Don't Call the Fire Dept. - It's Just Breakfast

I am not by any means the most stellar cook but I don't feel like I'm a candidate for the show Worst Cooks in America either. 

The first meal I cooked for my now husband, around 16 years ago, was dreadfully awful and he now considers me pretty good. I mean it was plain, dry chicken that tasted like cardboard, along with dry stuffing, and under cooked brownies with hard burned edges. I couldn't have made it worse if I tried. It was a mess, but he ate it as if it was the best meal he'd ever had. He really can be sweet, but lets not tell him I said that. So for those next years I put in a lot of effort to be good, or at least better. Although my kids would still prefer to eat frozen chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese from a box. 

One of my husband's favorite meals is breakfast and one of the hardest parts for me about making breakfast is the timing - to get the over-easy eggs done about 10 seconds after the toast pops so
you have a small window to spread the butter so it melts evenly. Having everything timed perfectly while the dog is underfoot and the kids are wanting entirely different things...Fruit Loops for Kyle, buttered muffins for Morgan, and Lane still isn't sure what he wants but wants to see what looks best. 

Anyway, our toaster we've had from most of this 16 years, it works so there is no need for a newer one. Actually we even have an extra but I just don't use it. There is just one small issue with the current one, when you use it twice in a row, it smokes and then sets off the smoke detectors. This has happened in several houses, but I'm pretty sure the kids and Matt don't know the one use of the toaster rule. But each time I do it, I have this small hope that it will change, it won't, but it doesn't stop me for trying it again and again and setting off the shrill sound over and over. 

The running joke is that when I inevitably set it off, everyone knows that breakfast is ready. Just the other morning, the screeching sounded and Matt came down the steps laughing, saying I didn't need to alert him breakfast was done, he was on his way. At the table Matt mentioned maybe we should get a new toaster, I told him we have an extra, and Lane interjected and said no, no, no we can't use a new one because the smoke detector is his alarm during the summer. 

Matt started laughing and teasing me about how sad that statement truly was. I mean maybe I could be on my own show, No Need To Call The Fire Dept. Has kind of a nice ring to it, doesn't it?!

Peanut Butter Jelly

Our daughter has always been very, very specific about her Peanut Butter Jelly. Traditionally, I am the one to have always made the sandwich and I like triangles versus squares. But...since she was old enough to say what she wanted for lunch, she has been very demanding about her Peanut Butter Jelly being cut into squares. If you've ever raised a toddler, then you know, squares it is! 

I cut sandwiches in a diagonal, even if it's only half a sandwich, the one piece of bread gets cuts diagonally and then placed on top of the other. Morgan, is fine with this as long as it's turkey, salami, or a grilled cheese but not a Peanut Butter Jelly. And there isn't an 'and' involved in that sandwich, not a PB&J, not a Peanut Butter AND Jelly, it's just Peanut Butter Jelly. All the time, every time she says it.

When she was about 3 years old, her dad decided to make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He made it with two full slices and didn't cut off the crust. Can you imagine?! She absolutely refused to eat it because it was not Peanut Butter Jelly. My husband was then locked into an argument with a toddler convinced it wasn't the right thing. After numerous times of trying to convince her that he made her what she wanted, he then asked how mommy makes it. She promptly got up and took half of the sandwich off the plate. Bonus points for the husband that cut straight down the middle. Then she pointed to the crust and made a face, he assumed correctly that mommy cuts off the crust. He placed the plate in front of her and she said, "still not like mommy's." He asked her why and she said it wasn't two pieces. He said you took the other off the plate she said no it's only this, but two pieces. He asked her if he could cut it. Toddlers are something! When he successfully cut it into two pieces, she happily squealed, "NOW, that's Peanut Butter Jelly!"

Skip ahead 4 years...

Yesterday, my mom was at the house and made her lunch. When I got home and my mom left, I asked both her and Kyle what they had for lunch.

Morgan mentioned that Nana made her a sandwich but did it wrong. I knew...I knew right then what kind of sandwich she asked for. I said well how did Nana make your Peanut Butter Jelly. 

Morgan: "Well first she cut the bread wrong, I told her you only use one piece, but she cut it wrong." (My mom cut into a diagonal) "Then she put too much peanut butter on and I kept looking at her, and I tried to look at her nice but I didn't know why she was doing it wrong. I figured I'd have to eat it because I didn't want to waste the bread but it was gross. Mom, she put the jelly on the same side she put the peanut butter, then just put the bread on top. She didn't even put enough jelly on it!" A breath and then, "I mean who puts the jelly on top of the peanut butter on one side?"

Okay, so because I know how ridiculous this all is, I did egg it on...with comments like "who does that?" and "why would she think that's right?" and finally ended with "I just don't know why people can't make a Peanut Butter Jelly right!"

Morgan then responded that even her dad can't do it right. She was so disgusted that it was just hilarious. 

Last night after she went to sleep, I couldn't wait to tell Matt all about this...because he very clearly remembers the toddler, "NOW that's Peanut Butter Jelly!" 

As I'm holding my stomach from laughing so hard, I mentioned to Matt, oh my can you imagine her poor husband?! 

Matt turned dead around and said, "That's me...I'm the husband. She's you, and I'm the poor husband! I don't know what you are talking about...her poor husband. You two are the same, she's you and this is the stuff you do. I am that guy."

He's just upset that I'm the only one that can make her sandwich the 'right' way!

Living Poop

Before winter Matt and I were outside talking and we noticed that Barkley, our then 6 month old puppy, was in the back yard trying to play with something that was moving. He would put his snout down to the ground and whip his head back up while he jumped his front paws around. Matt and I both guessed it was a frog because it's the way he acted days before with a frog in the driveway. Rearing his head back when the frog jumped away, or "at him" as he thought to play. Judging by the continued pawing and jumping Matt told Kyle to go save the frog from Barkley's torturing. 

Kyle, who likes the frogs in the yard, trudged through the yard to try to get the frog and not upset Barkley, who might turn and jump on him and place him on the ground for taking 'his toy!' Kyle began looking all around but acting like he couldn't see the frog. Matt and I both said, "oh Kyle just get it, it's a frog, it's right there!" He hollered back up, that he didn't see a frog! At this point, I'm thinking, oh great, now he doesn't want to touch frogs. I wonder what his older brother said that caused this. Matt and I are pointing to the area in the yard that the dog is jumping around, where he can see the movement in the grass and Kyle was still so adamant that he couldn't see a frog. 

All at once we were all looking at the same spot and it moved, Kyle yelled that it's not a frog! Matt asked him what it was if not a frog? Then Matt turns to me and he was asking me as much as himself "Is it a snake? It's probably a tiny snake. Go see if it's a snake." I started to walk towards Kyle and Matt told me to get the shovel, I laughed out loud. I may be walking to see what it is, but I am certainly not touching it, killing it, moving it; I'm just looking. At this point Kyle was walking back up to us and Matt asked him again, "well...what is it?"

Kyle looked right back at him and with all the seriousness in the world says,

    "I'll tell you what it is, I'll tell you...It's living poop! It's not a frog, it's not a snake, it's living poop!"

I busted out laughing, like uncontrollably laughing. Kyle did not think it was funny and looked at me like I was out of my mind for laughing about this. I laughed so hard my face hurt and I had tears in my eyes because he was so serious and confident that he discovered what it was. 

Matt's like what is he talking about, laughing at me because while it was funny to him too, my bent over holding my belly while Kyle looked perturbed was quite the scene. I mean, Kyle was so positive. 

Matt grabbed the shovel and we both walked/jogged to discover what 'living poop' looked like. 

For all of you that don't know what 'living poop' looks like...well...it looks like a ground mole!

I guess that's just what a day living in the country can look like. 

Competitive

I am most certainly not an 'everyone gets an award (participation) trophy;' more of an 'if you want it, then you earn it' person. So... when I play games with the kids, I am not a mom that just lets you win. I do not tease or become a sore winner, but you do not cry if you lose, you just try harder. But I have been known to allow my 5-year-old some help during a game, and maybe select the raised card in his hand during Old Maid.

When I was young, I remember now and then playing games with my mom and dad and receiving the game of Life. I had finally whined enough for my parents to play, because Life is a longer game that parents tend to save for another time, and unfortunately my dad won. He jumped around upon winning, dancing and yelling, "you lose at Life! I am the CHAMPION! I win Life!" Of course, he was teasing.

While I don't act quite like that, I still am competitive and it's hard for me to lose, I don't like it. I really don't like it, and yes maybe my dad's behavior aided in my competitiveness. 

This Christmas my son Lane (12 years old) received Chinese Checkers, and upon him opening his gift, I remembered being a kid and playing with my great-grandma multiple times a day. Along with those fond memories I was looking forward to playing with my son. However, my son was not as excited and eventually mentioned he didn't want to play. After about two weeks with an unopened box, my husband said he would play but didn't quite remember the rules, so he'd review the directions. We set up the board while Morgan (age 7) and Kyle (age 5) watched and whined they wanted to play. Anytime my husband moved a marble, the kids automatically assumed he was winning, and being that he wasn't, he conveniently didn't correct them except for one small whisper that mom was doing better. 

During the game, Matt mentioned several times that if he practiced and started to strategize better, he'd crush me. Did I mention that I haven't played since I've been a kid? Can you see how silly my competitiveness can become?

I did win, as you can tell, and actually smoked my husband, as he finished by moving all his marbles into the star section and claiming to the two little ones that it was a tie.

Which was fine, until...

...a day later when we were all eating dinner and Lane brought up the game. He asked me if I finally found someone that would play. Morgan informed him that dad played mom. My husband hurried to add that he "smoked mom but it's okay because she didn't stand a chance!" Lane started laughing and I didn't correct Matt because I knew he'd then say I couldn't just let it go, I'd have to let the kids know I won. Then I'd feel like it's just a game and not that big of a deal if the kids know who really won. As Matt continued to tease me about how I lost and need to try harder, the little ones chimed in by saying, "yeah dad put all his marbles in really fast!" Lane of course loved it and continued to laugh about mom losing.

While I wanted to say, "your dad put those marbles in really fast because the game was over, and mom won, " I knew I couldn't say a thing without Matt then really teasing me about how competitive I can be. 

But you know what, "I did win!" 

Phew, at least I feel a little better :)

Dinner Table

Our family still sits down at the dinner table almost every single night to eat. Nothing formal, we use a lot of throw away plates, but we try to all sit as a family each night. Matt does when he’s home and not on a crazy shift. Typically we talk a lot about the kids school, who said what, who they talked to or played with, who is in what grade, etc. They attend a small school and know most if not all of the kids, so my husband and I have gotten to ‘know’ the kids as much as we can through Lane and Morgan.

The other night Morgan casually mentioned that there are several kids in her school that are neutered. Yep, everyone stopped eating and just looked at each other to make sure we all heard the same word, neutered, and that Morgan said it. Kyle didn’t care or know what it meant so he resumed with his dinner. The rest of us weren’t about to let this go! I asked Morgan to repeat what she said. 

“Yeah a couple kids in my school are neutered.”

Lane, 12 years old, looks at me and knowing what this is, mainly because we just had our dog neutered a couple months ago, starts to laugh and is ready to lose it. They both attend the same school. 

Matt mentions that it can’t be what she means to say. And I told her that no one in the school is neutered and she couldn’t possibly know any of this. 

She insisted that kids are neutered. Because she kept saying it, of course, it became funnier! Matt asked her where she even heard the word, to which she promptly responded with, “my teachers say it!” Lane is now rolling with laughter.

I asked her to name the kids she thinks are neutered. When she named the few she knew, Lane yells, “Morgan they are tutored! Not neutered, TUTORED!”

And the classic Morgan response, “yeah, well, same thing!”