Fun for Kids: Shapes in Space

I got the idea for this from watching Nick Jr. Moose and Zee do a little segment called "Shapes in Space!" and Turtle always pays special attention.

I was very creative renaming it.

You'll need a large piece of black foam, some different colors adhesive foam sheets, star stickers, scissors, and our old friend Mr. Black Sharpie.



I traced some shapes on the back of the adhesive foam: squares, circles, triangles, a hexagon and an octagon.



Then I cut them all out.



I peeled the paper off the backs of the shapes and let Turtle place them, while we talked about the colors and the shapes we were using. This one was deemed "Sticky!"



Yellow circle. Or ye-yow, if you pay attention to that sort of thing.



When all the shapes are placed, I let him add some sparkly star stickers to the mix.



Ooooh. So pretty.



Afterwards, he carried the project around with him and we would ask him what certain shapes and colors were. He was doing great til he got tired, so we put it away for another day.

Have fun!

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Sick-O-Meter: A Pictorial Rundown

I thought it might be fun to play a picture game. MacGyver and I have had a case of what my friend A refers to as the "Creeping Crud." It's nothing specific, really... some congestion, some coughing, general malaise and ickiness. Not quite a cold, not really a flu.

Just. Yuck.

After helping out MacGyver this week and hoping against hope that Turtle's immune system holds strong, I started realizing that it really takes a lot of crud to bring this gal down.

It's a good thing.

So here are my stages of falling to illness, from "mild" to "call for help."

And just because I feel like spending more time than usual on this post, it's illustrated.

Stage 1:


My hair straightener and I don't speak. I've been really good at keeping up with some cute, low-maintenance hairstyles, but when I'm feeling punky, my hair is the first thing to suffer. Never fear, it still gets washed regularly (In fact, more than regularly. For some reason, hairwashing while ill has a somewhat restorative affect for me); it's just not cute.

I abandoned the Chi on Sunday of this week.

Stage 2:

I start drinking tea. A lot of tea. With a lot of honey. I'm a proud caffeine-a-holic, and when I'm not right, Diet Dr. Pepper gets replaced by a little bit of Lipton black tea.

I turned to tea and honey on the same day my hair went out the window.


Stage 3:

Working out goes out the window. I am a dedicated 5-day-a-week girl. No matter what. But if I've got more than a bearable amount of congestion or I'm really dragging, I'll sit out a day. It's not healthy to constantly be pushing oneself physically. Or so they tell me. It's kind of a catch-22. I feel better when I work out, but I'd rather work out when I'm feeling better.

Regardless, I haven't seen my yoga mat in two days.


Stage 4:



I *never* spend a day in "lounge wear." Every day, after I work out and shower, I put on jeans and a cute top or a sundress or some form of "real clothes." Give me the side-eye all you want. I feel more productive when I'm dressed for action, for lack of a better term.

Not so much this week. I switched to yoga pants on Tuesday, spent the day in pajama pants yesterday. I did put on jeans today, so that's a step in the right direction. I wore a really baggy empire style top, to compensate.

We can safely say at this time, I had a Stage 4 Creeping Crud.


Stage 5:


I wear makeup daily. I joke that not even MacGyver has seen me without some form of mascara and eye liner. It's just... well, it's a public service really. There are women who have some kind of natural gorgeousness. And there are women like me who don't. It's cool. But I don't like to terrorize the masses with my "natural look," so if I do, something's wrong with me. Chances are, I'm probably pretty close to bedridden at this point, or so delirious that my hand can't hold the mascara wand steady.


Stage 6:



I shave daily. If I take two showers in a day for whatever reason, I will shave both times. I wish I could wax, but I can't handle the commitment necessary to get to the proper point. I'm not made of strong enough stuff.

I can recall two times in my shaving lifetime where I skipped this vital part of my routine. One time was when I had food poisoning in the Bahamas, and the other was when I had a hospitalizing case of strep throat in college. I shaved immediately before and after my gallbladder removal and I shaved as my first order of business when I was allowed to shower after I had Turtle. It's *that* important.

If I can't pick up a razor, please consider calling for help. I'm in dire need.


And last, but not least, Stage 7:


I have a very bad habit of having a bowl of ice cream each night after dinner. Granted, I don't have a Reese's Pieces Sundae every night (or ever, really, thank you so much, Friendly's, for not being anywhere remotely near us), but it's my thing, nonetheless.

Be warned, if I refuse ice cream, hope may be pretty close to lost.

Or else, I'm pregnant.

On that note, I'm off to get some cookies & cream before bed. Hopefully, it chases off what's left of the Crud.

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Marching to the Beat of His Own Drummer

When Mommy and Daddy are down and out, the best thing to do is have a parade.

Turtle makes the perfect drummer boy.





Daddy leads the way!



A basketball on the parade route.



Always focusing on the beat.

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Recipe: Spinach Tortellini Soup

Since we're all under the weather, it's time I shared with you a great and super-simple recipe for yummy soup.

I know "they" say that chicken soup is one of the best remedies for whatever ails you, but... well, I don't like it. Ya'll must think I'm so picky. And I'm not. Honestly. Chicken soup just never did it for me. There's something about wet fowl that just doesn't compute positively in my taste buds.

So instead, I make this. I guess you could toss some chicken in it if you had to. Your soup pot, your decision. :)

First, we'll prep our crostadas. Soup isn't soup without something yummy to dip in it.

I set the oven to broil and cut some Chicago-style italian bread into long pieces. They got lined up on a foil lined baking dish.



I gave them a nice brushing of olive oil.



Then hit them with some ground black pepper, kosher salt and grated parmesan cheese. These will take less than 5 minutes to toast up in the broiler, so set them aside til the end.



I melted about 2 tbsp of butter in the bottom of a big soup pot (you can use olive oil if you like, but today, I wanted the taste of butter). Add some minced garlic (I used 3 cloves).



Half of a chopped red onion.



And some carrot. Honestly, add whatever veggies you like, or need to use up. Soup is great for that.



When the veggies are tender (but still have a little snap), add your chicken broth. I prefer low-sodium. One box should do it. I didn't quite have a full carton because I used the broth for enchiladas the other day, so...



I made up the difference with white wine. Shocking, I know.



Carefully add a block of frozen, chopped spinach and bring the liquids to a boil. Cover and let boil for about 4-5 minutes, or until the spinach is cooked.



Remove lid. Throw your crostadas in the broiler. Add a bag of frozen tortellini to the soup and continue boiling for about 2 1/2 minutes.



And bam! Garnish with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese for a little extra something and there you have it. Healthy, full of nutrients, hearty and delish!

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Recipe: Gravy (this means sauce in Italian)

I am sure I have mentioned my dislike of homemade red sauce.

However, yesterday, I planned on making braciole, and thought I would really score extra points with the judges if I just did the whole thing from scratch.

So.

I prepped up my veggies. A red onion, diced; three cloves of garlic, minced; one diced carrot and one diced celery stalk. I like veggies.

All of that goes into a saute pan with a little bit of olive oil.



And then dump it all into the (drumroll, please) crockpot. Which you should have sprayed first with some cooking spray.



Add one can of crushed tomatoes.



A small can of tomato paste.



About a tablespoon of sugar.



Some fresh parsley and oregano.



Black pepper and kosher salt to taste.



A wee little bit of crushed red pepper.



And some basil. This would have been much better if I had some fresh, but due to the unpredictable freezes, I still have not replanted mine.



Give it a stir and set it on low for 6-8 hours.



Now, the braciole did not happen, due to circumstances beyond my control. But I did serve this up for MacGyver with some mezze penne and italian bread.



PS. When the cooking is finished, you're supposed to give it a blend with the food processer, immersion blender, or regular blender to make it all smooth and pretty. Given the day I was having, there is no way that would have ended without red sauce all over my white ceiling, so we did it "homestyle."

Mangia!

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The Saga of Tuesday, In Which I Almost Lost My Mind

I don't often do this.

You may rightfully accuse me of posting more positive things. I tend not to dwell on temper tantrums and domestic squabbles, and move along to the more amusing portion of our days. Fortunately, I am able to find amusement in just about everything, so most stories are just ... funny.

But yesterday. Oh, yesterday.

Let me set the scene.

MacGyver and I both have had a case of the Creeping Crud (thanks for coining the term, A. It's fantasitically accurate). Not exactly sick, not exactly *not* sick. Just... yucky.

Yesterday, Turtle and I were good. Well enough to go out, not well enough to run marathons. I figured I would get started on a homemade sauce for the even more homemade braciole I wanted to make, do a little workout, and then after lunch and nap, we could maybe browse around Target.

I also wanted to make a King Cake for Fat Tuesday.

Of course, when I consulted the recipe, I realized I was somehow missing half the ingredients. Ok. That was a no.

So I started on the sauce. Fine. Got it all chopped, prepped and in the crockpot, to simmer all day, as per Italian Law. Neat.

Worked out, blogged, emailed.

Turtle woke up from nap a little early, and proceeded to give us the "no" treatment through lunch. He then engaged in putting food in his mouth and then opening his mouth so that it all tumbles down him and on to the floor.

Which was freshly mopped.

He finds it hilarious. I find it not.

At about this time, I was really getting upset. While I know it's nothing personal, considering he's not even 2 and probably has no idea how to really push mommy's buttons (at least that's what I keep telling myself), it was getting to me.

So I excused myself for ten minutes. I laid on the bed. I read a few pages of The Rose of Martinique (fascinating read about Empress Josephine). I cried a few tears.

And then I was good.

So back downstairs I went, refreshed and rejuvenated.

MacGyver told me that he was closing down shop because he was having a hard time talking, so I could leave Turtle with him for a bit while I ran errands.

And then he started coughing and took it all back.

Alrighty then.

So I packed a bag, and headed out the door. My original plan was Publix. But then I got daring.

I wanted to look at immersion blenders.

So I said what the hey? Let's go to Target, too.

Turtle was jovial. He loves the car. We arrive and he breaks into his "Walk! Cart! Walk! Cart!" routine. It's a classic. It means he would like to walk, but damn that cart looks fine, so he would like to ride.

Except this time, it really meant he wanted to walk.

So under the gaze of what seemed to be at least twenty tutting grandmothers, I somehow managed to bribe my child into the cart, where he proceeded to shriek, while stuffing his mouth full of chickadees (bribery fail, anyone?). I was just about to strap him back in his carseat when he settled down and asked for his water, and we were good to go.

And it was a great trip. So great that I treated myself to a new cutting board (since our wooden one has a split in it), new measuring spoons (since mine had a tangle with the garbage disposal) and some pinch bowls (just because). I racked up savings on toilet paper and napkins, got Turtle a hooded towel, a birthday card for my BIL, and a book from the $1 spot. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.

I passed on the immersion blender. I couldn't decide between that and a food processer (feel free to discuss).

We circled back to Publix, got the rest of the goods for King Cake, the provolone for the braciole, and home again, home again, jiggity jog.

While Turtle runs off to play, I start to put away the groceries. I opened the refrigerator door and get beaned in the face by the glass butter dish.

Which then plummets to the tile floor.

And shatters.

Everywhere.

So.

I get on my hands and knees with a roll of painter's tape, sticking up each and every splinter of glass I can. Over and over and over again. It was everywhere.

In the meantime, Turtle is yelling for me, and I can't go to him and he can't come to me.

It's also dinnertime, so I manage to cook up some tortellini, while cleaning, and get it in a bowl with a little homemade sauce.

MacGyver attempts to put Turtle in his seat, which results in screaming.

Which results in me very quietly starting to cry. Partly because of the screaming, partly because of all the glass and partly because I realize I need to clean my grout at some point in the immediate future.

Are we having fun yet?

After a few more failed attempts at dinner, MacGyver whisks Turtle upstairs for bath. I take the opportunity to vacuum each and every line of grout in the kitchen. Twice.

Turtle pretended to be ready for bed, but he wasn't. And he put up a huge protest and fuss. Normally, he settles right down, so I figured we could give him a few minutes and see if he could calm himself.

Leaving MacGyver in charge of the bedtime situation, I started back in on the braciole. I mixed up the filling, loving my new cutting board and pinch bowls.

I got out the meat and was ready to start stuffing.

And then I realized that the meat was a color no meat should ever be.

(PS - MacGyver purchased this meat in violation of our meat buying guidelines. Yeah. I told him so.)

And you know what? I cried. I did. Because I spent a lot of time trying to make something that MacGyver loves and it was just not happening. At all.

Some things got said. At one point, MacGyver asked if I wanted some cake, because cake makes everything better. That wasn't the point. But yes, it does.

And so we return to Turtle. Poor Turtle, who was all out of sorts. He had some applesauce. And then we learned something we didn't know before.

The kid loves Wheel of Fortune. He was clapping and shouting out letters and getting all into it. Granted, he kept yelling "W", but whatever. He totally gets it.

And after the bonus round, he went straight to bed.

And Mommy drank a beer.

And Mommy also told Daddy that he was going to eat chunky sauce and he was going to like it because it was supposed to take a spin in the blender, but given the day we were all having, it was probable that the sauce was going to end up on the ceiling in some tragic blender malfunction, so we were just going to remove that part of the equation. Any questions? No? Good.

Fade to black.

So you see, it's not always Operation Smooth Sailing over here. I was not a fan of yesterday. Today is better.

PS. I was trying to share some nostalgia with Turtle and explain to him that back when Mommy was little, people on Wheel of Fortune didn't get the RSTLNE as freebies in the bonus round, in addition to 3 more consonants and one more vowel. MacGyver disagrees and says contestants *always* got RSTLNE as freebies and didn't get to pick anything else. Please feel free to vote.

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Fat Tuesday Flashback!

I love walks down Memory Lane. Don't you?

So today, I'd like to take you way back. Back to when I was fresh out of college and one of my bestest friends, N, and I decided we were going to go to Mardi Gras.

Because, what else do you do when you're young and crazy and fresh out of college?

Right.

So we booked our flight, and N's friend's family owned a gorgeous house in the French Quarter that we could use. Every year, they had a whole bunch of people stay, but we were totally VIP and got a bedroom, while the other poor saps had to fight for space on the couches and the wraparound porch.

Haha, poor saps. Haha.

There was a horrible moment, when there was some kind of airport strike or pilot strike and flights were being canceled right and left. And then somehow, by some miracle, N got us on some plane. And I remember throwing things in a suitcase and ripping to the airport, and we were *those people*, who were tearing pellmell through the terminal, bags bouncing haphazardly behind us, boarding passes flapping in the breeze.

This was clearly back before 9/11, when they would let you squeeze on to the plane just as the door was being closed, flushed from your sprint, and possibly with a dislocated shoulder from hauling oversized luggage.

And so we arrived. I remember getting picked up in a 2 door hatchback by N's friend, and riding along with open containers (because it was legal in Louisiana) and the most amazingly delicious shrimp po' boys.

I remember the gorgeous house, and the people everywhere.

Now, this is really reaching back. Yes. More than a decade ago. So I'm spotty on details.

I remember it was freezing out. And the first night I drank so much beer that I couldn't touch the stuff the rest of the time, because everything smelled of stale hops.

I remember traveling with a house load of people, all squeezed into some ginormous bus/conversion van type of deal, as we went from parade to parade. Thank the good lord for rum.

I remember that the crowds on Bourbon Street were so dense that if you stepped off the curb, it took a few minutes before your feet actually hit the ground. You were literally carried along by a crush of people. Which was probably preferable to actually walking on the ground, because it was sticky with a mash of booze and beer and God only knows what else.

I remember going to this one bar that served this one shot that tasted like Sweet Tarts. But they would only serve you one because it was just that strong. And it was really good, but I have no idea what it was called.

I remember going to a parade in Houma and we had to stop at a drive-through Bloody Mary place. They were the best Bloody Mary's in the history of the world. True story.

I remember beignets and chicory at Cafe du Monde at 4am. Heaven. And the Neville Brothers at House of Blues on Valentine's Day.

I remember that no one was flashing, because it was just that cold. But we all got beads anyway.

I dug out my photo album today, since MacGyver was on the computer with the scanner, I took pictures of my old pictures to share with you.

This photo is at some kind of Crawfish Festival. Jersey Girls don't know anything about crawfish, so I had to get a lesson from a local.

Recognize that face? That's Raw Poultry Face. Apparently, it also applies to crawfish.



I was really brave. I sucked the head. They said I had to. I have no regrets.



And this lovely group shot was taken in Houma. See that guy laying on the ground with the crawfish bag full of beads? Yeah, I got hit with that. Towards the end of the parade, the people on the floats were just tossing things willy nilly and I got knocked flat out. That was *my* bag. That thing got hauled around pretty much right until we had to go to the airport when I realized there was absolutely no point in carrying about 20lbs of plastic beads and had to consolidate.

It was definitely a highlight of my life.



So thanks for joining me on this little trip to the past. It was an amazing trip, and we had such a blast.

Happy Fat Tuesday to all, and to all a good night!

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