Blended

I'm Thankful for...Chaos. (and Wine)

Here’s the thing:  Living 2,000 miles away from your sister totally sucks.  But if you’re lucky enough to have a sibling like I do, then it sucks less.  Last weekend, Manhattan Sister, her husband Uncle New York and my East Coast Parents all flew out here for an early Thanksgiving celebration.  (Because let’s face it, it is WAY easier for them to drag their butts out here to South Dakota than it is for us to drag the butts of 6 children all the way back to Boston or New York City.)

 

From the moment they walked in the door, the giggling never stopped.  All six kids attacked them and hung on for dear life.  Within seconds they had created personal jokes:  “Why did the chicken cross the road?  Because he got runned over!”  “Why did the chicken cross the road?  Because he had CHEEEESE for dinner.”  I’m fairly certain that even the creators of these “jokes” did not understand what was making them funny, but that didn’t stop them from rolling on the floor laughing every time they were repeated (ad nauseum). 

 

The girls were learning a special song for their school holiday concert, which had lyrics about the season of winter:  “It’s a glorious time of the year!  It’s a wonderful season of cheer!”  The timing of this new song fit perfectly with my sister’s arrival, so she helped the girls change the lyrics: “It’s glorious Aunt Melly’s here!  It’s wonderful because she’s here!”  This, of course, caused even more giggling, and the repetition of the new lyrics every four seconds for the whole weekend.

 

Gabby and my sister, setting the table for Thanksgiving, came up with a new way to celebrate, using the sparkly confetti I’d bought for the table.

 

 

This, of course, led to more giggling, and the unavoidable glitter-fight, which left me picking pieces of sparkly confetti out of my children’s hair, the chandeliers and my pants for the next several days.

 

Manhattan Sister also introduced my children to the wonderful concept of  planking.  They planked the couch, the coffee table, the pool table…and each other.

 
Thanks Manhattan Sister.

 

On the day of “Thanksgiving,” actually a random Saturday in November because that’s how we roll, my husband decided to take Uncle New York hunting for pheasants.  (When in South Dakota….) They triumphantly returned, about six hours later, with two pheasants.  East Coast Hippie Grandparents cringed as the children ran around the house with the feathers plucked from the dead birds.  Manhattan Sister and I bit our tongues until the feathers ended up in the dinner table centerpiece.  We drew the line.

During Thanksgiving preparations, my sister and I did some traditional things:  Make sure we have “real” cranberry sauce (you know, the kind in the jar) in addition to mom’s “fancy” cranberry sauce. (you know, the kind with real cranberries in it). And some untraditional things:  Like figure out how to fry stuffing.  Hey!  If you are in South Dakota, you fry the turkey!  And if you’re frying the turkey, why not make mashed potato-stuffed stuffing balls and fry them up too!  And while you’re at it, try frying the pie.

 

The turkey, stuffing and pie all tasted delicious, but the outside of the turkey didn’t look so good when it came out.

 

 

Gabby’s face fell when she entered the room to see it.  “What happened to it?” she asked sadly.  But it was delicious!  Of course, anything fried in oil is delicious, and on this holiday, there’s no guilt about eating healthy.

 

But the funniest moments of our weekend, by far, were at the Thanksgiving table.  I’m not sure exactly how to explain it, so I’ll try snippets of overheard conversation:

 

Me: Gabby, please don’t put the confetti in the butter.

 

Kid 1: I’m going to Canada.

Kid 2:  Well I’m going to another country!

Kid 1:  Canada IS another country!

Kid 2: Nuh-uh!

Etc…

 

Dinner is served.  Everyone is chewing. There is silence. Suddenly:

Gabriella:  Justin Bieber is my BOYFRIEND!

 

 

Kid 1: I’m thankful for my family

Manhattan Sister: I’m thankful for my family too.

Kid 2: I’m thankful that Christmas is coming

Kid 3: We gettin’ any presents on Fanksgiving?

Kid 4: No, dummy.  No presents on Thanksgiving,

Kid 5: I’m thankful for presents!

Kid 6: Justin Bieber is my boyfriend!

Me: I’m thankful for wine.

Manhattan Sister: I take it back, I’m thankful for Bill frying stuff.

 

East Coast Dad: I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach.

Uncle New York: I think my eyes were bigger than my liver.

Levi: Eyes big!  Tummy hurt.

Bill: Don’t throw up in here, it’s white carpet.

 

Then there was this:

  

 

And why, you ask, do I allow this kind of shenanigans at my Thanksgiving Dinner table?  2 reasons:

 

1.  Because I am apparently not in control of the situation and if I didn’t laugh, I might die.

2.  Because they had CHEEEEESE for dinner!

  They only look normal...

Special thanks to East Coast Mom and Dad and Manhattan Sister and Brother-in-law for dragging their butts out here, for making us laugh all weekend and especially for helping the children learn the lyrics to the Aunt Melly Song, which has resulted in only two phone calls home from the school music teacher.

My husband "planking" after a big turkey dinner.  Or maybe he's just sleeping on the floor.

 

 

The Fridge Saga

My refrigerator has been slowly dying.  It has been a long and torturous death (mostly for us).  Each time I open it, I find little pools of water on top of the sour cream, filling the strawberry container, causing the egg carton to disintegrate…

 

We need a new fridge, honey.

I know.

 

The pools have been getting large lately – cardboard cream cheese boxes gets stuck to the shelf.  Saran Wrap covering leftovers sags under the extra weight.

 

Bill, we REALLY need a new fridge.

I know.

 

The vegetable and fruit crispers start filling up with water.  We can bob for apples in our own fridge.

 

Bill!  We NEED A NEW FRIDGE NOW!

I’m not sure which was the actual final straw – whether I actually nagged my husband into submission, or whether he was finally convinced by the waterfall that occurred IN MY KITCHEN while I was preparing h’or d’eurves for 20 for the baby shower I hosted on Sunday – but I am the proud owner of a brand new fridge!

 

My husband, the world’s upmost follower of the “measure-twice-cut-once" rule, in fact did not measure at all when he set out to purchase our new appliance.  Perhaps he was caught off-guard by the sobbing wife in his kitchen, or the 300 appetizers laid out on the counter.

 

He came home with a beautiful new fridge – the display model because I HAD TO HAVE IT RIGHT NOW – and tried to get it into the house.  Problem number one:  it wouldn’t fit in the door.

 

As he and I friend struggled under the bulk and weight of the bottom-freezer-automatic-ice-maker-stainless-steel-doesn’t-rain-inside beauty, I helped enormously by yelling, “PIVOT!  PI-VOT!”  Ala Ross from friends.  Strangely, they were not entertained.  Nor, did they effectively pivot.

 

After removing the handles from the new fridge, my front door from the hinges and the children from underfoot, they managed to wrestle the fridge into the kitchen.  There, they discovered something.  The fridge was about 3 inches taller and 2 inches wider than our old one.  That didn’t seem like such a big deal to me, but the men did not think my idea of “push harder” would work and instead decided to destroy the cabinets above and beside the fridge.

 

Bill worked for hours, with all sorts of tools that made all sorts of horrible noises and an enormous mess in the kitchen.  He cut three fingers, and suffered through the fact that the only bandaids in our home were blue and featured Nemo.  The end result looks okay as long as you don’t look directly at it, or try to open the cabinets…  You see, in order to make the fridge fit, but the cabinets still look good, the boys took out the inside shelf, trimmed the edges and then just nailed the doors back on.  They don’t open anymore which wouldn’t be an issue except that the destroyed cabinet used to be where I kept the wine.  (No bother – the counter is much more convenient.)

 

I know my husband worked extremely hard lifting, carrying, fixing, sawing, gluing, hammering and cleaning up afterward, but I’m sure you’ll agree I had the hardest job:

 

After he finished, I had to google the map of the USA so I could put all of our state magnets up in the right spot!  Woe is me!!

 

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

Wordless Wednesday - October 19, 2011

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

Me vs the Universe

I have a schedule.  In my daily planner, I write down everything that must happen that day, and at exactly what time it should happen.  The rest of the day then becomes a knock-down-drag-out battle against the universe to stick to that schedule.

 

Today, the universe won.

 

I write this now, camped out on the living room floor.  As we wait for Bill to return from a week away on business, we are eating the world’s laziest dinner – hot dogs rolled up in crescent rolls.  No vegetables. The kids are drinking orange soda.  On the white carpet.  I don’t care.  I have succumbed to this day.  I probably don’t have to tell you about the class of wine that is balanced rebelliously on my computer.  If you’ve been reading this blog for any meaningful amount of time, you already knew it was there.

 

Today’s disaster actually begins a few weeks ago.  As you know, we were suckered into buying Freakin' Hamsters for our daughters at the end of the summer.   Around the same time, I received another pleading email from the soccer concession stand coordinator.  For some reason, this time, her guilt trip worked and I agreed to work in the stand a few times.  (Because I didn’t already dread soccer enough …now I get to make hotdogs and walking tacos all morning!)

 

These two decisions collided as I walked in this morning for my first day as a volunteer.  I learned how to make hot pretzels and find every imaginable color of Gatorade.  I learned how to determine the difference between the bucket of regular gummy worms and the sour ones.  I learned how to work the hot chocolate machine (because where I live, it is 40 degrees on September 17…).  I did not, however, learn to successfully make change.  There’s clearly a reason I’m an English teacher, not a math one.

 

Any way, about 15 minutes into my shift, my phone rang.  As my new friends – the other guilt-tripped mommies – laughed at my Brady Bunch ringtone, I slipped out and answered the call from home.  It was Emily.  It was about the Freakin’ Hamsters.  Now, I have received hysterical Freakin’ Hamster-related phone calls about once a day since we first gave in to the ridiculous idea. 

 

“One got out!”

“They all got out!”

“Mine’s stuck in the tube!”

“They’re fighting!”

“Hannah said mine is ugly!”

“They’re out again!”

 

But this phone call was the worst.  One of those stinkin’ rodents just up and died on me.  Great.  My first thought, I will admit, was “Three to go…” but that’s only because I was exhausted from staying up all night wondering if hamsters could climb bedskirts – the latest one had been lost while having a semi-supervised adventure in my bedroom.  Freakin’ Hamsters.   This, however, was a tragedy of new proportions. 

 

I calmed the children, encouraged them to get ready for their soccer game and quickly returned to my soccer-mom duties at the popcorn machine.  A few minutes later, the kids arrived at soccer in pleasant moods, encouraged, perhaps, by the idea that now Mommy was BEHIND the counter, and therefore couldn’t possibly say no to a treat.  $40 later, I left my post and joined them on the sidelines to watch the big girls freeze their butts off while trying to play soccer.

 

After the game, I had 2 hours and 15 minutes to get to the grocery store, the mall and home before returning to the field for soccer pictures (because I need another $13 team photo that looks exactly the same as last year but with a different colored jersey).   We raced through the grocery store, picking up a week’s worth of groceries for eight in less than 25 minutes.  Of course, I also spent about twice as much as I planned... but at least we were fast. 

 

Then, we ran into the mall.  Gabby has a great week planned at preschool next week – they are learning the colors!  This is very exciting and means that she gets to wear a new head-to-toe color each day.  Great! Except our child does not currently own head-to-toe outfits in every color of the rainbow.  As the children and I raced through JC Penney looking for green pants, an orange pair of socks and yellow shoelaces, my phone rang.  Since all of the children were with me and the three surviving hamsters can’t dial a phone, I braced myself.  Turns out they had pushed soccer pictures up by 15 minutes. 

 

Forget the socks. I’ll just paint her toenails orange.  We’re outta here.

 

We raced into the soccer field with 36 seconds to spare.  Thankfully it was colder than the refrigerator out there, so we didn’t have to worry about the groceries going bad in car while we waited for ten 9-year-olds to smile at the same time.

 

We went home afterward and unloaded the groceries.  Inside the kitchen, we were surprised to find a bee, which, being the only adult in the house at the time, I was obliged to kill.  I chased it around for a while, screaming like a girl, until finally, it landed in the sink.  Seizing my opportunity, I drowned the sucker in the garbage disposal.

 

Taking a breath, I thought, there is definitely a reason this parenting thing is supposed to be done in pairs.

 

Facebook – I just put my Special K cereal in a bowl of ice cream.  That counts, right?  #thatkindofday  #fiveoclockyet?

 

As I finished the thorough house cleaning I had begun earlier in the morning, I noticed another bee - this one downstairs while starting the dryer.  Weird that bee season is so late here, I thought, but I’m still getting used to this climate, so I went with it.  This time, though, I just closed it into the laundry room and ran away.  Sounds like a pretty good reason to stop doing laundry if you ask me!

 

Back upstairs I noticed that there was something weird spread all over the backyard.  Upon closer examination, I realized that it was an archery target completely destroyed by the stupid dog.

 

Facebook – Dear Bill, Just out of curiosity, how much does one of those stuffed archery targets cost?  And, hypothetically, if something – let’s say a dog – were to EAT the stuffing out of one, would it be toxic?  No reason, just doing some, err, research…Love Jody  (and, perhaps, Brady?)

 

Back inside after cleaning up the destruction in the back yard, I heard a shriek from upstairs.  My daughter, dressing for her second soccer game of the day (because of course there were two) had been stung by a bee on her foot.  Without enough time to calm her, treat it AND get to soccer, I texted the coach – sorry: we’re out.

 

I treated the wound, hugged and kissed the wounded, and tried to get my day back on track.  There were still at least nine things on my to-do list that hadn’t been tackled yet.

 

Then I saw another bee.

 

And realized this wasn’t a coincedence.

 

And then we found the nest.

 

Facebook – And because we’re having SUCH a stellar day, bees have built a nest inside my house.  Yes.  You heard me right.  Bees.  Inside.

 

I gave up.  I had only enough strength left to roll the hot dogs into the crescent rolls and open the bottle of wine.

 

That’s when I heard the crash upstairs.  I ran into my bedroom to find the light fixture hanging from the ceiling.

 

Facebook - Dear Bill, Something happened.  Time to come home now.  Love, your frazzled wife, lunatic children, 3 (not 4) hamster, two naughty dogs, and about 2,000 bees.

 

Facebook The Next Morning - Today is shaping up to be much better than yesterday! After a day of dealing with dead hamsters, indoor bee's nests, and broken light fixtures, I woke up this morning to find Bill home! Today he gets to bury the hamster, kill the bees and fix the lights. Me? I'm gonna write a story about it.

 

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

 

What a Difference a Day Makes

We had been kid-free for a week.  Bill’s kids came back Sunday morning.  I love them.  I miss them desperately when they are gone.  I absolutely cannot believe how quickly our life changes completely from one day to the next!  They certainly keep us entertained!

 

Saturday Breakfast:  Bill and I ate a leisurely breakfast at a quaint little restaurant in the Black Hills.  We were maybe a little bored of looking at only each other’s faces for the last week.

 

Sunday Breakfast:  Bill and I hastily acknowledged each other’s presence as we poured cereal, cleaned up spilled juice and tried to be heard over the banging piano – currently covered in syrup.  It’s all worth it because everyone cleans their plates and Levi says, “Yummy Dody!”

 

Saturday Mid-Morning:  Bill and I drove through the scenic Spearfish Canyon on our way home.  I played Words with Friends on my new iphone and tried to figure out how to make all the apps work.  We’ve driven about 2000 miles in the last week and we have run out of ways to entertain ourselves.

 

Sunday Mid-Morning:  Manhattan Sister called my cell and wanted to talk to the kids.  After 30 minutes, my home phone rang and it was Manhattan Brother-In-Law, calling to let me know that Gabby was still on the phone with Manhattan Sister and that they needed a translator…and something about poop.  I located Gabby, who had inexplicably gotten dog poop on my iphone.  ipoop – not a good app. And here I thought Bill bought me that fancy iphone case because he was worried I was going to run over it with my car!  Meanwhile, the kids found a frog and were busy building it a jail house and suffocating it with feeding it grass. 

 

Saturday Lunch:  We stopped for Chinese food in a small town where Bill used to live.  He said it was the best Chinese meal he’d ever eaten and was so glad to get to eat it again.  I though there wasn’t anything too exciting about Chinese food in the middle of Wyoming, but I like it when he’s happy…

 

Sunday Lunch: Brianna and I decided to try to recreate the meal.  We bought all kinds of ingredients we’d never heard of after googling the recipe.  We spent 2 hours completely destroying the kitchen, had only one oil-splash burn (me) and only two broken dishes (her), and somehow managed to finish golden shrimp, fried rice and sweet and sour chicken all at the same time.  Then we realized we hadn’t cleared the puzzle or scrapbook stuff we’d been working on off of the table, so we decided to eat lunch on a blanket in the living room.  Chinese food + 4, 5 and 9 year olds + picnic= huge mess, but so much fun.

 

Saturday Afternoon:  Bill and I arrived home to our clean house and took a nap.

 

Sunday Afternoon:  We taught Levi how to vacuum.  He said the vacuum was eating all the rice.  We lost and then found the frog. In the kitchen.

  

Saturday Dinner:  After discovering our empty refrigerator, Bill and I went out to dinner.  I had two lovely drinks and a delicious salad. 

 

Sunday Dinner:  Hot dogs for them, wine for me.  I’m not proud.  We cleared the table this time.

 

Saturday Evening:  Bill and I unpacked while watching our DVR’d TV shows from last week.

 

Sunday Evening:  Gabriella announced that she wanted to make muffins for breakfast.  It was 9:30pm.  I couldn’t really think of a good reason why not, so we did.  She wanted to do it all by herself.  I thought that sounded really messy, but adorable.  We recorded the “Gabriella Cooking Show.”

  

After that, we thought she’d fallen asleep on the couch, but when the timer buzzed, she came barreling into the kitchen. “My muffins!!!!!” 

 

Saturday Night Time:  Bill and I decided it was bedtime and wandered upstairs where we fell asleep in our own bed for the first time in a week.  We didn’t wake up til the next morning.

 

Sunday Night Time:  Bill and I wrestled three overtired children into bed (because we let them make muffins at bedtime…),convinced them that we couldn’t eat muffins at 11pm/didn’t need to take remote control cars to bed/the frog they caught today would be fine until the morning.  Then we checked on the stupid frog and tried to go to sleep.  We were awakened seven times by children who were afraid of the dark/thirsty/had wet the bed/were worried about the freaking frog. 

 

You will be glad to know that as of Monday morning, the muffins had been eaten, the children (who were up all night) were already down for naps, and the frog, thank goodness, made it.  We are exhausted, but happy.  I will hold on to every second of chaos this week so that I can replay it in my mind (and my iphone) next week when the quiet takes over again.

Copyright © Jody Hoffman 2011

Stay in the Truck, Babe

Two friends and I went to a vendor show the other day.  I bought jewelry, seasoning mixes, a purse and some scrapbooking supplies.  But when we approached the “Never Clean Your House the Same Way Ever Again!” table, my eyes glazed over and I started checking Facebook on my phone.  My two very-excited-about-cleaning friends were very excited about these cleaning products.  They couldn’t understand my apathy about the situation.  “I’m not in charge of cleaning at my house,” I mumbled.  Nicole looked at me in disbelief. (Missy was still enraptured by the sales pitch of the cleaning product lady.)  “What ARE you in charge of!?!?!” She asked.  In the moment, I very maturely stuck out my tongue at her, but later I thought about it.  What AM I in charge of?  The truth of the matter is that while I do my fair share of childcare and errand running, it is Bill who bears most of the weight of running this household. 

 

Things I’m not in charge of:

             -Cleaning up dog messes

             -Dishes

            -Laundry (anymore…)

            -Washing cars

           -Pumping gas

           -Yard work

           -Checking out strange noises at night

 

Things I AM in Charge of:

           -Dinner at 5 (ish)

           -Anything that happens before 6am, unless it's a dog mess or strange noise

           -Entertainment decisions

            -Planning after school activities, doctor appointments and vacations

            -Forcing Bill to listen to plans

 

Sometimes I try to help:

*Facebook 11/6 - Decided to take some medicine so I could kick this stinkin’ cold and help Bill clean the house. New thoughts: they shouldn't put Dayquil and Nyquil in the same box. Sorry Bill, and goodnight.

I'm not saying he's perfect:

*Facebook 9/12 - I have no antlers and no football helmet. Therefore, I am, today, completely invisible to my husband.

But most of the time I feel like he devotes a major portion of his attention to making me happy:

*Facebook 3/24 In the realizing-how-much-my-husband-does-for-me category: just pulled into the coffee place from which he brings me a latte most afternoons and realized I don't even know the name of my own drink!

I know that a whole story about my amazing husband is probably making most people’s gag reflex kick in, but bear with me, it’s almost over.  Just one more quick list.

 

Top 10 qualities I appreciate most about my husband:

10. He’s Helpful: Besides all of the above mentioned things he does for our family, he has also been known to correct 90 6^th grade spelling tests for me…

9. He"Gets" Shopping: It isn't his favorite thing, but he'll spend as long as I want to in the mall.  He says he understands his job:  "Pay, and hold the bags."

8.  He’s Not Judgmental:  No matter how many times I call him in the middle of the day, he doesn’t get annoyed…he just brings me whatever I forgot. 

7. He’s Supportive:  When I decide it’s time to start exercising, he clears the schedule so we can go to the gym and changes his work out so he can do what I’m doing.  He tells me I’m doing a great job.  When I decide it’s time to stop exercising, he buys me donuts.  See #8.

6. He’s Good People: Regardless of the level of obnoxiousness of the people he’s dealing with, he ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS does “the right thing.” Even if the “wrong thing” would be way more satisfying. 

5. He's Romantic:  He knew that the Boston Harbor Hotel is my favorite Boston landmark, so he booked us there for my 31st birthday.  Then he brought me back there two months later...and proposed. 

4. He’s Flexible: When we first bought our house and then I landed a teaching job 5 minutes away, we talked about meeting at home for lunch.  When we discovered, however, that my lunch break would only be 25 minutes long (because teacher’s don’t need to eat), I was ready to give up on our lunch date plans.  Not Bill!  Every single Friday he drives to our favorite lunch spot and brings a picnic lunch for us to eat together in my classroom.  Some weeks, those are the only 25 minutes we get alone!  I really look forward to those lunches…and not just because those turkey paninis are so good.

3. He’s Patient: especially with tickets resulting from moving violations, exploding blender messes and cockamaymee schemes.

2. He’s got it under control.  No matter what the crisis, he’s already figured out how to handle it before I even get my hysterical sentence about the problem out.  “Stay in the truck, Babe. I got this.” 

1. Plus, he’s cute. I’m just sayin’.

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011

 

 

Why I Don't Feel Guilty about Pizza

 

Disclaimer

*Facebook 4/28/2011 - I have noticed that on almost every other Mom Blog, the writer is also a wonderful chef and shares her favorite recipes and helpful family-feeding ideas.  I applaud the efforts of these Mom Bloggers.  I read them and look at the healthy, pretty dishes they have created.  I think, though, that you should know something really important.

This will never happen on my blog.

So, if you're waiting for me to share my culinary expertise with you, stop holding your breath.

Now, you must excuse me, I have to go order the pizza.

 

 At 5:00 every day, Bill calls home to let me know he’s on his way.  There are two things we know will be said during this phone conversation:

1. “Happy Six O’clock!”  Much to the confusion of anyone sitting in my kitchen when he calls at 5:00, this is what we have said to each other at the end of the workday every day for the last two years.  When I lived in Boston, his 5:00 end-of-the-workday was actually my 6:00, and a silly tradition ensued…

2.  “Please pick up a gallon of milk.  We’re out…again.”

 

Perhaps, we just need a cow.  And while we’re at it, some chickens would help with the fact that we go through a dozen eggs in one breakfast…

In addition to the sheer volume of food that must be prepared for each meal, we also must consider the extraordinarily specific likes, dislikes, allergies and fussiness of each of the six children involved:

-Emily and Hannah will eat any vegetable except peas.

-Brianna will only eat peas. 

-Sam refuses to eat anything that includes foods touching each other and, until we moved here, subsisted on only Peanut Butter +Jelly sandwiches.

-Levi loves casseroles and is allergic to peanuts.

-Gabriella likes to play with food that is mushy, but refuses to eat anything with any sort of weird texture.  She wears more food than she eats and dunks everything in ketchup (which stains).

Add to these issues the fact that Bill and I both work all day and…well, it’s no wonder we eat pizza so often: It doesn’t require milk or eggs, is peanut free and doesn’t include peas.  The tomato sauce on it both counts as a vegetable, AND is considered (by Gabby) to be the same as ketchup.  Sam allows bread, cheese and sauce to touch, and they deliver.  No brainer.  “Hello, Pizza Guy?  Yeah, I’ll have the usual.”  By the way, I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that pizza has exactly 8 slices…

 I have a friend who lives in California with four children and a dog.  She makes homemade, organic meals for her children three times a day.  She grows organic produce in her backyard.  She does not have the pizza guy’s phone number on speed dial. She makes her own yogurt. And her children eat it. Even though it’s mushy.  I adore her. I admire her. I respect her. I have no freakin’ clue how she pulls this off.

 Part of the reason we have so much trouble is that my dinner repertoire is slightly smaller than Wolfgang Puck’s.  I can pull off about 3 different meals without burning the house down, but at some point you have to change it up a bit… I try new things, with varied success:

 *Facebook 8/26/10 - Tonight my cookie experiment turned out a little, well, crispy. Brianna: "this cookie was fun to chew...at first."

*Facebook 1/20/11 - I am hereby admitting that my mother is right. It is not possible to raise six kids without the crock-pot. Everyone please send recipes ASAP before we eat pizza again.

 *Facebook 1/23/11 – Pizza for dinner again!  I guess “Turn on the Crock Pot” was an important direction after all…

 *Facebook 3/15 Adventures in Child raising: tonight I'm calling dinner "The Salad Game" and have decided that positive advertising along with the make-it-yourself factor will trick them into eating something green.  Also, I have decided that if Levi wants to put hotdogs in his salad, that he may adjust the rules of "salad game" accordingly...and marshmallows. Whatever, there's lettuce too.

  Salad bar, or: how we're fooling our kids into eating veggies today.

  Salad Face-It took a little more bribery than we originally anticipated.

 

Recently I bought the Philadelphia Cream Cheese Cookbook.  Every single recipe has cream cheese as a main ingredient.  Since this happens to be one of the only foods everyone agrees on, I thought this was brilliant!  Also, most of the recipe names start with the word “Easy.”  (Read: probably won’t burn the house down.) I’ve been keeping notes on the pages of the recipes we try:

-Easy Savory Parmesan Bites: Cream cheese? Good.  Parmesan? Good.  Crescent Rolls?  GOOOOOD.

-Enchiladas: Yum!  Everyone ate it.  Even though food touched.  Even though it has vegetables.

-Easy Sheppard’s Pie: Everyone loved this and it was really easy, because my friend made it while I was having a panic attack about having to attend 35 soccer games in one month.

-Creamy Crab and Red Pepper Spread: Bill loves it.  No one else will try it.  Side note: does not stay good long enough for Bill to finish all the leftovers by himself.  Yuck.

-Easy Bacon and Pea Risotto:  Yummy.  Only Levi notices the difference between regular bacon and the turkey bacon I used today.  Note to self: It is really important to cook the rice ALL THE WAY.  Risotto is not supposed to be chewy.  Also, do not give the Emily and Hannah straws in their milk on a pea-dinner day. 

-Salsa Roll-Ups: Maybe we’re getting a little sick of cream cheese

-Chicken Parmesan Bundles: This is fun, but I think it’s time for a new cookbook.  Is there one that has pizza as the main ingredient for every dish?

I know that some other moms will judge me for not cooking healthy, perfect meals everyday.  I also know that some moms manage to balance being a loving wife and mom, working AND cooking.  But for now, I will concentrate on what I think is the most important part of dinner:  No matter what else is going on, no matter how many soccer games, school projects or play dates, regardless of whether or not we ran out of milk, my family sits down at the table together Every Single Night, usually at 5:00 (6:00est).  Even if it is around a pizza. 

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011

The Ash Wednesday Chicken Dinner Story

*Facebook 3/9 Who is that public-school mom screwing up the Catholic school pick up line AGAIN?!?! Oh, that's me. Sorry, folks-I'm new.

One of the most challenging parts of moving to South Dakota from my suburban Boston hometown has been coming to terms with a new way of practicing our religion.  In Boston, I was the youth group leader, Bar/Bat Mitzvah tutor and Hebrew Reading Specialist.  My kids went to Hebrew school once a week at the school where my mother is the Education Director. We were IN-volved.  My kids opened the ark at High Holiday services… Here, there are very few Jews and, though we are trying to be involved here as well, we are so busy and there aren’t any other kids!  Our family life is different too.  Bill’s kids participate in our Friday night Shabbat dinners and even know some of the prayers.  In exchange, Brianna has been sharing her Catholic School education with me, usually right after each holiday occurs.  Jesus hangs in our kitchen, a mezuzah hangs on our door.  We lit candles on Hannukah and drank hot chocolate under our tree on Christmas.  We’re blended, so that means all the ingredients count.   We have had several wonderful successes:

*Facebook 12/5 Happiness is a guy that understands what the "clothes" night of Hannukah means.... (We “themed” the nights of Hannukah so as to contain the presentpalooza that is the month of December in our home.  The fourth night is clothes night.  This year, Bill gave me Pink Sweater Uggs!)

*Facebook 12/25 As we walked into Christmas Mass tonight, all 8 of us, someone commented, "what a lovely family...all dressed in plaid!". If there's something we Jews know, it's how to dress for church.

And some interesting challenges:

*Facebook 1/3 They don't have Hannukah scrapbooking stickers in South Dakota. Just so you know

We were about to have another one of those challenges:

As you know, trying to make homecoming perfect for Bill is one of my “things.”  Last week was a complete and utter disaster, so this week I was determined to get it right.  It hadn’t been our weekend with Bill’s kids, so the first time I had everybody together again after the Oh $#!% Dinner of last Thursday was this Wednesday, March 9. 

I planned dinner the night before and made sure I had everything defrosting.  I was making something I knew everyone would eat.  I picked everyone up, brought them home, neatened and straightened and turned on the TV to settle everyone because I’m not perfect.  Then I made chicken strips 3 ways, plain (for the littles) Honey BBQ (for the bigs and for me) and Buffalo Hot Sauce (for Bill, although everytime we do this one of the kids insists on trying them and then drinking a gallon of milk while steam comes out of his or her ears).

When Bill walked in at 5:05, the table was set, the kids were sitting, the dogs were fed, accounted for and quiet and dinner was ready!  I noticed something interesting on Bill’s forehead, but didn’t mention it because I was so excited about my dinner success.

Bill walked into the dining room and surveyed my masterpiece.  Then Brianna piped up, “Um, Jody? It’s Ash Wednesday.  That’s the day we don’t eat meat.” 

Oh. 

Perhaps Brianna and I could work on learning about each holiday the day BEFORE, instead of the day after from now on… and I think I’m giving up 5:00 dinners for Lent.

 

© Jody Hoffman 2011

OH $#!% Or, Why we Ate Dinner 45 Minutes Late

My husband plans his every move around what would make his family happy. He works hard to pay for soccer cleats, swimming lessons, IHOP Sunday breakfasts and my shoes. He is the first one there when dishes need to be done, laundry needs to be washed or there’s dog mess in the living room. Last summer, right after our wedding, my children and step-children summed it up just right while watching The Amazing Race.

*Facebook 8/28/10 Me: "Bill and I should totally be on this show-we would so win!"
Hannah: "Yeah! Bill can drive the car, run really fast and pick up the heavy stuff." Em:" AND he's good at directions!"
Me: "But what will I do? "
Brianna: "Well, you can just sit in the backseat and be pretty."
Well...they do have a point. (And, apparently, a pretty good idea of how my marriage works.)

This said, there are a few things I can do to show him how much we all appreciate what he does and bring a little smile to his face…

Bill likes to come home at 5:00 to a calm, clean, organized household where no one is screaming, biting or crying, and dinner is on the table. Some of this is downright impossible, and some it is just hard. Although I realize that my behavior after school is not evidence of my feminist upbringing, I love my husband and want him to be happy, so I do try to make his somewhat-unreasonable dreams come true. I fail almost every time. If you’re judging me right now, come over sometime - after you run around to 4 places picking up six children, bring them home, wrangle them out of the snowclothes and do their homework with them, then walk the dogs. Now you’ll have about 20 minutes left (if you’re lucky) to make dinner and get the kids cleaned up, settled and sitting at the table. Ready? Go!

There are obvious obstacles to Bill’s perfect walking-in-the-door moment. Sometimes people are late, sometimes kids have fights, fall down, need homework help, lose the dogs or puke. Sometimes, though, the problem is me. Last Tuesday was the Girl Scout Cookie Money Due Date. This is the day when 13 little girls turn in their approximately $7000, mostly in ones, to the troop leader - yours truly.

*Facebook 9/12/10: Could someone please rewind time to the minute right BEFORE I volunteered to be the Girl Scout Troop Leader? Then push pause and yell at me until I hang up the phone.

Then it is my esteemed pleasure to count, recount and count again until I make the number of dollars in my living room add up to the number of boxes times 4 This almost always ends in me writing a check…

On this night, I was working in the living room and was determined to finish the project AND have dinner on the table at 5:00. I occasionally glanced up at the digital clock in front of me to be sure I had enough time left. I plowed through the work and was excited when the difference finally came within $20 and I could write a check and be done with the whole thing. Around this time, I heard Bill come into the kitchen - I’m home!

I’m sure Bill was not expecting or hoping for “OH *&%$” as his greeting when he arrived home after a long day of work, but that is what he got. It turns out that the “digital clock” I was glancing at absentmindedly was actually the cable box. The children had been watching channel 441 the day before. Lost in Girl Scout Cookie money, I had completely failed to notice that the time wasn’t changing, and in fact wasn’t even the time. I had not started dinner, the house was a mess, the dogs were missing and the children were screaming at each other in the playroom. But the cookie money was done…

Bill and I, as usual, rolled with the punches and made dinner together. We laughed about it during dinner and I promised myself I’d do better next time…Stay Tuned.

….Next Time (the Ash Wednesday Chicken Dinner story)

© Jody Hoffman 2011