I Love My Housecoat

I'm sure my husband wonders what happened to his "trophy wife".  Her nails were always manicured, french actually.  Her highlights were well kept.  Her hair was neat and make up done.  Though she was no trend setter, she was neatly dressed and always wore heels.  And she always carried the latest Coach bag.

Nearly 5 years of marriage and 2 kids later (which kind of makes it 10 years of marriage) , I still carry a Coach bag.  It's just a diaper bag...that's 4 years old...and beat to hell.  But really, a trendy new pocketbook would hardly go with my Danskin yoga pants or my Marika running shorts.  And I've found that, outside of the diaper bag, Coach really doesn't make anything that compliments New Balance 850's or $1 Old Navy flip flops.

I do still wear mascara (that's a post for another day) and I do my hair.  Well, I do my hair on Fridays, because I work at a salon and it wouldn't look good if the first person the customers saw had their unbrushed hair in a sloppy ponytail.  But at some point I decided that a house coat was acceptable attire for a thirty-something woman.  I bought it to wear in the hospital when I had my babies, but it was so comfortable, and all purpose.  I can put it on after I shower but I'm not ready to get dressed in clothes that I'd wear outside of the house, between work clothes and pajamas, when it's hot, when I'm cooking, and best of all I can sleep in it.  I don't wear the housecoat all the time.  I also like my extra-large drawstring Notre Dame sweats paired with my maternity tank top.  But like I said, these are things that are not worn out of the house...except to take out the trash or get the mail.  When I go out I do try to dress better, like in an unstained tee-shirt and jeans that are only 1 size too big.

What, No Chocolate Shavings?

This is an old one but a good one.  "In laws: The Christening"

Being Irish Catholic, there are only 3 parties that matter in life, Christening, Wedding Reception, Wake.  Being that my husband is Italian Catholic, well, same rules apply.  The Christening of my first son was a very big deal.  Paddy (oh and yes, my off the boat Italian in-laws just loooove my kids' names), was the heir to the the throne, so to speak.  My husband was the last to carry on the family name, and boy was he relieved when he did not fail to produce a male offspring.  We went all out.  Tony made the restaurant reservations and even got a deal since he made them in his native language, Italian.  My father in law bottled up a couple of cases of the home made wine, special labels and all.  My mother in law even offered to get the cake, well, sort of...

Tony's mother was all about the cake.  It had to come from a specific bakery.  And it was a $50 cross cake.  That was all the information given to us.  she'd give us the money and we had to order it and pick it up ourselves.  Tony called the bakery.  They did not have a $50 cross cake.  They had a $35 cross cake that people usually ordered for Christenings.  Fine, we'll take it.  Do we want chocolate shavings?  No, just "God Bless Patrick Joseph", please and thank you.  The afternoon before the Christening, I drove out of my way to the special bakery to pick up this cake.

Everything was beautiful.  My family came from out of town.  The sun was shining.  Paddy didn't make a peep when Monsignor poured the Holy Water over his head (of course I had been pouring water over the poor kid's giant noggin since day one in anticipation of this moment), or during the rest of the Mass.  My dad's prayer before dinner brought most of us to tears.  The food and service at the restaurant were excellent (even my in laws didn't have a complaint...about the restaurant).  All of our family was enjoying themselves.  My sister's boyfriend was fitting in and feeling comfortable, that brave man even ended up marrying in to the family.  It really was a perfect and blessed day.

Then out came the cake.  It was a marble cake, in the shape of a cross, decorated with white buttercream frosting, roses, and in blue "God Bless Patrick Joseph".  It was really a beautiful cake, or so we thought.

Well, we were wrong, so very very wrong.

I was chatting with my future brother in law while he enjoyed a piece of what we were soon to find out was a horrible horrible cake, when my mother in law stepped in between us with her plate of that very cake.

mother in law to my sister's boyfriend, "Do you like the cake?" (by the way, make sure you do a heavy Italian accent when you read the part of mother in law)

sb, "Yes.  It's delicious."

mil, "NO.  It isawful!"

sb's eyes nearly pop out of his head and his mouth drops open.

mil turns to me, "This cake is all wrong.  You did not get the right cake.  Where are the chocolate shavings?  Why did you order this cake?  This is not a $50 cake."

me, "They didn't have a $50 cake.  This was what they said people ordered for Christenings.  We didn't know we were supposed to get chocolate shavings."

mil, "YES, you were supposed to get a $50 cake with chocolate shavings!"

I was mortified at the time.  I didn't feel so bad when I found out that she also gave Tony an earful in front of the rest of our guests.  The bottle of home made red that my sister snagged to drink later at home also helped.  The wine was delicious, but to this day I can't pass a bakery without thinking about chocolate shavings.

The moral of this story: When offered, always take the chocolate shavings.  Because even God himself cannot save a blessed day from the wrath of an Italian mother in law expecting a $50 cake.

Kid on a Leash

Always a controversial topic: the kid leash.  I remember that my sister had a little Elmo harness for my nephew.  We were walking on the Wildwood boardwalk when he was about 18 months (a place that, really, no one should be judging any one else).  Some one walked by and freely shared their opinion by shouting, "Real nice!  You put your kid on a leash."

My now nearly 4 year old, did not like the stroller and was far too independent to hold hands.  When he was toddling around, I was ridiculously pregnant and could barely walk let alone chase after him.  Later, I was carrying around or pushing an infant.  Sorry, but a kid that won't sit in a stroller or hold my hand, just isn't a reason to not go to the park, zoo, out for a walk, to the museum, etc.  He still had to get out and, though there were days he irritated the crap out of me, I still wanted to keep him close.  Solution: the monkey backpack

That right, A LEASH!

I've heard the "leash" called inhumane, degrading, treating your child like a dog, and so on.  Here's the thing, 1) it's not your kid, and 2) go ahead and call CYS, they wouldn't care because there is no mistreatment of the child.  Paddy loved his monkey backpack.  He didn't have to be confined to the stroller.  We didn't have to fight with him and struggle to hold onto his grubby little paw.  No one was freaking out and having to run after him if he tried to take off for the swings, or worse, the parking lot.  We didn't have to worry about losing him amidst seas of people.  He couldn't wonder off.  It's not like he was on a choke chain, or we were telling him to "heal".  He had his independence and we had peace of mind.  Now that Paddy's older, he understands the dangers of not staying close.  Mick, not so much, so the leash has been passed down.   

Now, if only I could get away with the cages I'd like to lock them in.

Let them eat SALAD!

People often don't believe that my kids eat salad, or think it's some kind of miracle.  They do eat salad and even request "big salad night" at least once a week.  And it's not a miracle, and I don't have to force it on them...anymore.

I'm a big meanie, yes, I realize that.  I clean the house, I cook the meals, I make the rules.  Anyone that lives in my house can live by my rules, or they can make their own meals and clean their own dirty undies.  That includes everyone from ages 1 through 41!  When I make dinner and put it on the table, you can eat what I made, or you can eat nothing.  Actually, that's not even quite true.  Before you leave the table you have to take 3 bites of each thing on your plate.  There is always more than one thing on a plate and you can't dislike everything...if you do, you'll starve anyway.  If you want dessert, you have to finish just about everything (about 80%).  And no one leaves the table until we're all finished eating (except Paddy, because if we waited for that kid to finish we'd be there all night, he can't shut up long enough to eat).  These have been the rules from day one, even the 2 year old knows.

My kids are "good eaters" because they never had a choice to be anything but.  They also never had sweets, or junk food before they had established healthy and varied eating habits.  No, it wasn't easy, but it was easier than making several different meals each night.  My kids never went hungry, and were never even anywhere near underweight.  They don't like everything, but they try everything...because they don't have a choice.  So now we have "big salad night".  They get a plate of lettuce and get to add anything they want, cucumbers, pasta, celery, turkey, etc...And they usually end up with a nice dessert!

If Your Baby has Fur, There May be a Problem

I whole heartedly believe that pets can become family members and there is nothing wrong with loving your cats or dogs or hamsters or bunnies.  But there is a line...and I'm going to draw it.  Pets are not children.  You may think that you love them like a child, you don't.  If you had to chose between your child and Barky Barkerson, I'm pretty sure Barky would be the one left at the shelter...Though there are days that I've wondered where the nearest orphanage is located, just in case.  I understand people that don't have children, and adopt pets.  I understand that pets can fill a void, provide companionship, and even reduce stress (there's your first clue that they are NOT children).  Here are a few other differences between pets and children...

• You can give birth to a baby.  If you give birth to a "fur baby" you're probably on the front page of the National Enquirer.
• You can put your pet in a cage.  Although I'd like to some days, you can not put your kids in a cage.
• You can leave your puppy home alone, though you may come back to a mess.  If you leave your baby home alone, you'll likely come back to Child Services.
• Pets get fed once a day.  My children never stop eating.
• Your dog can live outside and sleep on the ground in a dog house, though you'll probably get hate mail from PETA.  Your kid needs specific beds, bedding, monitors, etc. to go to sleep.
• Pets crap on your lawn.  Kids, OK, well, Micky has been known to crap on the lawn...but public pooping is frowned upon for children.
• Pets will always need you to fulfill their every need.  Children grow up and become self sufficient.  Unless they're male children, then they grow up and get married and someone else fulfills their every need.
• You can crack the windows and leave your pet in the parking lot to run into the grocery store.  However, do NOT park in the "Mothers with Small Children" spot as a pet is not a child (and really, I think you should be towed).  If you do that with your baby, someone like me will call the police on you.

Love your pets for what they are, furry, snuggly, drooly little animals that love you unconditionally.  But for the love of Pete, stop putting clothing on them and pushing them in strollers!

My 24 Hour Work Day (and maybe a little venting)

I used to work in an office.  I had a nice big desk and nobody was allowed to touch my stuff.  Work started at 8:30.  I worked through lunch and had to stay late to finish end of month accounting.  Now that I'm just a "stay at home mom", I don't have to be at work at 8:30.  I can sleep in, get up and have some coffee and a bagel while I relax and watch the news.  I can get my work out in or go for a long run.  Then I can take a nice long shower, put on my make up and blow out my hair.  I can pick up around the house while the children read stories to each other in their room.  After lunch, I can put the kids in the car and spend the afternoon at the park catching up with all my friends while the kids play and have fun.  Then we can come home and they'll play quietly while I make dinner.  After a dinner where we discuss the events of the day everyone can clean up their place and the children can go bath themselves.  Then I can read them a story and kiss them good night and they're off to dream land while I sip on some relaxation tea and sit on the couch.  That is the life of a stay at home mom.  You have time to do all the things that you need to do and you really are your own boss.

HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I get the feeling that that is what people might think.  I'm not knocking the working mom, and maybe "the grass is always greener", but give me some credit for what I do because I work damn hard.  By 8:30 AM, when people are hanging up their coats and chatting with their coworkers while they get coffee,  I have my work day well under way.  I have run 4-6 miles, showered, made coffee and unloaded the dishwasher, gotten the kids their milk and breakfast, cleaned up said breakfast.  I've slathered on the sunscreen and dressed the kids.  I've brushed teeth and fixed hair.  I've packed lunches and may get to sit and suck down another cup of coffee while directing the kids cleaning up the toys so we can go do whatever we have planned that day...and there always has to be something planned, whether it's a play date or just going to the park.  They need exercise and fresh air.

By 1:00 PM, when people are getting back to their desks after lunch with their coworkers, friends, or even maybe their spouse or having a quiet lunch at their desk, I'm starting to think about when I'll have time to sit and suck down another cup of coffee.  I have already taken the kids to do whatever it takes to tire them out and dragged them home.  Sometimes it's the zoo, the pool, the park, a play date at a friend's house, and on Thursdays it's the grocery store, produce stand and the library.   I've fed them lunch and cleaned up said lunch, whether it was a picnic or at home.  I've read them a story and tucked them in for a nap. 

Most people are turning off their computers at 5:30 and heading home.  By 5:30, I've done whatever chore is scheduled for that day (dusting, vacuuming, laundry, lots and lots of laundry, bathrooms, sorting 2t, 3t, and 4t clothes, etc).  I've made and eaten my own lunch, which I usually don't get to do when the kids eat, and cleaned it up.  The kids have gotten up and are ready play, sometimes with each other, sometimes with "mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy."  Tony's lunch for work is made and dinner has been cooked and is being put on the table.

Besides the regularly scheduled programming, I also have to find time to do things like teach the kids about healthy choices, colors, shapes, numbers, letters, manners, their address, how to eat with utensils, use cups without lids, spell their names, how to clean up their own stuff, how to pee in the potty, how to hold a pen and write, etc, etc, etc.  I do that, not a daycare or babysitter that gets paid to do it.  I do it.  Doctor and dentist appointments have to be scheduled.  There's always paperwork to fill out and calls to be made.  Oh and I'm a wife.

I know that I don't have to get up and run, unless I want to feel miserable.  I know that my kids don't have to have activities to do everyday, unless they want to be bored.  I don't have to do a lot of the things that I do every day, but I do it to have a happy, healthy family.  I made a choice to have a family, and in doing that I took on the responsibility of molding their lives.  I do not slight anyone that uses a childcare provider.  It may be a choice, it may be a necessity.  But I, as a "stay at home mom" (and I use quotation marks because my "job" goes with me even when I'm not at home) do work.   I may not sit down at a desk, but I do work, and I work very hard.

Is it really that hard to follow my rules?

I realize that grandparents are supposed to spoil the kids and dad will always be the fun one, but when people don't follow the guidelines set down by mom, the kids and mom suffer.

I recently went back to work, just on Fridays.  My husband is home on Fridays.  I knew his skills would need some fine tuning, but he and the kids would survive.  The first couple of Fridays were rough.  Dad was all fun all day and when I got home and laid the smack down, it was melt down city.  Tony quickly realized that Mom's way is the only way.  He also realized that the 3 year old can't keep a secret.  Paddy will throw you under the bus in a heartbeat.

Today, Tony had to work, so we called on his mother to watch the boys.  Not my first choice, since she has never watched them, but it was a last resort.  I dropped them off with breakfast, lunch, snacks, and toys all packed.  I set up the pack and play in one of the spare bedrooms for Micky to nap.  I had already discussed with Paddy, yes the 3 year old, the rules (lunch at noon, nap at 1, no snacks til veggies and sandwiches are eaten, etc).  They had the sunscreen on and I told my Mother-in-Law that she could probably just sit on the shaded porch and let them scooter up and down the long driveway till they wore themselves out.  Basically, all she had to do was let them run till they drop, feed them lunch and toss 'em in bed for a 3 hour nap.  When I got to my in-laws', I was greeted by 2 salty little boys who hadn't napped and had done pretty much whatever they wanted all day including watching 2 hours of TV.  Well at least, Paddy told me, they didn't have their pretzels until after their broccoli and carrots, and peanut butter sandwiches...Then they had fruit snacks and a cookie, eh whatever.

So what happens when my kids sit and watch TV, do whatever they want with no consequences, and don't take naps?  Well, Paddy was delirious, demanding, fresh mouthed and exuding attitude that even time out couldn't contain.  Mick fell asleep on the floor while I made dinner and woke up so he could cry and scream his chubby little face off...So that was a fun meal.  The kids were miserable, I was miserable, Tony was miserable (especially since he had already learned this lesson).  So please, if you ever watch my kids, just run them like the little jackals they are, feed them like they're bottomless pits (because they are), and for the love of Pete, give them naps!

Wish I had an Ugly Toe Nail

I was having a beer with my crazy running friend and she took a peek at my toes under the table, and commented.  I have teased her about her feet and black toe nails probably more than I should.  She has been running for years, and runs more miles in a day than I do in a week.  She has worked hard for, and earned her ugly toes.

We were having sandwiches and beers to treat ourselves for Mother's Day.  Of course we chatted about our kids, husbands, how sick we'd feel the next day after eating the delicious, greasy, french fries, and our running goals.  We talked about nasty bumps and lumps on our feet.  Which I believe is what prompted her to look under the table at my feet.  I think she was surprised when she commented that I had all my toe nails and none of them were even black.  Back in October, I had asked our crazy shopper running friend how long it would be before I lost a toe nail.  He said that I should be fine as long as I had shoes that were well fit.  So I told crazy running friend that I credited my healthy tootsies to my awesome New Balance 850's.

When I started getting serious about running, Paddy was concerned that my feet would start to look like my friend's.  Now, I must make an admission that will sound somewhat odd.  I'm a little disappointed that I haven't had a toe nail turn black yet.  I kind of feel like losing a toe nail is a rite of passage for a runner.  I'm thinking I need to either ramp up the training, or buy tighter shoes.  In the mean time, I'll have to settle for my calluses and growing bunion.  So to those of you that have run your feet ugly, be proud, you have earned those nasty dogs...and some of us are envious!

Oh Bathing Suit Season, How I Loathe Thee

I decided to try on all of my bathing suits today.  I probably should have had a couple of drinks first.  I have 4 bathing suits; 2 pre pregnancy, 2 post pregnancy...oh and a 5th that is just pregnancy...I will NOT be wearing that one again.

I had a large, and rather bright pink, tankini top with the swim skirt that I bought after my first pregnancy (look, it was on clearance).  I wore it again after the second.  Last summer, after I started running, big pink was getting a little loose.  So I got a great deal on another Target tankini in a smaller size and better color.  I really liked the second bathing suit and figured I'd get to wear it again this year...it was a little tight last year.  I tried on big pink first, knowing it would be a little too big and it's actually ridiculous.  [Can you donate bathing suits or should I just save it for when I get fat again?]  I was pretty happy about that.  I tried on the black tankini.  Well, it was also too big, not ridiculous, but not anything that would hold up against a medium sized wave.  At this point, I was feeling pretty darn good and brought out the pre pregnancy suits.  Yeah, I should have stopped while I was ahead.

I went straight for the string bikini.  [This would be where you hear my sad and hysterical laughter]  First off, it's important to know that string bikini bottoms do not hide stretch marks...at least not stretch marks that go up to your chin.  Also important, string bikini tops do not offer the support a woman that nursed 2 babies needs.  Wish these facts had been clear to me prior to trying to cover and hold myself in place.  *sigh*  Oh well, at somewhere over age 35, I shouldn't really be wearing string bikinis anyway.  Bathing suit #2 was also not appropriate.  Though the bottoms are shorts, the top is the dreaded and unsupportive triangle top. 

So unless I go shopping, I am left with 4 ill fitting bathing suits.  I can wear the triangle tops and have side boob and stretch marks.  Or I can wear the too big suits, and probably end up with a lot more than side boob after the first wave.  But, I guess since I vacation at the Jersey shore, either would be appropriate.

"I HATE Running!"

I may be the biggest hypocrite when it comes to the topic of running.  For years I complained about running, made fun of people who ran, said I would do absolutely any exercise but run, I was very clear on my hatred of running.  I thought people who paid to run (races) were completely out of their minds...really, who in their right mind would pay to torture themselves?  And I was relentless in the taunting of my friend that runs at 4 am (to whom I've since apologized).

Here's what happened...
Nearly a year after my second son was born, I was still fat!  I had always eaten healthy and rarely indulged in sweets or snacks.  I was hitting the gym, weights, cardio, even classes like body combat.  I lost about 6 pounds.  That's less than either one of my kids weighed at birth!  I wasn't giving up though.  While I was out of town for a week, I didn't have access to a gym.  I didn't want to lose my momentum, even though I wasn't losing weight...so I did the unthinkable, I ran.  It wasn't pretty.  I put both kids in the Joovy (not a stroller built for running), and huffed and puffed up and down the hills of small town central Pennsylvania.  I lost 3 pounds!  3 pounds in that one week.  I didn't like it, I hated it, but I saw results. 

When I came home I continued to run.  I did not buy a jogger.  I was just not committed enough to the sport to spend any money on it.  I kept it up for about 2 months, but I hit a wall.  I was still losing weight, but couldn't push the kids past 1 mile.  It was time to try a new approach.  By the way, still hated running at this point, but did like the results.  There were tons of Facebook posts about the Couch to 5k program.  So I gritted my teeth and spent $3.99, and downloaded the c25k app for my Blackberry.  Now that I spent money on it, I had to get to the end of the program and I had to be capable of running a 5k...basically, I had to get my money's worth.  Yeah, I'm that cheap.  I really had no intention of actually running a 5k race, I just needed to be able to run the 3.1 miles that the program promised I'd be able to do in 8 weeks.  It just so happened that one of my favorite charities was holding a 5k shortly after I was scheduled to finish my c25k program.  I still hated running, but I wasn't backing down from the challenge I had set for myself.  Plus I was still losing weight.  My goal was not to place, just to finish...without dying...or passing out...or puking.  I must admit that I probably would not have signed up for the race or pushed myself as hard, had I not had crazy running friend.

The c25k program had run it's course about 3 weeks before my first 5k.  I still hated running, but man, I was pretty proud of myself for being able to run over 3 miles.  I had a new Blackberry app to track my pace, milage, calories, etc.  2 days before my big run, I went out by myself.  It was fall, it was sunny, it was just the right temperature, I ran and ran and ran.  I checked my gps and it said that I had logged 3.34 miles.  YEAH!  Furthest I had run so far!  Sweet!  I rocked!  What?!  Oh Lord, it happened...I LOVED Running!

Before I knew it I was bargain shopping for running tights and tech shirts.  I had awesome new running shoes and I was researching "chi running".  I was even going out for early morning runs! *gasp*  Yes, I agreed to a 4am run with crazy running friend.  It was so nice.  I got my run in, I had camaraderie thanks to crazy running friend and crazy shopper running friend (who also enjoys the 4am run, and pushing me), we had coffee, and I still had time to shower and relax alone before the kids got up.  I don't often get to make the 4am run due to the husband's schedule, but I do get to do my own 5am run...which is still so nice.  What's also nice is that I have gone from a size 10 to a size 4 in less than a year.  I feel good, healthy.  I have energy.  Yep, I've become one of those people...and I like it.

Now that I've experienced the joys of running, I am determined to expose others.  I even have Tony running.  He's started with the c25k program and is already up to 1.5 miles.

Here's what I learned...
I'm certainly no one to give running advice, but I want to share a few things that I didn't know before.  First, get a good pair of running shoes.  Go to a running specialty store and get fitted by a professional.  Then go order your shoes on line for a whole lot less than you'll pay in the store.  Once you run in running clothes, you'll never go back to sweats.  It's fun to get race shirts.  You should dress for 15-20 degrees warmer than the actual temperature.  It's better to set a goal of how far you're going to run rather than how much weight you want to lose.  You're more likely to reach and surpass your goal, and the other will just happen.  Running outside is real running.  You might get hurt, suck it up...but listen to your doctor.  3 days off will set you back a lot more than 3 days.  Running with someone faster than you keeps you motivated.  Running with someone slower than you keeps someone else motivated.  If you tell people that you run before the sun comes up, they will think you are nuts...but they will also secretly wish they loved to run at 5am.  And last, but not least, if I can learn to love running, anyone can.

How to be a Good Italian Housewife: Bracciole

Part of being a good mom is taking care of all of your children.  That includes the big one too, aka husband.  My husband, Tony, is a first generation Italian (very different from an Italian-American).  His parents met in Napoli; and his father brought his wife and daughter over to America once he got settled.  They lived in an Italian immigrant community, spoke their own language and ate their own food.  No woman in his family ever paid a bill, and no man in his family ever married a woman who wasn't Italian (Well, except for Tony.  Yes, I muddied the gene pool).  This is how my husband grew up.  He didn't speak English until he was in kindergarten.  He didn't have a pot roast until he was 30, and I cooked one for dinner.

I am not Italian, and had very little exposure to anything Italian...Trust me Ragu is not Italian.  I've had a lot to live up to.  I've always loved to cook, but I had to learn an entirely new method...make it like they do in Italy.  My regular pantry stock totally changed.  Absolutely no canned, jarred or pre-made anything.  Only Barilla pasta (yes, they actually do use that in Italy, I've seen Tony's aunt's pantry) and lots of it.  I also needed to learn how to cook like a little old Italian lady that loved to watch American Soap Operas.  Well, at least I love General Hospital.  Tony's Grandmom also came over to America with his father.  Though she wasn't doing nearly as much cooking when I got to know her, she gave me some instruction.  After some practice I even cooked for her and she liked it...And trust me, she most certainly wasn't the type of person to fib about what she enjoyed and what she didn't.  One thing that I've learned is that no two Italian women make their food the same, even if they learned from the same person.  It's acceptable and even expected to make it your own.  I've logged a lot of hours in the kitchen, some even barefoot and pregnant, perfecting "recipes" (I use "" because there are no real measurements) and making my Sunday dinners something that Grandmom would be proud of.  So, this little Irish girl is about to do the unthinkable and share her Italian "recipe".  I'm going to give you my approximate measurements and I encourage you to "make it your own".  As far as the sauce goes, I beg of you not to use Ragu...or Prego for that matter!

Bracciole
1 clove of garlic, minced to the point of almost being a paste
a handful of fresh parsley leaves, finely chopped
4 or 5 basil leaves, finely chopped
1 hard-boiled egg, finely chopped (both yolk and white)
a handful of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano (Grandmom said always use Parmigiano Reggiano when cooking, never Pecorino Romano)
a handful of plain bread crumbs
8 thin rectangular slices of beef, pounded out even thinner
string for tying up the rolls, you can use toothpicks, but the string is real Italian
extra virgin olive oil
your sauce...simple is better, just some pureed san marzano tomatoes will do the trick

• mix together all of the ingredients except the beef and oil, oh and the string
• spread the mixture over the beef, maybe a tablespoon and a half or so, enough that it's covered (you may have extra, you can always freeze it and toss it in your meatballs)
• roll the beef up width wise, so the bracciole look like cigars, and secure them with the string or toothpicks
• coat the bottom of a large pot with the olive oil and heat it to medium high
• quickly brown the bracciole
• add your sauce, cover, and simmer over low heat for about 3 hours

I almost forgot the most important part, the pasta...and make sure it's al dente!  Mushy pasta is almost as unforgivable as store-bought sauce.  Enjoy!

Paddy in a Dress

A friend of mine recently posted a link on her Facebook page regarding a little boy wearing pink polish on his toenails.  Apparently, J. Crew was attacked by social conservatives for blurring the line between the sexes.  One person even went so far as to suggest that the child will need intense psychotherapy.  J. Crew's pink toenailed boy

As a Catholic Republican, I'm pretty damn conservative, but even I think this is ludicrous.  Little boys and little girls barely recognize the difference between little boys and little girls.  They only know boys are boys and girls are girls because we tell them.  Paddy's three and a half and still refers to females as "he" and "him" sometimes.  And at 21 months, Mick has no idea that there is a distinction.  Why?  Because it's really just not important to small children.  As long as you're feeding them and keeping them in clean diapers and undies, kids are good with whatever you are...well, mine prefer to run around naked, but you still have to provide food. 

My friend's daughter is a girly girl, to put all other girly girls to shame, and her son is all boy.  He even had his birthday party at the dump (which was actually pretty cool, and all the kids, boys and girls, loved it).  She painted her daughter's nails last summer and her son, who could name every construction vehicle before he was 4, wanted his done.  His behavior was good, so he earned some snazzy yellow toenails.  Paddy had a play date with my college roommate's little girls.  They had a wardrobe full of dress up princess dresses and crowns and veils and wands.  Before they played cars they picked out their favorite dress and accessories and got all dolled up.  It looked like fun, so Paddy asked to put on a dress too.  Kids don't care about "dolls are for girls" and "trucks are for boys".  Whether it's bouncing balls off their brother's giant head, or putting clips in their hair, boys, like girls, just want to do what everyone else is doing if it looks like a good time.  Really, there are worse things in the world than a little boy wearing nail polish.  And if you really want to blame someone for blurring the lines between the sexes, talk to the bra burning hippies!

Chow Time: Tonight's Dinner

I wrote about planning your dinners for a month.  If I'm going to encourage it, I guess I should share some of my dinner ideas.  Wednesday is "Ethnic Night" here, so tonight we're going Argentinian.  I may be stretching it with the sides, but I had a hard time finding Argentine veggies.  Feel free to comment with any suggestions.  If you try my recipes, please comment and let me know what you think and/or what kind of alterations you made.  I love feedback.

Flank Steak with Chimichurri
Roasted Potatoes
Grilled Asparagus and Red Peppers

Chimichurri
2 cups fresh parsley (I like to do half cilantro)
4 cloves garlic
1/2 small onion
2 tbs red wine vinegar
1 tbs fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup olive oil
chop with a food processor or immersion blender
use half the sauce for marinating
grill the flank steak medium rare, cut with the grain into 1/4 inch slices, spoon remaining sauce over steak

Roasted Potatoes
2 large baking potatoes
2 tbs of your favorite dried herbs
1 tbs olive oil
salt and pepper
cut the potatoes in to 1 in cubes and toss in the remaining ingredients, roast for 30 minutes @ 425

Grilled Asparagus and Red Peppers
1 lb asparagus
1 red pepper
1 tbs olive oil
trim the asparagus and slice the peppers (it's prettier if you leave them in rounds, but whatever works)
brush with olive oil and grill

Won't know 'til ya get the therapy bill

I know that I often refer to my one year old and three year old as "monsters", "maniacs", "stinkers", occasionally "rotten turds", and so on.  But if I really think about it, they're not too bad.  And here's where I brag a little...They have awsome sleeping habits (11 hours a night and a 2-3 hour afternoon nap, granted, I run them like dogs), and they don't give me a hard time about going to bed.  They clean up their own toys without much hassle.  Meals aren't difficult.  They eat their fruits and veggies.  They put their shoes away and put their dirty clothes in the hamper.  By no means are they little angels.  They throw tantrums and get mouthy...that little one is quite a wise ass.  Their listening skills leave something to be desired.  They know how to push my buttons and do it more frequently than I'd like.  But at the end of the day, I'd have to say, they're really not bad kids at all.

I feel like I spend most of my motherhood musings on "how bad am I screwing these kids up?"  Am I too hard on them?  Do I let things go when I shouldn't?  When Paddy cries hysterically because he dropped a chick pea on the floor, I think, "is this really a bottled up reaction to hearing Tony and I bicker over the laundry?"  When Micky throws a toy car at Paddy's head because Paddy isn't playing his game, is it because I'm not teaching him how to express himself?  Though, I'm pretty sure that chucking HotWheels at your brother's melon is a one way of expressing anger and frustration...maybe just not the best. 

I'm going to quote my sister in law, Nette, "When you're a mom, it's all on you."  It's true.  Whether or not there's someone else to bear the burden, we, as mothers, feel the full responsibility.  My aunt once told me that she thought I was such a good mom to the boys.  My response was, "They seem ok now, but we'll have to wait and see how much therapy they'll need in 20 years."  Why is it when the kids are behaving and eating their broccoli, we're proud of them and reward them; but when they are kicking their sibling or screaming "NO" at the top of their lungs, we beat ourselves up and wonder where we went wrong?  Moms put in a lot of hard work.  That doesn't mean our kids are going to be perfect, but when they are good, it's ok to pat ourselves on the back.  If we're going to kick ourselves for the tantrums, we need to also take credit for the good manners.  With that in mind, I'm going to proclaim, "I've kept my kids alive and breathing, and they're actually pretty decent little fellows...because I'm a kick ass mom!"  Now I'm going to go reward myself with a couple of Double Chocolate Pepperidge Farm Milanos, and hope that I can pound them before the rugrats wake from their nap.  And hopefully I'll teach the boys the importance of good insurance, 'cause mom's not picking up the psychologist's bill.

Today's Time Saver: Menu for a Month

Planning your dinner menu for four weeks may seem like a daunting task. It's easy, just cheat!

Start with your calendar, a piece of paper broken down into seven columns and four rows, or better yet, an excel spreadsheet, you have to love the cut and paste option. Next you'll need your cookbook, recipe box, and/or the good old Internet. Third, pour a glass of wine. Who doesn't need a glass of wine after the kids go to bed and you're taking on the challenge of figuring out 28 meals?

The key is to standardize your week. This is where the cheating comes in to play. Make every Friday pizza night. Saturdays are for leftovers and snacks (chicken nuggets, taco dip, veggie platter with ranch, etc.), basically a clean out the fridge night. Don't forget there is nothing like big pasta dinners on Sunday. You now have 12 dinners out of the way. Get creative with crock pot Mondays, ethnic Tuesdays, kid's choice Wednesdays, vegetarian Thursdays. You can also make it as simple as pork Mondays, chicken Tuesdays. Once you have your categories, it's just a matter of filling in the blanks (examples ethnic Tuesday: week 1 Mexican tacos with rice and beans, week 2 Greek pork souvlaki with lemon broccoli, week 3 American meatloaf with macaroni and cheese and peas). Get your recipes out and start plugging them in, or find new recipes on one of the great sites like AllRecipes.com or Cooks.com, and you know Rachel Ray has those 30 Minute Meals.

One of the nice things is that you can switch days around depending on what's on sale that week, or what you have time for. Regardless, you now have 28 meals to play with and you don't have to plan another dinner menu for a month.  It's time to celebrate, have another glass of wine...or two.

I may be blond, but I'm a brunette mom.

Paddy went to his first preschool buddy birthday party yesterday.  The entire class was invited to Jumpers (a big inflatable slide and bounce house place) to play and have pizza and cake.  Paddy was so excited.  I was armed with my blackberry to keep me company since I don't know any of the other kids' moms.  When we got out of the car, kids were yelling "Paddy D's here!" and "Hey Paddy!"...made me feel pretty good.  Of course Paddy took off and left me standing there alone with my blackberry.  He was fine and didn't need me.  So I started introducing myself to the other moms.  "Hi, I'm Jess, Paddy D's mom".  I kept hearing, "oh [insert classmate name here] talks about Paddy D all the time, he just loves him."  Again, have to admit, I loved it.  I did my best to try to strike up conversations.  Some of the other moms knew each other since they had older kids that attended school together.  As soon as there was a sign that uncomfortable silence might be settling in, I pretended I couldn't see Paddy and went to look for him.  In the first hour you could see the moms move into their circles.  There were the blonds that all seemed to know each other and serve on the parent's group.  There were the brunettes that didn't seem to know each other but chatted about common kid stuff.  Then there was the foreign couple, they kind of stuck together (really like that mom though, she does Facebook, cool).  And of course the token dad.  Here's where I tell you that I'm not exaggerating.  The groups were really as distinct as hair color.  The dad kind of lingered near the brunettes, but that would make sense, being that he was also a brunette (curious where he would have ended up had he been blond, hmm).

Considering that I'm blond, volunteered for the parent's group, had a kid that all the other kids wanted to play with, and was sporting a Coach pocketbook, it would seem pretty clear as to which crew I'd be runnin' with, right?  WRONG!  "Why?" you ask.  Well, it seems that all of the blond moms paid good money to be blond, and I come by it naturally.  This may also by why I never got called when I signed up to volunteer.  Apparently, the cool kid and Coach bag just weren't enough, you also need to kiss the asses of the other blond moms as well as their children's and endure having your heiny smooched too.  As the party progressed and I mingled, I realized that all the blond moms talked about were how wonderful the other's kids are, how nice their new car is, how great their husband is, their beautiful backyard ("you have to give me your landscaper's number") and so on.  They weren't pretentious, definitely borderline, but it was like they all had these perfectly wonderful lives and just stood around complimenting each other on it.  Sooo not me.  Don't get me wrong, I think I have a nice home, a nice car, I love my husband and kids, some days more than others, but I don't need to be told how lovely it all is...and I'm certainly not down with swooning over your fantastic wonderfulness.

Now, the brunettes, they may not have been the "cool kids", but I liked that fact that they wore ponytails and didn't have their hair perfectly styled.  They wore their babies not bejeweled ballet flats.  They were more concerned with their kid beating up another kid rather than telling me how perfect my kid is.  They nursed in public.  They laughed about what their house was going to look like when they got home after leaving their husband with the other kids all afternoon.  I could totally get on board with that one, considering there is usually a broken glass within 5 minutes of me leaving.  Yes, the brunettes did not even pretend to live perfect lives, and they found the humor in the misadventures of their day to day goings on.  I'd much rather laugh about my husband trying to clean up crushed cheerios with a flowbee than have a perfect dye job.  I am definitely a brunette mom.  And that's just fine with me.  It's enough that all the kids want to play with mine...even the blondies' kids.

Twilight...Am I really sitting here watching this?

Friday has been "pizza and movie night" for about a year or so in our house.  Before his nap (that's right, the 3yr old still takes a nice long nap, thank you God), Paddy gets to pick what kind of pizza or stromboli I'll be making for dinner.  The first choice for a movie is usually Disney's "Cars", however, we can usually talk the boys into something else with the promise of extra popcorn.  Tonight we had plain pizza with a side of green beans and the movie was "Cloudy with a Side of Meatballs".  I missed most of it, due to the 11 loads of laundry that I was folding, but it was cute.  By 8:00 the kitchen and dining room were cleaned up, the kids were sound asleep, the husband was out with his brother-in-law, all 11 loads of laundry were folded and put away, and oh my goodness, I had the opportunity to sit!

Right now we have the Showtime/Encore/Starz preview, so I figured I'd take advantage of it and watch a movie.  Woo Hoo!  I get to choose a movie to watch all by myself...How often does that happen?  So I started scroll through the onDemand list and came across "Twilight".  Maybe 2 years ago, just about everyone I knew had read the books and were just giddy over the movie.  Keep in mind most of the "everyone" that I know are 20 and 30 something housewives.  That's right, you know who you are!  Anyway, I have been kind of proud that I'm one of five people that I know that has successfully avoided buying into the Twilight hype...Until now.  I couldn't stop myself.  I pressed the select button, yes, I did it.  Ok, I tried, I really did.  I don't get it.  C'mon, a family of baseball playing vampires cooking Italian for the little human girl?  It was just weird.  I kept watching, waiting for it to get "really good" as i have been told it is.  It never happened, but still I couldn't turn it off.  Here's what even more weird, I think I need to see the next one.  Trust me, I have no delusions of Twilight grandeur, but I feel like they left me hanging and I need to to find out what happens next.  I'm so disappointed in myself.

My Very First Post...Go Me!

So here goes, my very first post on my very own blog.  Honestly, I'm not sure how I have time to do this, but I'm going to chalk it up to "doing something for myself"...So, we'll see how often it gets updated.

I've been a stay at home mom for 3 1/2 years to Paddy (Sept. '07) and Micky (July '09).  I always heard about how difficult yet rewarding it was.  You just don't know until you do it.  I think if anyone actually experienced full-blown motherhood, they might reconsider applying for the job.  It's tough.  And it is a job.  Your bosses are demanding, whiney and juvenile.  They want to be constantly entertained and they don't care if you're sick or tired or haven't eaten all day.  On the up-side, they also don't care if you haven't showered or changed your clothes in 2 days.  You don't have a cubicle, desk, or any real work space of your own, yet you're responsible for the entire property.  There are no coffee breaks, paychecks, promotions, fun office gossip, and no pooping with the bathroom door closed.  Oh and the hours are 12:00am - 11:59pm Sunday through Saturday, with zero vacation days.  Who in their right mind would take this job?

Yes, I know, I am blessed, there are many people that are unable to have children that want nothing more.  I'm not complaining.  There is nothing more amazing than hearing my boys say "Thank you" because I taught them manners; seeing them help each other clean up because I taught them about team work; watching them kiss each other's boo-boos because I taught them compassion.  I do love my job.  I also love wine.