Wise Stranger

The woman who sat beside us at the restaurant today got quite the show. She saw a lot of wiggles. I'm fairly certain she felt some, too, given the range or our wiggliest child who sat not six inches from her chair. She saw our kids get up to the bathroom two times. EACH! (Well, she was only there for the contagious poop round, but trust me, lady, there was an identical pee round not five minutes prior). She saw Max drop two forks on the ground. Hopefully she didn't see me "wipe the germs" off of fork number two because I was too embarrassed to bug the waitress who had already witnessed the three-ring circus that performed before a new seating arrangement was issued.

This poor lady (and half of the restaurant, I'm sure) heard loud comments on other customers' clothing, tattles about what each boy was doing to another, demands for explanations on why we ordered water instead of soda, and inquiries into the whereabouts of the beloved restaurant owner (a.k.a. "the Oreo man" because of previous generous table visits). She heard me ask Calvin to please stop kicking me, no less than 14 times. If she was listening closely, she also heard hushed, but increasingly aggravated explanations and corrections from Ryan and I.

Then, when bellies were full and cake and cobbler were on the table and Ryan and I could finally get an adult-to-adult word in edgewise, she heard us try to mentally re-create our calendar for the week, unsure of which night was T-ball and which was parent pitch, if there was a conflict with the PTO meeting or if we could attend, how many nights this week we'd have to crock pot it or eat out, and how badly we didn't want to add a whole-crew grocery run to our list for that day, but how it seemed unavoidable.

When Ryan left to pay the cashier, trailing two stained mouths behind, I tried to make our table look not quite so tornadic before I grabbed a sticky little hand and followed. The lady caught my eye, gave me a warm smile and said something that brought me to embarrassing tears right there on the spot. "They'll be all grown up soon."

Thank you, random lady, for not glaring at us when we interrupted your quiet Sunday afternoon dinner for the umpteenth time. For not elbowing our wiggle worm back (actually...) And for giving me a message that was exactly what I needed. Part hope and part warning.

Back Among the Living

We ventured back out into public today.  And, boy, could you tell the boys had been cooped up for a week! Here are the highlights from our excursion to the "big city" to hang out with my sister and her hubs (and, against our better judgement, to eat out at a restaurant):

- I was proud of myself for busting Calvin's brown shirt/brown pants not-quite-matching combo (he's taken to putting his coat on pre-breakfast, resulting in some interesting revelations at school lately).
- I realized too late that I hadn't busted him for leaving his jammie pants on under his pants.
- When I expressed dismay that he'd been wearing his jammies for, like, 24 hrs straight (recall that we Laytons only dress when absolutely necessary), he corrected me by informing me that he's been wearing them, "For, like, four days."
- We jumped out of the car straight into the snow for a quick romp to get good and wet before we entered the carpeted house.
- Three little jumping beans greeted their aunt, uncle, and hyperactive puppy and didn't stop bouncing for a good hour, despite constant barking from parents, aunt, and puppy.
- Three little voices TALKED LIKE THIS THE ENTIRE TIME WE ATE AT THE RESTAURANT.
- After practice and a pep talk Reed and Calvin placed their own semi-complicated orders like champs, causing Aunt Tavia to cry. She's totally turning into our mother. (I've been there for ten years...)
- Max lightened the mood when he placed his order. Instead of ordering a meal, he communicated his desire for chocolate milk instead of white. This lead the waiter to mention chocolate pancakes, which took his mind completely off of the previously decided-upon Lil' Farmer's Breakfast. When I whispered a reminder of his order to him, he began arguing with me. He calmed down when we settled on pancakes and sausage and made his order like a big boy, looking the waiter in the eyes and speaking clearly. Until the man asked for clarification on what kind of sausage. Then he just took a big lick of milk that had spilled on the menu.
- Calvin engaged his twisty straw in an exciting knife fight, complete with sound effects.
- While stopped at a traffic light, Calvin shot who-knows-how-many motorists with his 6-shooter before we realized what he was doing.
- We had a great time with my sister and brother-in-law back at their house -- after we busted out the iphones and Legos.

Lots of Material

The nublins were in fine form today! I got a week’s worth of blog material all in one day.

Breakfast:

C: Pleasth open thisth for me.

Me: Let’s practice your “s” sound. Say, “Pleassssse open thisssss for me.”

C: Can you open that?

M:  Come on, let’sssss practisssse. Pleassssse open thissssss.

C continues to avoid the dreaded s sound, ignore me, and/or turn his mouth away from me so I can’t see if his tongue is in the right spot. Finally, when he sees I’m not going anywhere. 

C: Well, I have to sthay THA-AT if you’re holding it!

In the car:

Our conversation somehow gets from ancestors to smoking, then cancer, then chemo, then baldness, then Uncle Tarl, then male-pattern baldness vs. bic-ing your head voluntarily.  The boys were a little worried that their hair would fall out when they got older.

Me:  Yeah, but then you could just shave it like Uncle Tarl. I think he looks pretty cool without hair.

C: Yeah! He looks like a guy who could do sweet moves on Mario!...Hey! Mario is like Papa. Hair here (points to right side) and here (points to left side), but no hair here (points to top of head)

R: That’s his hat, Calvin.

Lunch:

They take their charving skills to new media: Reed charves pork roast (lots of wood products) and Calvin charves bread and vegetables.

C (holding up piece of broccoli): Is this a tree, (turns it) an upside down tree, (takes bite out of top middle) or a clown?

It was a clown.

Play time:

After putting up the Christmas tree, they took the Christmas toys out and started having a heyday. I’m not really sure what the storyline was, but when I spied, I learned that it involved reindeer, snowmen, a King, Baby Jesus, a Christmas train, and a truck made from a triceratops skeleton. Here’s the one line I overheard:

C: Uh oh! Baby Jesus’ hay is frozen! (knock knock) How will we break it?! Get yooour weapons!!!

Toy pick-up time:

After finishing his assigned rooms, Calvin “helped” Reed in the living room by making a Ninja out of an exercise ball, comforter, two DS games, coat, slippers, and couch cushions.

The couch cushions are arms, a shield, and a sword. I told you this boy was creative.

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In between all the funnies there was also decorating the Christmas tree, baking Reed’s b-day cookies, eating popcorn and cheese for supper while drawing dinosaurs, attacks under the mistletoe, and Max peeing on the potty for the first time!  It doesn’t get much better than this.

But wait, there's more...

I've been ranting about little-kid annoying games here and here and here. I failed to mention these fun additions to the repertoire:

- W-H-A-T disease; the object is to get a person to say the dreaded word, then squeal with "Ahhh, me!" delight and gloat that you've given them the disease. Yes, it's as thrilling as it sounds.
- Incessantly asking people to look "under there."
- Acting excited about something on the wall, then when another person looks, hitting them in the head and shouting, "Stay outta my business!" Thank you, Uncle Rick, for teaching us that little gem almost two years ago. They remembered.
- Spelling E-V-R-E-E-T-H-I-N-G -- this is Reed's brainchild, though Calvin tries, usually getting the first sound and then just spouting random letters. Max has even started calling dessert "B, R, et, et" in an attempt to fit it. And when I ask if Reed wants more lasagna, he answers, "S-H-O-R." FYI - spelling is twice as annoying as ig-Pay atin-Lay
- Broken or not broken; break a piece of food (or don't), then put the pieces back together (or not) and hold them up and ask someone at the table, (here's Max's version) "Broken uh broken?" Give a taunting laugh and prove it when they're wrong.
- "Chri-ma wiiiiiigh!!!!!" - this holiday game is in honor of the littlest player. Be the first to spot Christmas lights and yell the announcement at the top of your lungs in your best Max voice.

Charving Masterpieces

We just keep rollin' out the family fun these days. Here's how you play their latest, called "charving" (a combo of "chewing" and "carving," dubbed in a children's book I read a few summers back whose main character charved all 50 states out of Kraft singles):

- Take mouse-like nibbles around the outside of your cheese slice.
- Every few nibbles, look at it, and decide what it looks like.
- Create a multiple choice question using the shape you created as one choice and random other shapes, similar or polar opposites, as the other choices (real-life example, "Is this Baby Jesus or Frankenstein or a king's head or a star?")
- Quiz everyone at the table. Tell them why they're stupid when they guess wrong (insider tip: always guess "D")
- Repeat. Over and Over. Until the cheese is microscopic.
- Ask for more cheese.
- Whine when mom makes you eat your "real food." Threaten to charve your lasagna.

Uper-say Annoying-hay

I’d like to apologize first to my parents for all the hours I spent speaking Pig Latin. Then, I’d like to extend that apology to anyone who has had any contact with my children this week. For some reason, I thought it would be a great idea to teach them the language that I had so much fun using during my own childhood. Oly-hay ap-cray! I never imagined they’d become fluent in the language, much less that it would become their primarily-spoken tongue. Reed speaks it as good as any grown up. Calvin is a little sketchier, but he’s got “upid-stay utt-bay” down to a tee! Potty humor is SO much more hilarious in a foreign dialect.

At a recent outing with Aunt Tavia (an outing that already involved time-outs in a separate restaurant booth by a certain medium-sized someone) I did what Ryan and I have had to do every day since – institute a English-only policy for the rest of the day. I explained that Pig Latin could get very obnoxious, so we weren’t going to use it ANY MORE! Reed replied, “Orry-say.”

Whatever Parmesan

I discovered eggplant parmesan two summers ago and I have never been the same since. Holy crap, I love that stuff! Sadly, the Little Bits do not share my affection for the pretty purple gift from heaven above. In fact, I think they’re convinced it’s of the Devil himself. Last year, I basically said, “too bad, doodads” and forced them to endure eggplant parmesan once a week because “We don’t just make meals to make you happy. Mommy wants to eat food she likes, too.” But this year, I decided that Mommy also wants to enjoy said meal without enduring a monologue about how evil eggplant is, why it’s cruel to serve it at every meal and am I really going to make eggplant donuts tomorrow? So, I pulled a simple sub and came up with this baby. They were skeptical at first, but Ryan wisely called it "Doubloon Pizza" and they were willing to try a bite. It got a thumbs up from Reed, several grunts and “muh”s from Max, and no comment from Calvin, which in my book is a win.

Eggplant/squash parmesan

-          Eggplant and/or squash (I do half and half, and make sure not to accidentally cut eggplant into the turds’ serving. They have hawk eyes for purple!)

-          Spaghetti or marinara sauce (1 jar)

-          Mozzarella cheese, shredded or sliced, but lots and lots

-          Parmesan cheese

-          Basil

The traditional recipe calls for breading and frying the veggies. De-li-cious! But, that isn’t as healthy and takes a long time. So, I slice mine into thickish medallions, shake in oil, salt and pepper, and lay out on a couple of cookie sheets. Then I bake them for about 10 mn at 400 degrees until they’re slightly soft. Then, grease a pan and layer the ingredients up like lasagna. I don’t think the order really matters. As long as you put buttloads and buttloads of mozzarella cheese in there somewhere, it’s gonna be yummy! Bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 mn or until it’s bubbling and gooey.

A veggie by any other name...

…may actually make it down their tiny gullets!

So… we have a huge, prolific garden. Exciting, huh? But not when you harvest two grocery bags of produce EVERY DAY. And 3/5 of your family won’t eat 3/5 of what’s in the bags. But last night, I came up with a genius plan, if I do say so myself. I made crispy veggies, then put them on the table – not on the three plastic plates. Nothin’ like placing something just out of reach to make it irresistible.  Then, I donned my best pirate accent as I casually (or as casual as a pirate can be) helped myself to the “gold doubloons.” As if on cue, I suddenly had two pirate companions, and a noisy parrot, all begging for doubloons. They ate them with gusto. The doubloons even elicited one of Max’s goat-bleats, usually reserved for ice cream and candy. Midway through the meal, though, one of the pirates got smart. “Mom, are you trying to trick us?” Reed-beard asked, sheepishly. “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. “Is this really eggplant?” Phew… I knew better than to try my little ruse with the bane of my boys’ existences. I could honestly answer that it was NOT eggplant, though I did have to later fess up that it was squash and zucchini. Too late, though – they already admitted to liking it. Now if I could only fashion an edible dragon out of eggplant …

Gold Doubloons

-          Veggies

-          Egg

-          Shake and Bake

1)      Cut veggies into medallions

2)      Dip in egg, then coat with Shake and Bake

3)      Place in a single layer on a greased cookie sheet

4)      Bake at 425 degrees for 15 mn, or until golden enough to pass for doubloons

Stromboli and Dating Advice

One of the advantages of being a teacher is birthday lunch day. Once a month, my coworkers and I take turns cooking for each other. I’ve gleaned a lot of great recipes this way, but this is probably my favorite. The original recipe is fairly involved, which, in my household means it will never be made again. Its Tobified version is super easy and a fan favorite. Last night the boys were stuffing their faces with the stuff. Literally. This inspired quite an interesting conversation about how a failure to develop one’s table manners will result in one being dateless in high school and, ultimately, dying alone. It sounds depressing, but it was actually quite hi-larious. Our favorite storyline from the conversation: “What if Max went out on a date with…Cara (the youngest non-related girl we could think of) and they went to the restaurant and he pulled out the highchair for her like a nice boy and they ordered Stromboli and the waiter took a long time to bring it out and so he got up on the table and said, ‘Buh! Buh! Buh!’ Cara would say, ‘Take me home! I want to go out on a date with a different boy!” Laughing the hardest at this scenario? Max. Even though over the course of the discussion we came up with a lot of rude things to do on dates, I’m hoping eventually those behaviors will be less comical – and less frequent. Here’s the incomplete list of what NOT to do on a date:
- Dance on your chair or around the table
- Wipe your face on your shirt
- CARRY ON YOUR ENTIRE DINNER CONVERSATION AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS!
- Get all up in your date’s grill
- Crawl on your high chair tray
- Throw all your utensils on the floor one at a time, while saying “Uh oh”
- Meow at and trip the waiter (our pets aren’t off the hook when it comes to table manners)
- Toot in your date’s face (Nope. That’s a piece of human advice.)

Just so you know, these tips were not hypothetical. They were all inspired by real events. Many of them are regular occurrences. And with that peek into life around my dinner table, I’ll move on to the recipe. Maybe I’ll appear to be a little more Supermom and a little less Harried Zookeeper.

Stromboli
- 1-2 loaves frozen bread dough
- Olive oil (or, if you’re feeling cheap, vegetable oil works too)
- Seasonings (I like oregano, basil, garlic powder, onion powder, ground mustard, and/or sage)
- Meat (I usually use lunch meat and pepperoni, but hamburger, bacon, or shredded chicken or pork would be good, too)
- Cheese (any and all kinds, lots and lots)
- Vegetables (onions are the best, but use your imagination)

1) The morning of, place bread loaves on two greased pans to thaw and rise.
2) When you’re ready to cook, punch down and roll out the dough.
3) Brush dough with mix of oil and seasonings, leaving a half inch around the edges.
4) Load those puppies down with the good stuff, then pull dough around the goodies, and seal the un-oiled parts together.
5) Generously brush the outside of each stuffed loaf with the oil mixture, and place on a greased cookie sheet.
6) If you like burnt cheese, sprinkle a bit on top of the loaf.
7) Bake at 375 degrees for 20-30 mn.
8) Serve with pizza or spaghetti sauce to dip in – or throw on the floor.

I’m usually a rigid recipe follower. It drives me nuts when I ask for a recipe and someone says, “You add some Ingredient X with a good amount of Ingredient Y…” Give me some stinkin’ amounts, people! But this recipe is so fool-proof, I don’t worry about it anymore. I dump some oil in a bowl and start sprinkling randomness in. If I have too much, I'll make croutons. But I probably never would have tried this meal at all if the above “recipe” was all I had to start with. So, to that end, I’ll tell you that the original recipe called for:

- 1/3 c. oil, 2 eggs, and 1 ½ t total of seasonings for the basting mix
- 1 lb ground beef and 1 pkg of pepperoni for the meat
- 3 c. total of cheese
- 1 small onion, chopped