Lemon-Basil Cod Cakes

I have 7 new members of my family to introduce. No name #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7.

A few days ago, we went to the pet store to buy fish. Yay. Yippee.

There was never really any choice in the matter. When our pet rat died I would have promised Shelbi the world to get her to stop crying and smile. It took some time, but she moved on, and at 9:34 am Sunday morning, she decided that she must have new fish NOW. Meaning, she wanted us to immediately run to the store and get her fish before A.) they ran out or B.) the Apocalypse comes.

"Fine," I say, "We'll go."

But, nothing is ever that simple. Upon hearing the news, Bella started crying, whining and moping around the house because 'she never gets anything. Shelbi always gets everything.' Which is really code for, "Damn it, I want a fish too!"  Which means Soledad must have a fish, because we can't just get the older girls one and leave her out in the cold; we aren't that horrible of parents.  So I decide since we are already buying 3 fish, I'll throw in a few more just in case I get pregnant on the way to the store, I won't have to go back.

We hop in the car, and eagerly drive to the store to pick out our new family members. Fish, that's a rather easy pet. How hard can it be?

I'LL TELL YOU HOW HARD IT CAN BE!!!! Do you realize that pet store fish are not of the same quality as the fish we used to buy. They must have water conditioner, special food, air pumps, lights on tanks, nets, decorations for their houses. Not only that, but brace yourself, they are supposed to swim in drinking water. Seriously?  My goldfish, Pinky, had a small round bowl, some flakes and tap water. I didn't even have a net, I just reached in and grabbed her when I needed to take her out,  and she did just fine (. . . . . for about 2 weeks).

I spent much more money than I ever anticipated, and a lot more effort than any sane mom would have agreed too. But all's well that ends well. My kiddos are happy, excited and googley eyed about their new fish.

Oh, and now I have a birth announcement.  No name #5 just had 3 babies. That skanky ho.

- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In celebration of the  arrival of The "No Names 1-7" and our 3 new mouths to feed, we'll be serving a light and flaky Lemon-Basil Cod Cake.  Try it out; you'll like it, even if you think you don't like fish.

Lemon-Basil Cod Cakes

Ingredients:

1 1/2 pounds of fresh cod fillets
Olive oil
2 eggs
1/4 cup of finely chopped onion
2 TB mayonnaise
2 TB lemon juice
2 TB Dijon mustard
1/2 cup bread crumbs
3 TB fresh basil
Salt and pepper

Directions:

1.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
2.  Place fish into a shallow baking dish. Drizzle with oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook in oven for 15-20 minutes or until it is cooked thoroughly and easily flakes with a fork.
3.  In a medium sized bowl, combine the remaining ingredients and mix well.
4.  Form the mixture into large meatball size balls.
5.  In a skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of oil over a medium heat. Place the ball into the skillet, and gentle pat it flat with the back of a spatula. Cook each cake about 2 minutes on each side and until golden brown.

The Best Lunch Ever

I just discovered that my 3 year old has the heart of Sister Theresa. I guess my head has been in a hole.

I've never met anyone like her before. I've met lots of people who are loving, and who love to hug, and kiss, and be affectionate.  This is not her. She doesn't need that. She'll take it, but she is completely content to be by herself.  I guess it shouldn't surprise me, because we did name her Soledad, which means solitude. But once, I met this guy named Forest and he wasn't green nor did he have leaves coming out of his head. Go figure.

Anyway, yesterday Soledad came up to me and said, "Mama, I wanna do somethin' for you today. I think I'll make you lunch.", and she proceeded to get out a plate and make a very balanced meal of Rice Chex, banana, carrots with baby formula sprinkled on top (for added calcium?), a Peanut Butter and Jelly whole wheat sandwich, with a granola bar for dessert. Then she placed it on the kitchen table, and asked me to come and sit down next to her.

We sat and talked while I devoured my surprisingly delicious lunch. The carrots were my favorite (I'm not kidding). Towards the end of our lunch she said, "You know mama, I made this lunch for you because you always make my lunch, but you never eat lunch.  I want you to have a good lunch too."

And to that I replied, "Well Soli, this is the best lunch that I've ever had. Thank you."

Clear Lake Shores Farmers Market

I'm a procrastinator in all aspects of my life. Also, I'm a complainer. Generally, I complain about something I don't want to do, or even the things I do want to do. Then, I put off doing them.  Finally, when faced with no other alternative I do "it", and wonder why I didn't do "it" sooner. It's a vicious cycle.

Last weekend, I went to a place I've wanted to go for the last 2 years, but didn't because I was too busy complaining about it. I was complaining about not knowing EXACTLY where it was. I was complaining about not knowing what it would be like, and what type of stuff they sold (uhhhhh. . . .fruits. . . .vegetables. . . .maybe some plants).  I was complaining about not being able to go to my old favorite Farmer's Market in Dallas B-E-C-A-U-S-E, my husband knocked me up 4 times and then decided to move my butt to this crazy city that I HATED (but now love). 

When I stopped complaining, I began putting it off. It's too hot. It's too cold.  I'm pregnant. I'm hungry.

But last weekend, as the complaining and pitiful excuses starting swirling around in my head, I began to get on my nerves.  So I told myself to shut up, woke up bright and early, and drove my complaining a** to the farmer's market.

When I got there, I was speechless (and not just because I was by myself). The scene was glorious.  The sun was shining its warm yellow face on the outstretched awnings that showcased the produce. There was a constant crunching of gravel as the people busied themselves moving from stand to stand trying to find the best deals on vegetables. Murmurs and laughs could be heard throughout, and there were heavenly scents of freshly baked croissants, gyros, and  Jambalaya that filled the air.

It reminded me of my childhood, and in particular, my mom. Of the sweet smells that nestled on her skin, and of her soft hands as she held my hand tight as we walked down the aisles of the farmers market. It reminded me of nibbling on strawberries and kiwis as I perused a rack of dangling earrings. And of the smell of steaming hot menudo, churros, and crispy french fries in buckets. I could hear her soft pillowy voice speaking in fragments as she haggled with the farmers. The days were always sunny; the breeze was always perfect.

Why would I deny myself this perfection? Why did I wait this long to visit this glorious place? My mother was always the first to tell me to hurry up, and stop complaining. And now I know why. Because perfection awaits around the corner, and you might just miss it, if you don't shut up and move.

I See You

I see you.

Lover of Nintendo.

Genius of Math.

Boss of Sisters.

Reader of minds.

Creator of Art.

Stealer of my heart.

5 minute Pumpkin Muffins (only two ingredients needed)

We've been spending A LOT of time at the softball park.  Consequently, Soledad has been spending A LOT of time getting to know the mothers, grandmothers, and aunts of the softball players.  Before each and every game, Warwick and I have a long talk with her.

"Now, listen Soli. People come to the softball game to WATCH the game.  They can't watch the game if they're worried about talking to you. TODAY, we are going to sit by ourselves, eat our snack, and cheer for your sister. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED to go bother anybody during the game. Especially not that lady you really like."

Of course, Soledad agrees. Wide eyed, and eager she replies, "Okay Daddy. Memba. I'm not gonna eva talk to anybody again. Okay?"  Warwick just rolls his eyes and walks away.

Let's face it. It's a proven fact that she is a liar. A fibber. A deceiver. A fabricator. Whatever you want to call it. On occasion, she does not tell the truth.

Her father knows that she is only agreeing to get us to shut our pie holes long enough to get in public where she can do whatever she wants because she knows that typically we don't like to scream and holler in front of civilized people.

With all that being said, when we arrived at the ballpark Soledad wiggled and squirmed the entire time. She kept trying to migrate over to her favorite fan, but her dad and I kept wrangling her in. There were a couple of puppies at the game, and that helped to divert her attention some. The rest of the time, Warwick and I just pulled on her, tried to talk her to death, so the nice lady could enjoy the softball game.

After the game, when we all started to process out of the stands and back to our cars, Soli pleaded to go and tell the nice lady good bye. What the heck, I thought. How much can Soli bother her in 3 minutes?

So, Soledad ran ahead and caught up with her favorite fan who was pushing her elderly mother in a wheel chair. I could see they were very happy to see Soli, and she immediately began chatting about this and that. Soledad walked along side the wheel chair with her arm sitting on the arm rest as she talked. After a few minutes, all three stopped and the lady in the wheelchair leaned over to whisper something in Soledad's ear. With a completely serious look on her face, Soli looked up into her eyes and said, "Well of course there is! EVERYBODY has enough love to give to whoever they want!" And then Soledad leaned over and KISSED THAT LADY (A STRANGER) FULL BLOWN ON THE LIPS!!!!!

AAAaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!  OMG! OMG! I'm not sure, but I think that's in the parenting handbook under, "Things you are NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, supposed to let your children do."

And as quick as it happened, Soli put her chin up into the air, did an about face and returned back to me. I just looked down at her not knowing what in the world to say or do. It's like she's some kind of dissident lover, who refuses to conform to the rules of society. It's as if she has so much love, she just can't be contained. Should I contain it? Do I tell her not to love strangers, THAT WAY? Is there a right way to love people you don't know? I'm thinking, yes. Just a hunch.

I've heard her speak about Jesus, and how Jesus loved everybody, and I really think that's what she's trying to do. Maybe Jesus can help me now.

Oh Lord, Please Help Me. Help me not to be jaded by the world so that my children can learn to love with open hearts. Let me learn to be ever faithful, ever caring, and ever loving once again. Lord, send us your grace so that we can navigate through this strange place with the deepest of love for all people. Please help me to remember that those you place in my life, are here to teach me lessons that I have not yet learned. Heavenly father, guide us all to love, and to light, and to laughter. Amen.

Now that we've gotten our prayers out of the way, today's item on the agenda. . . .5 minute pumpkin muffins for my sweet pumpkin Soledad, who well  . . . . . . . is very good for my heart, just like these muffins.

5 Minute Pumpkin Muffins

They take five minutes to make, 20 minutes to cook!

Ingredients:

1 Box of Yellow Butter Cake Mix (Spice Cake Mix is also good, but yellow if my fave.)
1 15 oz. Can of Pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix - PLAIN PUMPKIN)

*the ingredients above make a very nice moist muffin. However, if you want to make the supreme version of these try adding 2 eggs, 1/2 cup of nuts, and 1/2 cup of raisins for added fluffiness and richness. 

Directions:

1.  In a large bowl, mix cake mix and pumpkin (and eggs if using) until well combined. After the ingredients are well blended, you can add the nuts and raisins if you like.


2.  Into a lined muffin tin, spoon batter into each muffin cup. I fill the cups to the brim, so that when they bake the muffins are extra large.  This recipe will make about 12 extra large muffins.

3. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 20-25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted comes out clean. Only cook for 18-22 minutes if you are only filling the cups 2/3 full.

Shrimp Boil the Easy Way

It just ain't right, on a weeknight.

Unbutton yo' pants, cuz yo' belly gonna do a happy dance.

We ain't died, but our happiness done multiplied. 


Ah Eazee Shrimp Boil that gun make you wanna slap yo' mama
and not spicy or hot so yo' babies can lick them finga's!

Ingredients:

2 lbs large shrimp deveined, but not peeled
1 lb small potatoes
8 corn cobettes
One sachet of Louisianna brand Crab, Crawfish, Shrimp Boil (I promise it's not hot or spicy)
1-2 lemons, halved (optional)
2 TB salt
Hot Sauce
Cocktail Sauce

Directions:

1.  In a large pot, place cobbettes, potatoes, and Louisiana boil sachet.
2.  Fill pot with water, add salt and lemon and cover. Bring pot to boil, and cook until potatoes are tender about 15 minutes.
3.  Add shrimp and cook for 2 minutes.
4.  Remove from heat, and let sit for 5 minutes longer.
5. Drain and STUFF YO' FACE!

Gratitude

Dear Internet,

I'm scared.  I think I might be in some alternate universe. I woke up today and everything seemed normal, until my 9 year old was nice to me for over an hour.  My five year old got out of bed, without any coaxing, and my 3 year old only screamed at the top of her lungs 3  4 times. And the baby, the sweet little baby slept until 8 am.

Breakfast was on the table by 7, and every head of hair was combed by 7:30. *tears begin falling* The Jazz music channel was playing on the TV, AND NOBODY ASKED TO CHANGE THE CHANNEL! And, and, I don't know if I should say this but, my children read books while eating their breakfast. *gasp*

I know. It's crazy.  Something is definitely up. I could just be grateful or chalk it up to alien abductions. 

I think I'll just be grateful for alien abductions.

Sincerely,

Nicki Woo

Vegetable Garden: Day Two

Welcome to My Garden! Or should I say Welcome to My Life. No exclamation point needed.

I always do this. I always have much toooooo much going on in my life garden.  My eyes get all big and googly, and I want it ALL!!!! Not enough time, that's okay, I'll do it.  Not enough space, that's okay, we'll make room.  Over budget, oh well, we always are!  Uuuuuggggghhhhh.

Case and point.  Exhibit A:  THE GARDEN

So steps 1, 2, and 3 went great. Especially since Warwick did them. He's a bit of an anal retentive perfectionist. But it's all good. That's one of the millions of reasons that I love him.

Me:   Anal, yes. Retentive, no.  Perfectionist, H-E- double hockey sticks NO!

Just look at this mess I've created.

I know it doesn't look like a mess, but it will in just a few short months. Like every other year, I planted too much, and too close together.  The herbs in front should be okay (but what do I know). And the crazy part is there are seeds that lurk beneath that have yet to break the surface. I should be called the renegade gardener.  Because I literally have broken all the rules. Rules I know, rules I understand, rules I just chose to pretend don't exist.

Can you plant cucumbers, tomatoes, or okra 2 ft apart? No.

Can you do without 6 hours of sun? No.

Is it okay that my bigger plants might shade the smaller ones? No.

I can not plead ignorance.  My only plea is insanity. Oh, and Warwick.  Yeh, I think this all boils down to him. He indulges me, and then when I spout out just a little bit of wisdom, he throws in a monkey wrench and says, "Yeh, I really think we should try putting the vegetable garden near the kitchen, out of the way."

I say, "No, I don't think that's a good idea.  There's not enough space over there, and I'm not sure if it gets enough sun in the summer time."

He says, "Oooh. Hmmmm. Well I think we should try it out.  OH - LOOK WHAT I FOUND AT SAM'S! A raised garden kit, just like you've always wanted. We could get 2! I'll fill it with soil for you, if we put it next to the kitchen."

I say, "I want it, I want it, I want it! Dare I dream the dream. You promised me the world, and now you've given me more than I could ever hope for.  A Raised Vegetable Garden, IN THE DARK! Thanks."

Pinkaliscious!

She has issues. . . .but she definitely knows how to dress!

Killer Submarine Sandwich

I love my husband. I really do. So when he called me on Saturday morning while I was in the middle of cooking, and told me that he was stranded at the gas station because the car wouldn't start, I smiled to myself, grabbed my keys and was out the door to save his a**.

So far, it had been a good day. A little rainy outside, gray and cloudy, but to be honest I really like those days best. I wear the gray like a warm comfy sweater, and the droplets of rain like tiny little kisses all over my skin.

I pulled the truck into the Valero, and questioned my husband as to where I should park so that I could, or rather so he could give himself a jump. I'm not afraid to say it, I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CARS, AND FRANKLY I DON'T WANT TO!

Anyway, I stepped out of the truck so that he could hook it up, and poke it out, and rev it up some more. He did that about twenty times, before deciding that it was not going to start and he was going to have to push the car into a parking spot.  My stomach started to cringe, because that meant I would have to get into the "Kerplunked" car and guide the wheel while he pushed it. Would I do it correctly?  Would I be strong enough to turn the wheel if there was no power? Would I remember how to drive? Is he going to think I'm an idiot and get a divorce? I'm not kidding, I really had those thoughts.

So with my stomach in knots, pretending to act like I knew what I was doing, I said . . . .

"Okay, push it.  I'm ready."

Warwick:  "Nicole, put the car in neutral.  Have you ever done this before?"

Me:  "Uuuuhhhh, nooooo. Not everybody has done everything before like you. How was I supposed to know you have to put it in neutral.*fumbles around* "Okay, it's in neutral."

Warwick: "Now, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Okay? Then, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah. Got it?"

Me: "Yeh, sure."

Only I didn't have it. I wasn't listening to a word he said. I mean, I was listening, I think, but I got distracted. You see, after I put the car in neutral, he was still talking to me, but he was pushing the car at the same time. He looked so muscular and strong, and he was so cute as he was pushing the car with just his brute strength. All I could think was, Now that's a man's man. He's so smart, and he really is very strong. It doesn't even look like it's very difficult. I'm so glad I'm his lobster.

And then suddenly, the relaxed look on his face started to change and grow stiffened, maybe even strained. I kept looking into his eyes trying to figure out what was wrong when he abruptly stopped pushing the car, and immediately started yelling.

Warwick: "What are you doing? I said back the car into that space. YOU'RE TURNING THE WHEEL THE WRONG WAY!"

Me: "Well, how was I supposed to know?  You didn't say back up into the space."

Warwick: "YES, I DID!!!!"

Me: "Oh well, I thought you meant, ummm 'back in that space is where we should park it.' I didn't know you meant to put the back part in first. WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME? YOU SOUND SO MEAN AND RUDE! I DON'T YELL AT YOU WHEN YOU MAKE A MISTAKE!!!"

Warwick:  "Okay, okay. IN. THE. FUTURE. when your car has died and you need to park it in a parking spot, you always want to back it in so that you can jump it if you need to. NOW, turn the wheel the other way so that you can BACK INTO THAT SPOT."

Me: "Fine."

And with that, I turned the wheel, and I discovered why he had gotten so ticked off. We were going up a slight hill, and now all of his momentum was lost. Suddenly, he didn't look quite as strong as he did minutes earlier. His face was strained, his eyes were red, and clearly he was pissed off. He began mumbling some more things at me, but this time, I purposefully wasn't listening because I was pissed off for no reason.

He looked even more brute with his eyes bulging out of his head, and his veins ready to burst right out of his arms from sheer force. His brow became more pronounced, and his jaw grew lean and sharp.  It was like when Lou Ferrigno turned into the Incredible Hulk, only Warwick didn't turn green, he just stayed black.  All the same, it was something to see.

Once the car was parked smartly in it's spot (thanks to me), he reached over and snatched the keys out my hand. Normally, I wouldn't have let that go without a mention, but this time I thought, I guess I'll let it slide. I gave him a kiss, followed by a chuckle, and then he smiled back at me.

No, that boy just can't resist me. I run this booch.

I'll have him on his knees begging for mercy, especially after he eats this sandwich.
_________________________________________________________________________
The Best Submarine Sandwich EVER

Ingredients:

Hoagie Rolls
Mayonaise
Provolone Cheese
Deli Sliced Honey Ham
Deli Sliced Smoked Turkey
Turkey Pepperoni Slices
Lettuce
Tomatoes
Pickles
Mustard

Directions:

1.  Spread mayonaise on both inner sides of the hoagie loaf.
2.  Begin by making a bottom layer of cheese, followed by turkey, ham, pepperoni, lettuce, tomatoes, and    pickles. Drizzle with mustard, and press down firmly. Enjoy!!!

Vegetable Garden: Day One

I am over the moon excited about my new venture. A vegetable garden.  For me, it's as if I am molding my very own secret garden, with winding pathways, and lush canopy's that whisper my name. It's true, my piece of earth is only 14 X 3.5 ft, so dare I say, I won't get lost within its ever flourishing green vegetation, but my mind will. No, my mind has.

It's beautiful and marvelous that such a simple thing, can remind you of what it means to be here, on this earth, in this world. It's the reason why I can't wait to share it with my family once again. When my girls and I tend to our garden, pull weeds, and harvest our vegetables, I won't have to tell them, look at what a wonderful life God gives you.  They will already know. 

Every time they pull a succulent tomato off the vine, I won't have to remind them of the beauty that surrounds us all the time. They will already know. 

When they step out into the garden in the humid evening to find okra that has grown bounds in a single day, I won't have to tell them that life goes by so fast. They will already know.

This summer when we sit in the grass munching on cucumbers crispy and fresh, I won't have to tell them that hard work pays off.  They will already know.

When they pick a leaf from the Stevia plant, they will taste just how sweet life is. And when we make salsa with the peppers from our pepper plant, they will know that a fire lies deep within us all.

Some believe that gardening is for simple people.  But to me, there is nothing simple about it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's a peak at some of the stuff we are planting this year. . . . .

This is a watermelon. . . .uuuhhhhh, maybe.  It wasn't labeled, it was the last one left, and part of it is bent in a bad way. The nursery guy said he'd give it to me TAX FREE, because he was too lazy to go and find his manager. So, I said SOLD. 

Originally, I told my kids under no circumstances will we be growing watermelon, "THEY TAKE UP TOO MUCH ROOM!" But when I saw this sad pathetic creature (the plant, not the nursery guy), I wondered if God was trying to stage an intervention and I figured I better not take any chances.

This is Stevia.  I can hardly contain my eagerness as I type those letters.  This plant is completely crazy, and ohhhhhh so much fun. The leaves are 30 X's sweeter than sugar. When you put them in your mouth, it tastes kind of like Sugar Cane. What could be bad about that?  When I saw the plant, I knew I had to have it. I think it will be fun inventing recipes with my kids with Stevia in mind.  I'm not sure how well it will grow in Texas, but it'll be fun trying.

 Oh, lovely, lovely arugula.  Nobody in my family likes this plant, BUT I DON'T CARE!!!! I've tried to share with them the beauty of its smooth texture and peppery bight, but all they give me in return are negative comments and scowls.  So I say to them, "Chastise me if you must, but I'm putting it in your sandwiches!"

We are also planting tomatoes, Okra, Cucumber, Bell Pepper, Basil, and Thyme. Oh, oh, oh and some oregano and strawberries that I neglected to kill from last years garden. Here's to killing fewer plants this year!

Tax Day Freebies 2010

THIS JUST IN FROM MY SISTER IN DALLAS. . . . . .

Wanted to share a few freebies that came my way while at home last night….

· Jamba Juice is having a 20th anniversary party and celebrating by offering us BOGO drinks! You can grab the coupon HERE and use it April 12-25. YUMMY!

· Register to become a QuikTrip Web Group Member to receive money saving coupons. The first coupon will be a FREE hot dog & 32oz fountain drink!

· Cinnabon is giving away 2 FREE cupcake bites on April 15th (tax deadline day) from 6-8pm. Click HERE for more details. Click here to find a location near you.

· On Thursday, April 15th, bring a reusable travel mug into your local Starbucks and get a FREE brewed coffee!!!

· Take a last minute tax break with this great new printable coupon from Boston Market. It is for a buy one individual plate and get one free. Valid from April 15-18. Click HERE to print

· McDonalds is offering a special offer on April 15th – Buy one Big Mac, Get one for 1¢!! As always, check your local location first to make sure they are participating! It's been advertised on the radio though!

 P.F. Changs China Bistro is offering 15% off all food purchases on Tax Day (April 15th). Click HERE to view the add.

and Warwick says . . . .

Jack in the Box has FREE small fries this Friday (4/16/10) ... a.k.a. "Free FRY DAY" Click HERE to see the add.

All month long in April, IHOP is offering "Kid's Eat Free" from 4-10pm.  Receive one free kids meal with each adult entree purchase. 

This little piggy might need a pedicure. . . .

"Is it okay if my baby's pinky toenails are growing perpendicular to her feet?" I said leerily.

"Hmmmmm." pondered the doctor. "Let's see.  Oh, wow, hum. Do you clip them? I see, I see. *tap, tap, tap* Try using curved scissors."  She leaned in for a closer look.  "Well. . . . . . . sometimes this happens. We won't worry about this now. These things usually sort themselves out."

I think I'll worry NOW.

Easy Fresh Strawberry Pie

When people meet my husband Warwick, they're like "WOW, he's so great!  He's sooooo smart!  He's sooooo nice. . . . .he's such a great father. . . . . . he's soooooo handsome . . . . ." blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Everybody loves him.

Old ladies love him, children love him, even thugs love him.

From the first time he ever set foot in my mother's house she loved him like her own, slobbery kisses included. My sister treats him like her own brother, and trusts him with her kids, which is saying a lot.  When my pops first found out that we were getting married, he called Warwick to threaten his life with promises of limb ripage (is that a word?) if he ever put a hand on me, Warwick responded with a half grin, a chuckle, and a "Yes sir. I understand sir, "then proceeded to tell me how much my dad loves me.

Me on the other hand, when people meet me they're like " Huh, she sure does make a lot of facial expressions. . . . . .why does her mouth scrunch up like that when she drinks from a bottle? . . . .boy, she talks A LOT.  I wonder if she's breathing between words."

I'm a little ummmm. . . .different, to say the least.  And I'm super proud of the fact that I am who I am, and I don't try to be anyone else. Usually. Well, mostly. Okay sometimes.

But definitely, when I'm around my mother-in-law, I seem to lose my mind. Only because I am convinced she's thinking a few more things about me in her head, than I mentioned above.

I love her.  And, I am sure that she love's me. But, and there is a but, I am POSITIVE, that she does not feel for me, the same way that my mother feels about Warwick. Well, I say positive, I think I'm positive. It's not like I can read her mind.  And it's not like she is the same woman as my mom, who wears her emotions on her sleeve (in a good way Mommy, in a good way).

My mother-in-law is emotional, I guess, but not when it comes to me. Which is good right?  Who wants someone blubbering, and all crazy like, slobbering and kissing on you, and thinking you're the best thing since apple pie?

Uuuuuuhhhhh. . . . . . .. maybe I do.  Again, I have problems.

So anyway, OBVIOUSLY, I have a need for this woman who gave birth to the most important person in my world, to like me.  Which, as I've said before, she does, but I am still neurotic an insecure about it.  So I am forced to do things like make a slightly strange Peppermint Pie for Christmas dinner (because her favorite candy is peppermint) that everybody refuses to touch. Or spout off bights of wisdom at a Sunday dinner, to prove my intellectual superiority (not). Or give her a list of "100 rules to follow" when watching my children, her grandchildren, to prove that I am a good mother. I could go on and on.

My latest transgression, where my mother in law is concerned involves my choice of pie to bring to Easter dinner.

While shopping in our local grocery store (H-E-B in case you wanna buy this pie) Shelbi and I sampled the most wonderful pie IN THE UNIVERSE.  I do not say this lightly. It was a Fresh Strawberry Pie.  I don't even like strawberry pie, but this one was heavenly. Fresh strawberries in cloud of a slightly dense whipped cream drizzled with glaze, and a slight crunch of nuts that were sprinkled on top. Damn! It was good. . . and. . . .. .it was on sale.  $5.99.  You can't even make it that cheap.  I don't even have to think about this. Right? Easy, peasy.

SELF:   Buy this pie. It is delicious. Everyone will love it. Strawberries are very Eastery.

EGO:    Are you kidding me? Nothing in life is easy. Show your worth, girl. You better make that pie. What kinda wife are you?

SELF:  A very good one, thank you VERY MUCH! Anyway, it's cheaper to buy the pie.  And even if I wanted to make it, I don't have the recipe, so I can't!

EGO:  How hard can it be? Just pick up some whipping cream, and go ask the baker what he did.  I know it'll take you a lot longer to make than buying it. And I know that it appears as if GOD put this pie here for you on this day because you are soooooooooo busy, and could use a break, but come on, make it anyway.  I'm sure your in-laws would prefer a less superior pie than the one you can buy, because you made it.  Come; make life harder on yourself than it needs to be.

So, what did I do? *shakes her head in utter disappointment* I made the pie.*sigh*

Was it as good as the grocery store pie?    NO.

I mean, it was good.  Dare I say, really good, but the H-E-B pie was better.

Why do I torment myself needlessly trying to prove to people that I am good enough? No, seriously, why?  That's not rhetorical, I really want to know.  Please comment below.

Fresh Strawberry Pie

Ingredients:


1 nine inch pastry shell
2 pounds of strawberries, washed and hulled (you’ll have extra)
8 oz. (more if you like A LOT of whipped cream) whipping cream
3 TB powdered sugar
½ cup granulated sugar
1 ½ tsp cornstarch
¼ cup water
1 TB butter or margarine
Red food coloring, optional
4 oz. of vanilla pudding (I used a snack sized pre-made pudding)
Crushed nuts

Directions:

1. Bake pie crust according to manufacturer’s directions. Cool.
2. Wash and hull your strawberries making sure the do not sit in the water, so that they do not absorb the water and make your pie soggy.
3. Mash enough strawberries to make ½ cup of pulp.
4. In a small saucepan, combine sugar, water, and cornstarch. Stir continuously, and cook over medium heat until translucent and boiling. Add strawberry pulp and butter. Remove from heat. If desired add 5-10 drops of red food coloring. Cool.
5. Meanwhile, determine how many strawberries you’ll need to fill your crust. Slice the strawberries in half. Set aside.
6. In a medium sized bowl, whip the cream until soft peaks form. Add sugar, and continue to whip until peaks stiffen. Remove half of the whipped cream and set aside for garnish.
7. Fold vanilla pudding into the whipped cream. Add hulled and sliced strawberries. Pour into pie crust.
8. Place approximately 10 (depending on the size) whole strawberries in the center of the pie. Cover with cooled glaze.
9. Spread the remaining whipped cream around the edge of the pie. Sprinkle with crushed nuts. Serve.

How to Get Your Sheets Really Clean

I gotta give mad props to Warwick for folding these sheets!

Only a crazy woman would tell this story, and admit that this was her family she was talking about.

As usual, this story starts with me. 

I was sitting at the computer, with Phoebe on one leg, and Soledad on the other, perusing through YouTube. An early lesson to my youngins on the merriment of music, and in particular, James Morrison.  We watched the You Give Me Something video, oh let's say for the 20th time when my sweet handsome man arrived home from work.  All the children flocked to him, and those that could not for lack of walking abilities, where given to him.

I remained on the computer to type, write, and check emails, all things I had been trying to do since 8am, but flying Woodard Monkeys kept me from completing that task.  As I typed, the rowdiness in the background began to ensue. High pitched shrieks, thump, thump, thumping, and whines about food and starvation erupted.

And as usual, whenever anyone complains, fusses, or looks sideways, Daddy says . . . . . .

"Oh, it looks like somebody is tired.  Why don't you guys go upstairs and put on your pajamas?"  It's 6:30pm. They are not tired. Whatever, why am I complaining?

A chorus of pleases and negations can be heard, but in the end Daddy wins, and they all march upstairs to put on their jammys.

Moments later they reconvene in the living room.

"What is that smell?" Warwick chokes.  "Soledad come here. OOOOOOHHHHHH!  Where did you get that nightgown?"

"From under my pillow." Eyes wide and lovely, not understanding why everyone was puking all around.

"Soledad, go put that in the dirty clothes hamper right now!  That stinks, okay? Go and get a new nightgown.  Hurry, go!"

Warwick then strolls into the study, where I, The Great Purveyor of laundry, sit waiting to give counsel.

"What was that all about?"  I asked, as if I hadn't heard every single word  in the other room.

With one eyebrow pinched upward, and his head tilted to the side, he smiles at me (so cute), and says "Dirty nightgown.  I told her to put it in the dirty clothes."

And then, a conversation begins about nothing in particular at all, until I start hearing shrieks, moans, and groans. At first they were far away, and then slowly they began getting louder, and louder and louder. Soledad ran by singing, did a pirouette, and I noticed a pink silky nightgown flying like a kite, as she held her hand in the air.

I BLACKED OUT. Knocked completely unconscious.  When I awoke, the stench in the air was UNIDENTIFIABLE.  There are no words to describe how horrible that smell was. But let's try.  It was rank, puke-ish, yet did not smell like puke, more like urine that has fermented for hundreds of years in a dark damp cellar at the center of the sulphur universe where a party is being given by 300 skunks in a rest stop bathroom.  Can you say, BARF!!!!!!!

"What the - - -? What's that smell?" I said, startled and stunned as I looked around hoping for anybody to give me a clue.

"HER NIGHTGOWN," He said rolling his eyes.

"And you told her to put that in the dirty clothes hamper?  Oh, no mister, that has to immediately go into the incinerator washing machine!"

And so it did, along with, you guessed it, all the sheets from her bed, pillows, quilt, the whole lot. 

I don't know what happened, or how that stank got all up in that gown. My guess is . . . who am I kidding . . . didn't I just say I don't know?  Especially since that very morning, when I went upstairs to wake the girls, I laid down in Soli's bed, and did not smell a thing.  That gown could not have been there that long, 'cause I change her sheets weekly-ish.  Oh well, no need to say I'm not perfect, I think you know that by now.

Today's lesson:  Bed Linens 101. 

How to Get Your Sheets Really Clean

Bed Linens are an interesting sort of animal.  They need to be treated with a certain amount of respect and care, as our bodies give them a lot of wear and tear.

1. Every night while asleep our bodies lose skin cells that may not be visible to our eye, but none the less they build up in our sheets. This makes it imperative to wash sheets in hot water, weekly. Water that is at least 120 degrees is most effective in removing dirt.
2. Do not wash heavily soiled items with lightly soiled items, as this can lead to dinginess.
3. Be sure to add enough detergent.  The detergent helps to suspend the dirt in the water.  If your items are really dirty, and you do not add enough detergent, the dirt will re-settle on the very items you were trying to clean.
4. If your sheets are really dirty, you can add extra cleaning power by adding a laundry booster like Oxi-Clean. It enhances stain and dirt removal.
5. A cup of vinegar added to laundry is an effective odor remover.
6. Be sure to use the correct water level and don't over crowd your items. Your sheets need room to move in the washer so that the agitator can get them fully clean.  Overcrowding your laundry will result in items that are less than clean.

Mary J. Blige - I Am

The lessons we learn in childhood are tough.

Disappointment may be one of the toughest.

Being disappointed in other people, well that's hard.  But, when we are disappointed with ourselves, sometimes, it's too much to bear.
___________________________________________________________________________

"You can do this Bella.  You're a game maker.  WHO CAN HIT THE BALL?" I said encouragingly.

"I can!  I always hit the ball!" Bella beamed.

"Alright then.  Go out there and do it!" I yelled as she picked up her bat, slid on her helmet and walked out of the dugout and onto the field.

Knots were threatening to cut off my circulation. I sat down in the stands next to Warwick, and he nodded his head in reassurance.

Bella stepped up to the plate, bat at the ready, and waited. The ball came fast; she took a swing, and missed.

That's okay. She'll get it this time. Send her good thoughts.  Happy energy. You can do this.

She lifted her bat up once again, eyes on the ball, elbows up.  The ball came and went, but still no contact.

"Something's off."  Warwick murmured. Vocalizing the words that I did not want to hear. She'll be okay.  She'll get this. Focus, Bella, focus.

Her gaze, zoned in on the pitcher. Her stance was perfect. Elbows up, eyes on the ball.  The ball rolled out of the pitchers hand and slowly glided toward Bella. She was ready. Even from where I sat, I could see her head tilt slightly as she measured its exact location and speed.

It's a little high. Not quite right.  But I could see the fierceness in her eyes. Her mind was made up.  This was the third pitch, and she was going to give it all she had.  She pulled her arms back, took a swing, and missed.

"Yoooouuuuuurrrrr out!"

The look on her face was crushing. Her eyes began to tighten, her lips started to sag downward, and all the blood was gone from her face. The walk back to the dugout was long and tough. This was the second time today that she struck out.  Only the third time ever in a game.  I told her she could do this.  She's going to think she let me down.

Her coaches walked her back to the bench, whispering to her, and patting her on the back the entire way. I know she wanted to cry, but she held it in, tried to move on, trying to make it until the end of the game. And she did.  She even seemed like she was having a good time. And when the game was over, she gave me a winning smile, and went to sit under the Oak tree for the post game huddle.

I stood across the field and watched her as she listened intently. I noticed a grimacing look on her face, immediate and pained. Yelps erupted from her mouth, and cries too loud to be consoled.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back. She had sat in an ant hill.
Warwick and I ran to her as fast as we could. I tugged and pulled on her socks and shoes, as Warwick washed away the ants with the water bottle.  The ants were washed away, but the hurt wasn't.  She was in pain, and it wasn't from ant bites.

As tears streamed down her face, with her eyes red and puffy she said, "Mommy, I didn't do what you said. I didn't hit the ball."

It was like the wind had been knocked out of me. A blow straight to the chest.

I immediately started blurting out I love you's, and you're the best kid ever stuff.  I needed her to know that she really was the greatest no matter what.  That nothing could ever make her less than a star. That no matter how fantastic she is, and no matter how hard she tries, sometimes, she will miss the ball.  That this game, this life, is not about winning, it's about always giving it our best and having a good time.  And knowing that when we give it our best, it is always enough.  Nobody, especially me, expects anything more than that.

She nodded at me, responded with some "mmm's" and "uh - huh's" before Warwick, whisked her up into his strong daddy arms, and carried her to the car.

I hope she 'got' what I was trying to say, what I really wanted to say. Don't be disappointed in yourself for trying your hardest.  It's always a win, when you love yourself enough to accept the things you can't change. Be proud of yourself, of your heart, and of your strength.  For everything that you are.  Love yourself all the way down to your toes.  And Daddy and I will love you always, and so will the Great - I AM. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOGmtnChKec

Container Garden Tips

I woke up this morning with my eyes swollen shut. Don't worry; they eventually opened (with a little coaxing). Once they did, they were all goopy and red. With bags that would make Louis Vuitton jealous. It feels like tiny little granules of synthetic sand have been lodged all up in my retinas.

Clearly, somebody or something has beaten the mess out of me. My eyes sting like hell and it doesn't look like they're gonna get better anytime soon.

Last week, my face was covered in spots. Tiny little red bumps danced around my nose, under my eyes and on my cheeks. These dots had tiny little feet, with tiny little toes that itched like hemorrhoids on a very, very, bad day. All of this makes my face extremely dry and scaly. Where smooth skin used to be, now I have wrinkles. Where moisture was once apparent, there is dryness to rival the Mohave Desert.

I don't want you to feel sorry for me. Though, I'm not opposed to the sympathy vote. I just feel that it's necessary to tell you these things to illustrate the depths to which I love spring.

Yesterday, I went on an Easter Egg Hunt with my family in a field of pollinating grass.

I didn't care. *scratches eyes*

Yesterday, I scoured through Home Improvement Stores and Plant Nursery's looking for the most perfect plants for my garden.

I didn't care. *eyes are now tearing from contact*

Today, I will plant petunias, run with begonias, and smell daisies.

I don't care. *nose is getting itchy*

Today, I will take my children outside to ride their bikes, play at the park, and cover the sidewalk in chalk. *achoo, achoo, achoo*

And tomorrow, I will lay the groundwork for a vegetable garden that will contend with the greatest gardens in history!

I don't care. *nose is running profusely*

So, bring on your ragweed, your grass, and your silly little oak pollen, I DON'T CARE! *throat is getting scratchy*

I LOVE SPRING!!! And nothing *throat is starting to close* I mean nothing *cough, cough* is going to keep me from enjoying it .*faints*

"It doesn't matter who you are, where you come from. The ability to triumph begins with you. Always. " Oprah Winfrey

Container Gardening 101:

When I get spring fever, all I want to do is garden in containers. I need a quick fix. I need something that will get me through the period of time that I must wait until my vegetables grow big enough to brag about. Depending on your climate, arrangements in containers can last from spring until fall, so it's worth the added preparation to ensure a happy environment. Here is a list of things that I always consider when gardening in containers.

1. COLOR - First and foremost, I am trying to invoke a feeling of well being with my containers, so the first thing I consider is color. Generally, I pick purples and blues for my patio and front porch, because when I see them it makes me feel calm and relaxed. I choose white for places that I want to attract attention, but in a subtle way. For windows, I pick the most vibrant of colors on the color wheel, like reds, hot pinks, and corrals. When I'm inside the house, and I look out my kitchen window, and I see lovely flowers in shades of pinks and reds, they whisper my name, calling me to come out and play.

2. PLACEMENT -Generally speaking, I want to get the biggest bang for my buck. So, I consider where my family will get the most enjoyment from our plants. One day, I'd love to have a garden full of containers along with a lush landscape, but I know that takes time. So, until then, I place plants in the areas of our landscape that we visit most often. Currently, we have two pots on the front porch, four hanging baskets outside the kitchen windows, and one large pot on the back patio.

3. PLANT GROWING HABIT - I have learned this step the hard way, and not without real grief. You can not grow a plant meant for the shade in the sun, and vice versa. You may absolutely love impatiens, with their bountiful color, and never ending flowers, but they will not thrive in the sun, in fact if they don't die, they'll look so bad you'll wish they had! Even if the tag says part shade, don't fool yourself into thinking you can make it work. You'll be happier if you choose plants that are well suited for your climate. For instance, this year, I went crazy with petunias because . .. . . .

A) I love them
B.) They do really well in the Texas heat
C.) They can survive off of less water than many plants that I've found

D.) They are generally very inexpensive. The ones pictured in this post where purchased from Lowes for $5 for a 10" pot.

When shopping for plants, it is a good idea to call the nursery ahead of time and find out which days they get their shipments in. That way, you're sure to get the pick of the lot!

4. GROUPINGS - You don't have to be like me and stick to single groupings of plants in containers. It's really beautiful to combine differnt colors, textures, foliage, and flowers. That way, even when the flowers fade, the container will still be beautiful.

5. SOIL - This step is pretty key. The soil that you use to prepare your containers is what the plants will be growing in for the next 5 or so months, maybe longer. Not only will it nourish them, it will provide them with enough water to keep them hydrated during the hot summer months. There is a formula of the things you can use to make the perfect batch of potting soil, but honestly I don't have the patience for it. I just use Miracle Grow Potting Soil. I have used other brands before, and they do moderately well. But, in my experience, my plants grow faster and healthier with Miracle Grow.

6. Fertilizing and Maintenance - Water regularly. When you put your fingers into the soil it should be damp. If it's dry you need to water. I won't even pretend to be a horticulturist. Everything I know, I know because of my own experience. . . .and ummmm. . . .because my mom told me. But, I will say that I have had hanging baskets and containers that have lasted from March until November with just regular watering and fertilizing. Generally, in the summer I water everyday, if it's hot twice a day. I fertilize every 2-4 weeks with a watered in fertilizer, by. . . .you guessed it Miracle Gro. I promise; they are not paying me. . . . . .but should be!

Anyway, go stick some flowers in a pot today. What's the worst that could happen? They die, and then you can buy some more! Have fun gardening.

Sushi Burrito

"I HAVE NEVER worn jeans and a dressy blouse to church on Easter!" I scream-whispered to my eldest daughter Shelbi, in the Macy's girl's department dressing room.

"Yes you have.  You always do!" she snapped back in quick retort.

"Have you lost your mind?  Speaking to me that way. And you WILL try on that dress! And you WILL wear a dress on Easter Sunday!  And I DON'T CARE IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!!! You've lost your privileges to choose! If I like it, I'm getting it. AND I AM NOT A LIAR! I HAVE NEVER WORN JEANS AND A DRESSY BLOUSE TO CHURCH ON EASTER!" I spat out in a rage of delirium.  I stared at her just daring her to say. one. more. thing.

And she did.

"but you always do. . . . ." was the phrase she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough to assert her defiance.

Without another word, I stomped out of the fitting room, cursing every customer who dared to look me in the eye. Where is your father, where is your father? So completely ungrateful.  After waking up with her tired little butt this morning just to take her shopping for clothes, she acts like this.  And to call me a liar to my face.

"Oh, there you are." I said upon finding my husband in the boys department. Yet we have no boys, so who knows why he was even over there. Probably running away from me.

"Look Warwick, I don't even know what to tell you.  Your daughter has lost her damn mind, and ummmm, I'm through with her, so there you go! Good luck! I'm not dealing with her anymore!" I said as I noticed he was missing two of my other 3 children.

"Where's Bella and Soledad?" I said, getting more agitated by the minute.

"Ummm, they had to go to the bathroom, but I couldn't go in 'cause I have Phoebe. So they went in by themselves."

"Oh, okay. . . .  ummm who are those strange ladies walking out of the bathroom with my children?"

"Them? Yeh, well Soledad was having some issues or something, so those nice ladies offered to go in and help. So, I guess they walked them out."

S.E.R.I.O.U.S.L.Y? What kind of crazy mother am I? Losing my mind, yelling at my kids in department stores, letting random ladies escort my children to the bathroom, I seriously need an intervention.

I could hear Shelbi creeping up behind me holding the dresses in her arms, acting as if she had no idea why I was so mad.

"Look missy.  Do you realize that Easter is quite possibly the most sacred day of the year? Don't answer. Jesus WAS CRUCIFIED, was murdered, carried a hellified cross for miles and miles, forced to wear a crown of thorns, and you don't want to wear a dress because you don't like frilly?  What if Jesus had said, he doesn't like thorny, and he doesn't like murdery, and he really doesn't feel like dying for your sins? Hmmmmmm. Don't answer.  I'll tell you what; you'd be going straight down there, 'cause you've done a boat load of sinnin' TODAY!!!!"

And with that, I turned my back, grabbed my two middle children and dragged them out of the store to the car, with Warwick, Phoebe, and Shelbi  following behind.  I could hear faint whispers between Warwick and Shelbi as they walked, but no one dared to say a word to me. 

For the rest of the day, everyone was on there very best behavior afraid that I might crack at any moment. We drove to Target, picked Shelbi out a less expensive dress, without complaint, went home and decompressed.

The next day, Shelbi wanted to know if I was going to take her shopping for shoes. I guess she wasn't that traumatized. Here we go again.

I Need a DE-Stressor. Seaweed is a known stress reliever, among other things.  It provides our bodies with essential vitamins and minerals like magnesium, riboflavin, pantothenic acid and two B vitamins important for helping our bodies produce energy.  This is a great lunch, dinner, or snack.  It tastes great and will make you feel even better. 

To learn more about the health benefits of seaweed, check out this article.
http://www.worldshealthiestfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=135

Sushi Burritos
Ingredients:
8 x 7" Seaweed sheets (found in the Asian isle of your supermarket)
Brown Rice, cooked
These are some of my favorite fillings:
lunch meat
cilantro
carrot
tomato
soy sauce
tuna
salmon
pesto

Directions:
1. Lay the seaweed sheet down on a flat surface.
2. Begin layering your burrito by first adding rice, followed by your choice of ingredients.  For this burrito, I chose lunch meat, cilantro, carrot, and tomato. Drizzle with soy sauce.

3. First, fold the bottom ends up, then the sides.

How To Boil An Egg

No, I don't think you're stupid.

It's not like I said, "Do you know how to boil water?".  I know you know how to boil water. 

Boiling eggs on the other hand, not so sure.  Maybe, you're just not aware that boiled eggs are not supposed to be rubbery with greenish gray yolks. Shocked? Yeh, I knew you would be.

A perfectly boiled egg should have a white that is delicate, yet firm.  The yolk should be marigold, with a silky smooth texture.  NOT TALCUM LIKE, MAKING YOU BEG FOR WATER.

So here's the dealy.  The Easter Bunny is coming to town, and if you don't get your act together soon, he's not going to be pleased.  I doubt he'll take it out on your children, but I'm just sayin'. . . . . . . .

If you care about humanity as a whole, the sanctity of food, and all that is good and right and just, then you'll follow this process to achieve a perfectly boiled egg. It's simple, but should be followed exactly, lest your children be placed on the naughty list. . . .or is that Christmas . . . .no matter, here's what to do.

****Note: Use a pot or pan for which you have a tight fitting lid.

1. Place eggs in a pot or pan in a single layer.  Cover the eggs with 1-2 inches of cold water.
2. Over medium heat, bring the water to boil. Just stay in the kitchen. It won't take long for the water to boil, and if you walk away and forget. . .well . . .your eggs might be boiling away, along with your dreams of a perfectly boiled egg.
3. Once the water has reached its boiling point, promptly remove from the heat.
4. Cover and let sit for 10 minutes. Not a minute sooner or a minute later.  Set a timer if you can not be trusted!
5. Remove eggs from pan and place in cold water to stop the cooking.
6. Once the eggs have cooled you can peel 'em, eat 'em or refrigerate for later!

Happy Easter!!!!!!!