Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Half, One, Two!

Now you know the secret to a HOST of divine cookies.

1/2 C oil
1 cake mix
2 eggs

Cook: 350 for 10-12 min.

My Sis-in-law Lisa made these with me, and oh YUM! I didn't know such wonderful recipes existed! And so fast! We did a lemon cake mix, with powdered sugar on top, but you can do that strudel topping, or frosting! You can make chocolate ones (add a cup of choc chips to make it worth it), strawberry ones, ginger-y ones! If it's a cake mix, you can make it into a batch of cookies in no time flat! Awesome for fits of PMS. ;D

And, with all of the time you save, you can get real creative, put two together with frosting, ice cream, peanut butter, anything you can think of! Enjoy my little secret, and have fun with it too. I don't think I've had a pink strawberry cookie, but I know I will soon! :D

Daddy's Little Girl...

Sometimes something comes across your vision and you are suddenly surprised at what you are viewing. This happened today as I was sitting in the elementary school library, and a little girl walks into the area. She was probably no more than three. And the more I looked at this little creature, the more I wanted to see who she belonged to. She was wearing light pink cowboy boots, a low slung diaper, and a top that might have looked like a dress to hasty eyes... except that it only really covered her belly button, and had breakfast all over it.

Her hair was completely disheveled - like she'd just climbed out of bed, and the single back button of her top was flopping around looking very forgotten. With some cute shorts, and a bow, this would have been an adorable outfit! It was so funny, I had to wonder. What happened to Mom this morning? So I watched her wander around, and ultimately gravitate to... her dad. *Bing!* It all made sense.

Dad came around the corner looking for the librarian. I got up my courage and said, "Did she pick out her outfit herself today?".
And he looked at me, and he looked at the little girl - trying to figure out what was so amusing. Clearly, to him, it had passed muster. She had clothes on. She had matching shoes on. It's good! I bet he was questioning himself as he left the house this morning, "Why do women make it so hard? Just put some clothes on the kid and go to the library - it's not that hard!" He went about looking for the librarian, and I continued my search as well.

I looked to see if he had any others with him -ooop yep. That little boy with the bedhead, wrinkly shirt and mismatched shorts must belong. And I'm guessing that this little girl who was looking a little unkempt was part of the set too. Yep, they're all hanging around together. The surprise was his oldest.

Probably a girl of about 9. Matched clothes, clean, tidy, appropriate shoes, and combed hair. Oh yeah. She has caught the vision. You may be Daddy's girl, but when it comes to going out in public, we use Mommy's standards. Made me laugh.... to myself.. not out loud. There are just some things that we don't do in public!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Summertime Summertime...

I love Country Time Lemonade Commercials. The wooden sign, the sun ripened, just-picked-fresh lemons, and the kid in denim overalls pedaling through the summer wheat fields on his red bike with his black dog running alongside.

While old geezers sit laughing on the wrap-around wooden porch sporting suspenders, hats and old-timey glasses, a vibrant grandma in a dress and bunned up hair welcomes our rider back with a tall, cold glass of lemonade. They share an affectionate hug and big smiles while he slurps around the big ice cubes.

And then they tell you that there are only so many days left of summer. How you better slow down and enjoy it. It makes me crave summer. And a leisurely bike ride through wheat fields with a dog.

Something struck me as odd though recently, and I've only just put my finger on it: that is not my summer at all! Summer, with an 8,4 and 1 year old involves a cacophony of crying - A LOT of crying! I started keeping track and realized that it's like the white noise of my summer,
"He hit me..." "She's in my room!" "S/he took my toy/changed the channel/*insert tattling*!"
and it always starts with the siren wail, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!" There isn't a moments peace. And as for laughing, well, it's only because they caught me, threw me in a straight jacket and a padded room!

Clinging to my idyllic commercial summer, I try to send the kids out for some happy summer memories riding through the asphalt, concrete and dirt. They go out, but then come right back in. Not only can't you go on a bike ride anymore without a helmet - but the nearest wheat field and red bicycle are miles away. And they're hot! And there's bugs.

"Why aren't you outside playing?" The answers are pretty pat.

Well, So and so is at their gramma's (probably with a red bike and wheat field!), and so and so has soccer, and the last-kid play-date option has gone on vacation. There's nothing to dooooOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo. Mom, can I watch Phineas and Ferb, or Dexter's Laboratory?"

"NO! Cartoons are NOT summer! Summer is overalls and outside! Go! Swing! Play! Ride!"

Then comes the knock at the door from an angry man in a mini-van, "Your kids are throwing rocks (crab apples if you look closely) at my car! You need to keep better track of your kids!"


I didn't have time to greet them at the door with the tall glasses of lemonade and hugs because the regular household routine is punctuated with more changes of clothes and swimwear, otter pops dripping through the beige carpet, and mysterious messes that "I don't know" keeps making.

That's not to say that I'm not rushing to the door. Apparently ding-dong-ditching is big here. But we're on a hill, and the computer sits in the bay window right next to the door. Even though the kids have learned to pull up their t-shirt up around their nose as a disguise -I can still see them approaching AND running away when I'm on the computer.

I can tell it's those kids from two houses up & I don't bother to open the door to give them the satisfaction. I'm like an old geezer, and am just waiting to hear that my house has been deemed "haunted" or that some "old witch" lives here as I'm tempted to holler out at them, "You darn blasted kids stay outta my yard!"
Summer feels like it is dragging on FOREVER. When is this OVER!

I feel like Ralphie Parker who discovers the truth about his Annie decoder pen,
"It's a crummy commercial?! Son of a b*****!"

And I too leave the world a sadder, yet wiser mom. Crummy commercial...