Free rice!

Check out my favorite website http://www.freerice.com/ and help to end world hunger, 20 grains of rice at a time! Be careful, though, it can be addictive!

Amazing picture of the week

At first glance, this may not seem like an amazing picture. Actually, the picture itself isn't really that good.

What is amazing, is what it represents. This is a picture of my feet. They are propped on the arm of the couch. Which means I am laying on the couch. Which means I'm not standing, running, cooking, cleaning, retrieving, picking up, or carrying. This is the amazing part. As I'm admiring the rugged state of my feet (no pedicures here) I realize how infrequently this happens. I don't even eat sitting down. The only time my feet do not touch the ground is when I am in bed. Which isn't for long. So, I've decided to try to take at least one (short) time during the day, and put my feet up. The poor suckers deserve it.

California Veggie Rolls

Okay, I know this isn't a recipe blog, but I had to put this one up too. It's fun to make, fun to eat, fun to serve--what more could you ask for??

California Veggie Rolls

1 package (8 oz.) cream cheese, softened

1/2 teaspoon Lawry's Garlic Powder with Parsley (or just garlic powder)

1/2 teaspoon Lemon Pepper

6 large or 12 regular size flour tortillas (or however many your ingredients can make!)

1 large bunch fresh spinach leaves, cleaned and stems removed

1 1/2 cups (6 oz.) shredded cheddar cheese

1 1/2 cups shedded carrots

Fresh Salsa

In small bowl, blend together cream cheese, garlic powder, and lemon pepper. On each flour tortilla, spread a layer of cream cheese mixture. Layer spinach leaves, cheddar cheese, and carrots over cream cheese mixture. Roll up tortillas. Slice each tortilla into 1 1/2 inch pieces. Serve with salsa. Makes 3 dozen.

Everyday Monsters

All three of my children are pretty fearless. On the 4th of July, Sofia went down the (very tall) slide at my aunt's pool without a second thought. Sam's exploits are evident by the number of trips we make to the ER. Ben is generally in the middle of anything exciting that is happening. My kids have never been afraid of the dark. Never afraid of the drain in the bathtub. Never afraid of sitting on the toilet. But last week, Ben has developed his first semi-rational fear. He has a fear of almost any appliance with an electrical cord.

I first became aware of this fear after Sam dumped an ice chest with several inches of water upside down onto the family room carpet. Mommy not happy. But Mommy prepared. I pulled out my hand-held Bissell spot cleaner from the dark recesses of the laundry room to vacuum up the water. I'm actually a bit happy about it--I can get my money's worth out of the contraption, since this is already the second time I've used it in seven years!

Anyways, as I'm sucking up the water, Ben starts to whimper, staring at the puddle on the floor. Although it was Sam who dumped the water to begin with, the boys often will have "sympathy sadness." If one did something bad & got into trouble, they both with cry in remorse. So I figured he was just helping his brother express his regret at the trouble he had caused. But the whimpering grew more and more insistent. After I got as much water as my weak little machine could suck, I put the vacuum on the counter, out of temptation from little curious hands. Ben walked over in front of it, and kept pointing to it, saying "mama, mama, mama, mama."

They are at the stage right now where they will point to an object to hear it's name.

"Uh-uh-uh," says Sam, pointing.

"Yes, Sam, that's a octopus."

"Uh-uh-uh. Mama," says Ben.

"Yes, Ben, that's a jar of pickle relish."

Well, this time Ben just wouldn't stop. His eyebrows were furrowed, the corners of his mouth pinched together, his whiny little voice gaining more and more urgency, no matter how many times I told him it was a vacuum.

"Mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama."

Finally, I grew exasperated and put the little vacuum back in the closet from whence it emerged. I guess that's one way to make me clean up after myself! But I figured he was just bothered by the strange appliance he had never seen before.

The next day I pulled out the Dyson to vacuum the downstairs & stairs. Usually, the boys are all over the vacuum. They love climbing on it, pushing it over, turning it on. It's one expensive jungle gym for them. But that day was different. As soon as Ben saw me bring it out, the whimpering began in earnest. I thought, I don't have time for this, get over it, kid. (I'm such a compassionate and caring parent sometimes!) and proceeded to vacuum.

It's not a good sign when you can hear the wailing of your child above the noise of a full-sized vacuum cleaner. But the stairs weren't going to clean themselves, so I went to work. By the time I finished all 17 steps, Ben was near hysterics. He was having a mini-meltdown. I thought perhaps he didn't like me vacuuming. So I stopped. But it wasn't just the noise that was bothering him. Even after I turned it off, he was still crying and pointing, "Mama, mama, mama, mama!" He didn't stop until I wound it up and put it back in the laundry room & shut the door. Even then, he kept throwing fearful glances toward the closed door, perhaps wondering if the beast would emerge of its own free will.

Benny has been having this reaction to a number of appliances too. It's not limited to vacuums. I now cannot use a hand mixer (no more cookies!), a food processor, any outdoor electrical tools, or a floor fan. It sends him into a breakdown.

Of course, part of me says, "Well, you're never too young to face your fears!" because I don't really want to be inconvenienced by the limited use of this equipment. After all, who wants to spend their time during those precious hours after the kids are asleep with vacuuming?? But right now, it's either that, or have an hysterical toddler on my hands. And of course, when one is hysterical, at least one more, and sometimes two, siblings have to show their solidarity by joining in--it can be a real choir.

So if you're planning on coming by my house in the foreseeable future, please don't plan on clean floors, freshly baked cookies, or the gentle breeze of fans circulating the fragrant air throughout our lovely home.

Who am I kidding? You couldn't count on those things before, anyways!

Peanut Butter Granola

I inherited this recipe from my childhood, and I'm eating some right now. It's kind of addictive, so beware. I'm pretty sure it's semi-healthy, too, so I guess that makes up for the fact that I can finish off the whole batch by myself in less than a week. Easily. Also, if you're not afraid of a little mess, kids can help make it, too. Here it is:

6 cups quick oatmeal

1 cup wheat germ

1 cup sesame seeds

1 cup chopped nuts (I usually use walnuts, but I'm guessing any will work)

3/4 cups honey

2 teaspoons salt

3 teaspoons vanilla

1 cup peanut butter

7 oz. shredded coconut

Combine all ingredients, rubbing back and forth between hands until crumbly (did I mention this might get a little messy??). Bake in cookie sheets (the kind with an edge!) at 225 degrees for about 2 hours. Does not need to be stirred. Makes about 11 cups. Goes great with milk, or with yogurt (hello, road trips!).

Yum Yum!

What does Mom know?

Tonight for dinner we had angel hair pasta with sun dried tomato pesto sauce and steamed broccoli (someone call Martha Stewart). The kids, of course, loved the angel hair pasta. I told Sofia she had to eat three pieces of broccoli, since she's three years old, or else she had to eat the green beans (no, you heard me right. We weren't actually having green beans for dinner, but when given the choice between anything and green beans, she'll eat whatever else that isn't green beans. Works like a dream so far). I then glanced at the boys, and decided I didn't want to mess with the mashed up, ripped apart, squished around broccoli that would inevitably find its way onto the floor, chairs, and hair--everywhere but in the mouth. Kids don't like broccoli. But Filipe insisted, and so I gave a small piece to Sam & Ben.

I went over to the counter to load up my plate, and when I came back to the table, sure enough, Ben's tray had magically turned green. I looked at Sam, and I didn't see the green mush I expected. I looked under him, beside him, under his chair, everywhere, but I couldn't find where he stashed his broccoli! I thought he's way more advanced in the art of hiding food than he ought to be at 20 months. Filipe said he must have eaten it. Yeah, right. But I gave him another piece, because, gosh-darn-it, he needs his greens. As I'm standing there, looking straight at him, he takes that piece of broccoli, and without any hesitation or cajoling, puts it right into his mouth and eats it. And then asked for more!

So I have learned today that I need to refrain from putting my preconcieved notions on my children. I think that children don't like broccoli, but I think sometimes it's because mommy or daddy don't like broccoli, and so they think it must be bad. Or, even worse, mommy just figures they wouldn't like it, and they never get the chance to try it! So new resolution: offer the kids everything, even if I'm sure they won't like it. After all, maybe next time I'll find Ben with a mouth full of brussel sprouts. You never know.

Ode to Papa

In yet another example of how a grandpa is simply the most amazing man on earth, here's a picture of my three very active children. Notice their stillness. The three of them sat there at the kitchen window for at least 15 minutes (a freakin' miracle) without so much as a peep. They were watching Papa cut some boards with a table saw. Fascinating, apparently.

The magic touch

My mom has been telling Sofia how Mommy had a monkey swing when she was little, and Sofia, of course, decided that life would not be complete without having one. So when Papa came home with a monkey swing, she waited (almost) patiently all day for Papa to put it up in the tree for her. As soon as she woke up this morning, and saw it was ready, she had to try it out. Judging by the look on her face, it wasn't as fun as she expected! Of course, it was Mommy who was helping her swing, so when she didn't like it, she decided it must be my fault. She told me she wanted Papa to help her. Fine. And funny thing is, when Papa helped her, she like it. Ah, the magic touch of a grandpa.

Great bedtime book

We just got this book from the library, and it's awesome. It's great for someone whose kids love to read, and love to read lots and lots and lots of bedtime stories. Check it out!