning but thought it a better idea to wait till 15 minutes before leaving for school to get herself ready.

I do not ever recommend rushing a four year old to school on a rainy, dreary morning. It's kinda like a Monday, but it's on a Friday and it's all wet and mushy, and all she wants to do is mildew in front of the TV and watch Oswald which I swear is just a bunch of gay characters disguised as a kids cartoon.

Why else would a big blue octopus name their dog "Weinee"? But we can discuss that at a later date and I know I have supporters on this issue.

I get her to school and she's like giving me her 99 hugs before I go when suddenly I realize (and I feel like I repeating another one of my blog posts here):

SHE'S NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR and SHE'S WEARING A SKIRT!!!

This is not the first time she has gone into public forget to don her most important wardrobe accessory, but why did it have to be at school? I mean, grabbing a package of Ariel size 4 bikinis and slipping them on while hiding from the public in a clothes rack in Wal-Mart's is one thing, but to do this in front of your whole stinking class and the boy you just announced you're gonna marry (that story coming soon), is a completely different matter.

Once Nia realizes that I realize that SHE'S is a complete naked ninny under that skirt, she won't let me go. She keeps whispering "shh, shh, shh", in my ear as if THAT'S gonna make the whole issue go away. I'm not saying anything so why is she telling me to "shhhh!"?!

I keep whispering to her that no one knows except her and I; which is a complete lie because her teacher is standing on top of us and she has just given me the "Oh my gosh, your daughter isn't wearing any underwear under her skirt look", and I'm trying to shield my daughter from seeing that particular look on her teacher's face cause it's one of those where the nose contorts to meet the hairline, and it ain't pretty!

Quickly I look up and say "We'll be right back!" Nia and head quickly back to the car, get in, and back home. For some reason, her ability to walk has now been hampered by the fact that I know she isn't wearing underwear. The damn kid is walking as if someone just superglued her legs from the knees up. Kinda like a penguin gait in a pink and green polka dotted ensemble going on here.

Needless to say, we're getting all kinds of weird mommy looks on the way out as if my child has just broken out in a purple rash or something, and they don't want their children exposed. They walk towards us, look at me, look at Nia, then suddenly increase their distance and walk around us as oppose to by us.

I wonder what those stinking church ladies will have to say about this now!

After managing to get in the car, the whole way home she is reciting to me which one(s) of her underwear she would prefer me to pick out. Like I'm gonna choose. Hell no! I'm gonna grab the first pair I find in the laundry basket of clothes that are waiting at home for me to fold anyway. Hopefully it won't be the hubs cause THAT could be kinda even more embarrassing!

Luckily, it's Ariel again. She never argues about Ariel underwear, and if it was so doggone special for her to wear anyway then why weren't they planted on her butt this morning before we went to school?

Then I grabbed her extra change of clothes for school that were SUPPOSE to be there anyway, but Nia brought them back home thinking they WEREN'T suppose to be there anyway.

Back to school with her we go, and after a quick kiss good-bye, you would have never known anything had happened cause she was off skipping to her Benjamin - the boy she's suppose to be marrying.

So it's just another normal day around here as the sun finally peeks out from behind the clouds in order to dry the small rivers near my driveway.

Now, would you like to come over, have a cup of coffee and help me clean up the WHOLE bottle of silver glitter Nia just happen to pour all over her bedroom AND the hallway just so it could be SPARKILY!?

The High Cost of Getting an "A"

Toni has a science project due this week. They've been studying the solar system so, well, that's what her project has to be about... duh! After hemming and hawing over what she wanted to do for like.... 2 weeks, she came to the exciting conclusion that she wants to make a comet smashing into Jupiter.

I thought we could make a simple model of planets in orbit, but that was waaaay too boring for her. She's a bit like her brother in the smash 'em up department, and if she could get by with blowing a planet up in her classroom; well, that would make her year at school.

After brainstorming some design ideas we decide to hit Wal-Marts at 7:00 p.m., because after all, it HAS to be done at the last minute. That's how my kids do everything right now; at the last possible freaking minute so as to have me running around and losing the last few hairs left on my head and completely freaking out that my kid is gonna get an "F" in this thing.

Our list was simple:

1/2 of a small styrofoam ball

1 medium sized styrofoam ball

1 package of glittery pipe cleaners (they now call fuzzy sticks ?????)

1 can of flat black paint

1 small container of spray on glitter (cause we gotta have sparkly stars in the background)

1 small package of crushed shells (cause we have to make the comet look like a dirty snowball, cause that's what it looks like, right?)

1 pair of pajamas - Doh! That's not part of the project, but Toni need a warmer pair so it was added to the list, but won't be glued to the project - hopefully.

I get to the register and the the whole pile of junk rings up to $32.38! What the hell did I just spend $32.38 on??? The pajamas were only $7.00, so that didn't really make a big difference. So I just paid $25 some odd dollars on a project so that my daughter can get an "A" on her science project.

Why do I feel like both my daughter and I are getting scammed here by both the school system and Wal-mart's? Are they in cahoots with one another?

"Good morning Wal-Marts, this is Ms. So-In-So at Gulf Breeze Elementary."

"Yes, good to talk to you to again sir."

"Listen, we have another science project coming up for our third graders that I want to let you in on."

"Yeah, it's a doozy so there will be LOT"S of items you can mark up a few cents on this one."

"Yes, I'm sure it WILL make your Arkansas headquarters happy to hear about this, that's why we like to keep you informed of such events like these."

"Yeah, good project I have here - it's about the Solar System. The WHOLE Solar System!"

"What is that? Oh yes sir, it will cover BOTH the craft departments and the kids science kits cause I'm sure there will be plenty of parents that won't want to make anything from scratch and will prefer those cheap boxed kits instead."

"No, no, no - I don't expect that you will keep them cheap under these circumstances. It's too good of a project!"

"Oh yes sir, it WILL be a perfect time for parents to do some spontaneous shopping with Halloween and all. I've got these kids all wigged out over this project. They'll be screaming for mommy and daddy to buy everything in sight in order to get one of my 'A's'!"

"Now, do I still get that special discount for letting you know about this?"

"Oh thank you sir, and please give my regards to Arkansas."

"Buh, Bye!"

"Huh - what's that? Oh, oh yeah - Go Dolphins!"

This is the only way I can explain how a ten dollar project costs me over $30 in order for my 8 year old child to pass the project and my not receive a massive letter campaign from the teacher and the school for not participating.

My parenting and my financial common sense brain cell tells me that I think Wal-Mart could have made a "school project" campaign that rivals the "school supplies" campaign back in August.

"At Wal-Mart's, we've marked your favorite items down so that no school project cost more that $10."

"Save Money - Live Better "

"We Won't Leave You Filing For Bankruptcy After Your Child's School Projects."

Now THAT'S a slogan I can live with!

To add insult to injury, I still have a kid at home who is completely stressed out about whether her project will "look" good enough against all the others as if it is unacceptable unless it says "Juicy" on the back tail of the comet as it's swirling towards a day-glo orange Jupiter!

When did peer pressure get passed on to science projects? Have I missed something in the 10-20-whatever years it's been since I was in high school?

Anyway, on top of all the filler school supplies at the beginning of school like, copy paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer, the janitors first month wages; I also have to dig deep in my bare pockets for all those required science projects so my kids an pass onto the next grade without severe black marks against their permanent school records.

At this rate, I think private school might have been cheaper after all.

Nia and Boredom - Always an Interesting Mix

It's been a relatively quiet day around here. Nia had the day off from school which usually means......... she's gonna get into something. Well, that something just turned out to be me.

I tried talking to my mom for a few minutes (hours), on the phone this afternoon, but Nia thought it best to run out of the house and attempt to lock herself in our bagel barge sitting in the driveway. It was by shear luck that I caught her before the door slammed on my fingers, but at least I saved myself from calling 911 because the hubs has the keys to said bagel barge and he went out of town this morning.

I finally decided (was forced) to hang up with my mom and hang out with Nia before the rest of my tribe started arriving home from school. When Nia gets bored, things get a little interesting around here.

Translation: the child is into everything!

She won't play outside right now because it's quiet windy, and every since the hubs mentioned something about Chinese Medicine saying that the wind is a carrier of a thousand diseases, the whole "Play outside cause I said so!", discussion is completely a mute point around here. The kids all think they're gonna get Eboli or something when it's windy!

By the time I got Nia in the house from the whole car episode, she was quite furious with me. The child was actually trying to bite me through my Uggs.

Can you say regression?

Once she snapped out of the quick but intense tantrum, it was on a heightened state of creativity.

Talk about bouncing from one extreme to the other!

But her medium of choice just happened to be me and a tape dispenser. Is there a reason for this? I don't think so other than the fact that... she CAN. So there I sat as she carefully pulled each piece off the dispenser, cut it with her little scissors cause she has yet to figure out how to tear it off without pulling the entire piece of tape OUT of the dispenser. She attaches each piece about my head, neck and arms in a most delicately manner cause instinctively she knows how much I'm gonna bloody scream when it comes that time to rip it of my pre-geriatric skin!

I should be so thankful!

I think I may have mention to a few of you before about the God-awful haircut I received a couple of weeks ago. It seems that whenever I try to do short, the "stylist" translates that into "Do the crappiest job you can do on my hair!" Again I am left with a haircut that makes me walk in public with a paper bag on my head.

Somehow, Nia thinks I need more off than I had shaved off in the first place. I think she is standing behind me ready to cut another piece of tape off that dispenser when suddenly I start hearing a strange, yet familiar kind of snipping noise.

Brain cells in my head start lighting up like fireworks when I realize the midget is CUTTING MY HAIR!! Between my hair falling out lately due to an un-Godly amount of stress in my life (long story - will discuss at a future date after my next doctor's appointment), this shitty haircut, AND Nia takes a few more inches off here and there - I am due to be bald about Christmas time.

Anyone have a wig shop they can recommend to me at this point in time so that I can add something long and fashionable to my very short Santa list? I better start coloring that paper bag red and green and adding a few dangly decorations on it for the upcoming season - looks like I'm gonna need it.

So when Nia gets bored around here, it's a parenting challenge sometimes. She's still taping her world up, but luckily without me since she cringed at the screams I let out as she ripped the tape from every place from my chest up. Yes, she took a few more hairs with her as a result, but at least I don't have to use an apricot scrub on my face tonight as she already removed a bunch of those pesky dead skin cells from my outer epidermic layer.

God help the cat if she goes after him!