Weekend Birthday and Recipe

When your boy turns 7 and calls for Dirt Cake, you find yourself saying things like,  Do you want worms in your bowl?  And  How many scoops of Mud Pie ice cream with that?  Charming.  Delicious.  Feeling sick from eating too much dirt, worms, and mud . . . Happy Birthday, my Ian! 

                                          Mmmmmm.

                                          A Swiss Army Knife!  Now I can do anything I want!
                                            O Lord.


DIRT CAKE :

Make any chocolate cake, and break it up into chunks,
Make chocolate pudding,
Make whipped cream  (or get cool whip.  shhh.)
Crush up a whole package of Oreos  (or a knock-off brand.  shhh.)

Layer at least twice, ending with cookies.  Poke gummy worms in.
Done.

This is also great for a party, putting the dessert in one of Walmart's plastic wheel barrows and serving it up with a plastic shovel into plastic flower pots.  I just don't do birthday parties anymore.  Meanie, I know.


In love with my boy Ian,
Allison

Figuring Together

Rees has been working close to thirty hours the past few weeks (not the twenty he'd written on his entry paperwork), but they assure him it will not continue past Mother's Day.  Who is they, Iwouldliketoknow, and how did they acquire such power over my boy?  He is tired ; he has lost weight ; I don't know if he's used the flutter valve enough ; and he is stressed about how to walk the line between being a helpful employee and standing up for himself and his goals.  Ken reminded him of how good his paycheck will be, which did quell the worry and bring on a grin (dimple and all!).

It's impossible to worry about his growing up without worrying about CF.  How long will he able to work?  Will ge be able to find meaningful employment with health insurance?  Enough to support a family?  Should I push strongly encourage him toward something he'll be able to do when his health declines?   S.T.O.P., Mama.   We don't know what the future holds.  Make plans.  Get jobs.  Do stuff.  Adjust.  Change.  Adapt.  As necessary.  Only hindsight is 20/20 so we  (all)  must march on ~ sometimes tiptoeing, sometimes charging with bayonets, sometimes dancing.

So I'll be better about making a pitcherful of the shake for him to take to work ; Ken will pick up earplugs so the wee ones don't wake him prematurely ; and we'll make better use of weekends for discussions on current events, history, theology, and logic ~ family education favorites.  We'll figure it out together in the days and weeks to come. . .

. . . along with figuring out how to help Clare keep calm when attempting long division,

. . . along with figuring out how to get Joseph to stop   s c r e a m i n g   a l l    t h e    t i m e,

. . . along with figuring out how Ken and I can manage a weekend alone somewhere (It's been 11 years).


Ah, life.   Thanks be to God  (I say that often, don't I?) !

Warmly,
Allison

What party?

Last evening, while searching through a recipe file, I happened across a scrap of paper  (And yes, I still use lots of paper scraps, not iphone messages or anything.  Lost in the 80's am I.).  I had scribbled :

Weekend party ~

Cold broccoli salad
Thick salt and vinegar chips
Hot artichoke dip
Sourdough bread
Dark chocolate nuggets
Individual lemon cakes

And I thought, What lucky friends got this menu???   Then, Who can I invite over to eat this menu again???

Even though today is not the weekend, I want to tag this with a Weekend Recipe label so here's the recipe for the broccoli salad :

5 C      Raw broccoli florets
1/2 C   Raisins
1/2 C   Sunflower seeds
1/2 C   Crumbled bacon
1/4 C   Chopped red onion
1 C      Thawed peas
1 C      Mayo
2 T      Vinegar
1/2 C   Sugar

Toss together first 6 ingredients.  Blend last 3 ingredients and stir into salad.

Good for a summer meal.  Or a party!

Warmly,
Allison  

A Charming Compliment

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror : twisting my head left and right, measuring length, checking shapes, pursing lips, overall unhappy with the picture.  I have got to chop my hair and let it grow again, I growled to my hapless husband.  Ian happened to hear my. . . less than genteel voice and spoke up,

Oh no, Mommy ; I LOVE your hair, even when it's messy!

I did melt a little and bent to hug him and thank him  (I resisted the desire to give him candy for such lovely sentiments.).  He sauntered away, pleased with the power of his words.



*It is messy, though, and I'm still going to have it cut.  Maybe just a trim, now.*



Updated 3-1 to add my quirky FB message :

No matter how desperate you may feel about your looks, having your 13 year old son "cut off the scraggles" is NOT A GOOD IDEA.  I've been bobbed.

Joseph's not sure...

                                        

Bubble Bath Peace

Luke was crazy-naughty at the dinner table tonight, eschewing all manners, refusing all food, pouring all water, kicking all legs ~ get the picture?  We yelled, cajoled, and babied, all to no avail, so we sent him upstairs.  Banished from polite society, I believe I said.  Hmmm.

As soon as I was finished, I tiptoed up and discovered him hunched over on his bed, crying softly.  When I suggested  a bubble bath, he turned his teary face toward me and whispered,  Just me?  No one else?  And will you stay in there with me?  So here I am, sitting on the you-know-what, scribbling in a spiral notebook  (updated to this blog later).  He's even pulled the curtain over, creating a watery cave, enjoying the warm solitude.  I'm close, though, at his request, and I listen to my boy's gentle bath-toy play behind a vinyl American flag shower curtain. 

No need to discover what was wrong at dinner.  He's calm and cozy, content and clean.  I plan to brush his teeth, read him a story, and tuck him in to an earlier bedtime.  Tomorrow's a new day.  For all of us.

Thanks be to God,
Allison

Who are the Bad Guys

It was a perfect homeschool afternoon :

The eldest two were working in one room ; the next two were upstairs, putting together some sort of market, where later, the rest of us would pay pennies to retrieve our own possessions stolen for the store ; the baby was napping ; and the four year old was engaged with a cheerful assortment of toy animals, people, and vehicles in our living room wood pile.  The queen reigning over this peaceful scene  (Me!)  was curled up on the couch, close to the wood pile drama.

John, finished with his pre-algebra, meandered out and poked his head around the corner.  Seeing Luke's set-up in the wood must have struck him as entertaining  (young teen boys are awfully cute that way), as he brightened up and slid into place beside his little brother.

Who are the bad guys?  he queried, and Luke, never missing a beat to his game, pointed and explained.  John listened intently, nodded, then joined him, moving things around, knocking things down, and making Boy Noises.  You know what this is, right?  Hardly any recognizable words?

Get down!  Buzsch !  Buzsch!  Buzsch!  Aaaaawwww.   Kgh.  Kgh.
Over there!  Kush, Kush, Kush.   Wiiiiiiiiing!   Splurthrch.
Get it!  Ug.  Ug.  Uuuwwwwah.  Puuagh.

OK. Enough of that.

Who are the bad guys?  He had to acquire that knowledge before commencing the play.  He had to ask the one who had been at it longer  (Really, the one who'd invented the Whole Thing.).  Once the bad guys were identified, he was good.  He could jump in.  He could play hard.  Sometimes the bad guys were avoided ; sometimes they were engaged.  Sometimes they were knocked down ; sometimes they advanced.  Sound familiar?  Mmmm.

We need to know who the bad guys are, too.  Whom do we ask?  Who has been playing longer?  Who created the Whole Thing?

We heard at our church's Great Easter Vigil Mass, eight Scripture readings and eight sung psalms, chronicling salvation history.  God's plans for the game.  Let's listen intently and check in often for confirmation, redirection, and encouragement.  Let's jump in.  The Church knows the Plan.  We can know who the bad guys are.  Let's play!

Weekend Recipe : Peanut butter stuff

Peanut butter is one of the Best Ways to get lots of fat and protein calories.  Here are two of my fastest recipes for when my meal plan (*) falls flat and I'm in a hurry for a good snack  :


OLD FAITHFUL COOKIES

1 C PB
1 C sugar
1 Egg

Mix 'em all together, roll 'em in golf-ball-sized balls, flatten 'em just a bit with criss-cross fork tines, bake 'em about 10 minutes at 350 degrees.  Let 'em cool about 10 minutes, or they'll fall apart.



PB  DOUGH

I'm not really sure this should be classified as a recipe, it's so easy!
Just mix together peanut butter and powdered sugar until it's very stiff.
Give it to the kids to play with and eat.  Ta-da!
(This is one of those foods that you eat tons of because it's so yummy, then feel sick afterwards.  Just so you know.)


* I don't really have a meal plan.  Really Organized Mothers have one and swear by them.  But.  I just don't.


Blessed, warm Holy Week,
Allison