Monday, March 30, 2009
Potty Training...Training
We've begun potty training...kinda.
It's called "progressive training"...we haven't really gotten to actual elimination into the potty, but we have been introducing Noah to the potty and having him sit on it every now and then.
Unfortunately, Dave and I need 'Potty Training Training'. It's a lot of work trying to remember to get Noah on the potty 3 times a day, one minute at a time, 7 days a week. I should make a sticker reward chart for ourselves for remembering to potty train.
As you can see, we got Noah on the potty once last week. It's unfortunate that Noah must pay for our sins. He doesn't get his buggy rides because he doesn't get the opportunity to earn the stickers to get him his ride. Bum deal!
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Please & Thank You.
Noah has begun to learn his words. Slowly but surely we are getting Noah to use words!!!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The World According to Grace...back, before when, before Dave, before kids...
I was checking an old blog account and came upon this. Too funny. Thought I would share a little of the old Grace with some of you, back before when...before marriage, before kids...before stretchy-waist capris...
***
Upgrade to a better life.
March 13th, 2006 by gracie-yuI was eating a sandwich at Subway today. A woman came in with her three children and I watched the group as they made their way down the sandwich assembly line from "What kind of bread would you like?" all the way down to "Would you like salt and pepper and oil and vinegar on your sandwich?"
It was painful watching the mother give orders for each of her finicky children. "She wants white bread with nothing but ham and cheese…oh, I’m sorry. She wants a little mustard on that…Just a little." The little girl was pouting because Mommy had forgotten about the little bit of mustard. The other orders were a bit more involved so I’ll spare you the details. But watching this woman and her children made marriage and parenthood look so–unappetizing. I imagined being in her shoes, and my goodness, even the momentary imaginary expedition into the private lives of others was painful, even in brevity.
How unhappy and dissatisfying life must be when your day consists of ugly stretch waist capris and three whiny kids who pout because you forgot to mention the mustard. I went through the rest of the woman’s day and imagined going home to a messy house and tired grouchy husband, foodstained upholstery and mismatched bed linen, plastic diningware and vinyl placemats. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.
But then again…why would, why should my life resemble rubberband waist lady’s life? Perhaps my children will be interesting and delightful with undiscriminating palates and engage me with cheerful banter about art and philosophy. And it just may be that my husband won’t be tired grouch, but an energetic and electrifying personality with an intellect to match.
I think we often choose (or reject) certain paths in life based on the models of others. And sometimes, we model our lives after others because it is easier to immitate and mimick, like chimpanzees, rather than take the road less traveled. We’ve seen so many disfunctional and unhealthy relationships, they have become the norm. Mediocrity has become the reference point for the majority and the baseline for measuring fulfillment and satisfaction. Very poor departure points in the journey of life, I think.
I’d like to think, I HOPE that if and when I do get married and have children, I won’t be the object of pity and suffering to the outside observer.
Don’t wear stretchy-waist anything.
Teach your children to place their own orders (Obviously I mean this within reason. But if they are old enough to sass you, I’m confident that they’re old enough to ask for a ham-and-cheese-easy-on-the-mustard).
Sit down and define what you want to extract from life. According to YOU, not anyone else because most likely one person’s prescription to a satisfying life is not going to be yours. And DO IT.
I suppose, one could say that my rant is premature and I should refrain from criticism until I myself have given the domesticated life a whirl, however, I think there is no harm in learning from the mistakes of others. Watch, observe, criticize, and judge (privately, of course) so that your life is an upgraded version rather than a sloppy prototype.
The Plague.
First it was David.
Then it took Noah.
Now Emma's got it.
I -- like the last of the Mohicans -- stand alone as the one healthy uninfected individual in our home. But not for long. I do feel a slight tingling in the back of my throat.
David has been seeking out soup all week long. But because Noah is sick, I haven't been cooking; too busy tending to him. Last night David ate Cream of Mushroom soup and I had Taco Bell. Tonight David picked up some soup from Baja Fresh (which strangely smelled like the Korean Yuk Hae Jang soup) and I had MacDonalds. It is amazing how marriage suddenly causes you to feel so deeply responsible for your man. Especially when it comes to the food filling his stomach. I cannot even begin to express how guilty I felt watching David eat Cream of Mushroom soup. It just seemed so sad and wrong. There he sat with a bowl of canned soup, the glare of the computer screen reflecting off his eyeglasses. He said it was good...and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the stuff. He has to because he was the one that bought a whole box of it from Costco one day and every time I open my pantry I am tortured to find ways to use it. But once you've had a taste of homemade cream of mushroom soup...it's almost torture to have to eat the canned stuff.
I digress.
There comes a time when enough is enough. I felt badly for David to say the least. Enough is enough and it is time that I get some wholesome cooking into that man's stomach.
So after David and the kids (it still sounds weird to me to say this; 'the kids'. It's hard to believe that I am actually a mother of two) went to bed I began to make chicken soup...from scratch. You will never ever catch me eating chicken soup outside of the home or from a can. It's so easy to make and so much tastier when homemade, I vile (I don't care if that is improper use of an adjective...I find it rather effective as a verb) the thought of having it otherwise.
Given that it is flu season...I'm sharing my recipe with you, in the hopes that you will find reprieve from winter flu blues with a bowl of this tasty chicken soup.
For the most part I am a purist/minimalist when it comes to cooking. I prefer recipes that use the fewest ingredients necessary because it keeps the dish tasting clean, simple and fresh. Hence my love for simple vinagrettes and sorbets.
But I have a cupboard full of spices that I need to use and, unfortunately, tonight I thought I might make some good use of them and add 'layers of flavor' to the soup. Let me save you the misfortune of messing up a good batch of chicken soup. Less is more. I added bay leaves, rosemary, parsley and thyme to the soup and though it tastes good with the additions, it adds unecessary busyness to the soup. So here's the recipe sans the frills.
Guilty Wife Chicken Soup
2 Cornish Game Hens
5 cloves of garlic
2 Carrots
1 medium sized onion
3 stalks of celery
1 large potato
1/2 c Orzo Pasta
French Sea Salt
Fresh Ground Pepper
Prep Work
Clean and rinse chickens.
Chop carrots, onion, celery and potatos into desired size. I like them in 1 centimeter cubes, the uniform size lends a more visually pleasing end product.
Phase 1
Place chickens & garlic in a large pot and fill with cold water. Bring to a roiling boil and turn down to a simmer. Skim the fat and oil as they surface (45 mins). Remove the chickens to a separate dish and strain the stock to remove the fatty funk and gunk from the poultry. I suppose you don't have to do this if you like dirty soup water, but I like having clean clear soup stock. It's purely aesthetic and only absolutely necessary for individuals with a minor psychosis. Dump the garlic if so desired.
Phase 2
Return the strained soup stock into the pot (I normally use a fresh pot or clean the pot to make sure that the funky chicken gunk is completely erradicated) and throw in the chicken, chopped veggies and orzo pasta. Bring to a boil and turn down to a simmer until the veggies and pasta are tender.
Veggies: I did add green beans to my soup because I had them in the fridge. Feel free to add whatever veggies that rock your world.
Phase 3
Salt and pepper to taste.
Now to address the French Sea Salt. I am not trying to be pompous or pretentious. Yes, it does make a difference. As a rule, never use table salt in your cooking. It will ruin the taste of your food. Kosher should be the standard and use French Sea Salt when salt is the dominant and primary ingredient of flavorization.
Easy. Simple. Wholesome. Homemade. And all for around $10 bucks.
If you're too lazy to skim and strain, you can just dump all of the ingredients into a pot all at once and boil until chicken is cooked and veggies are tender. Then eat and enjoy with fatty chicken scum and all.
Then it took Noah.
Now Emma's got it.
I -- like the last of the Mohicans -- stand alone as the one healthy uninfected individual in our home. But not for long. I do feel a slight tingling in the back of my throat.
David has been seeking out soup all week long. But because Noah is sick, I haven't been cooking; too busy tending to him. Last night David ate Cream of Mushroom soup and I had Taco Bell. Tonight David picked up some soup from Baja Fresh (which strangely smelled like the Korean Yuk Hae Jang soup) and I had MacDonalds. It is amazing how marriage suddenly causes you to feel so deeply responsible for your man. Especially when it comes to the food filling his stomach. I cannot even begin to express how guilty I felt watching David eat Cream of Mushroom soup. It just seemed so sad and wrong. There he sat with a bowl of canned soup, the glare of the computer screen reflecting off his eyeglasses. He said it was good...and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the stuff. He has to because he was the one that bought a whole box of it from Costco one day and every time I open my pantry I am tortured to find ways to use it. But once you've had a taste of homemade cream of mushroom soup...it's almost torture to have to eat the canned stuff.
I digress.
There comes a time when enough is enough. I felt badly for David to say the least. Enough is enough and it is time that I get some wholesome cooking into that man's stomach.
So after David and the kids (it still sounds weird to me to say this; 'the kids'. It's hard to believe that I am actually a mother of two) went to bed I began to make chicken soup...from scratch. You will never ever catch me eating chicken soup outside of the home or from a can. It's so easy to make and so much tastier when homemade, I vile (I don't care if that is improper use of an adjective...I find it rather effective as a verb) the thought of having it otherwise.
Given that it is flu season...I'm sharing my recipe with you, in the hopes that you will find reprieve from winter flu blues with a bowl of this tasty chicken soup.
For the most part I am a purist/minimalist when it comes to cooking. I prefer recipes that use the fewest ingredients necessary because it keeps the dish tasting clean, simple and fresh. Hence my love for simple vinagrettes and sorbets.
But I have a cupboard full of spices that I need to use and, unfortunately, tonight I thought I might make some good use of them and add 'layers of flavor' to the soup. Let me save you the misfortune of messing up a good batch of chicken soup. Less is more. I added bay leaves, rosemary, parsley and thyme to the soup and though it tastes good with the additions, it adds unecessary busyness to the soup. So here's the recipe sans the frills.
Guilty Wife Chicken Soup
2 Cornish Game Hens
5 cloves of garlic
2 Carrots
1 medium sized onion
3 stalks of celery
1 large potato
1/2 c Orzo Pasta
French Sea Salt
Fresh Ground Pepper
Prep Work
Clean and rinse chickens.
Chop carrots, onion, celery and potatos into desired size. I like them in 1 centimeter cubes, the uniform size lends a more visually pleasing end product.
Phase 1
Place chickens & garlic in a large pot and fill with cold water. Bring to a roiling boil and turn down to a simmer. Skim the fat and oil as they surface (45 mins). Remove the chickens to a separate dish and strain the stock to remove the fatty funk and gunk from the poultry. I suppose you don't have to do this if you like dirty soup water, but I like having clean clear soup stock. It's purely aesthetic and only absolutely necessary for individuals with a minor psychosis. Dump the garlic if so desired.
Phase 2
Return the strained soup stock into the pot (I normally use a fresh pot or clean the pot to make sure that the funky chicken gunk is completely erradicated) and throw in the chicken, chopped veggies and orzo pasta. Bring to a boil and turn down to a simmer until the veggies and pasta are tender.
Veggies: I did add green beans to my soup because I had them in the fridge. Feel free to add whatever veggies that rock your world.
Phase 3
Salt and pepper to taste.
Now to address the French Sea Salt. I am not trying to be pompous or pretentious. Yes, it does make a difference. As a rule, never use table salt in your cooking. It will ruin the taste of your food. Kosher should be the standard and use French Sea Salt when salt is the dominant and primary ingredient of flavorization.
Easy. Simple. Wholesome. Homemade. And all for around $10 bucks.
If you're too lazy to skim and strain, you can just dump all of the ingredients into a pot all at once and boil until chicken is cooked and veggies are tender. Then eat and enjoy with fatty chicken scum and all.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
TV Makeover...
A few days ago I looked in the mirror.
I didn't like what I saw. Having babies and being married has aged me by ten years.
(No offense, David.)
So I told David I wanted him to nominate me for one of those TV makeover shows. You know, TLC's 'Ten Years Younger' or 'How Not to Dress'.
You know what he said?
"Why? Those shows only change your clothes. Those shows are all about how you dress."
Now, YOU tell me how I'm supposed to interpret that?
Did David mean that those shows only address wardrobe and, *clearly*, I'm in dire need of a little bit more help than a A-line skirt and tailored jacket.
While I'm thinking intervention. He seems to be thinking rehab--more along the lines of 'Nip Tuck 90210' or 'Jerry Springer'.
I let it go because as a man, he obviously can't help saying all the wrong things.
So today, when I was at the cosmetics department at Nordstrom's I decided I would get a makeover. I had to throw all my eye makeup out a couple days ago because something I was wearing was irritating my eyes. I went in hopeful and optimistic. These people are professionals. They are trained to make you look glam-fab...RIGHT?
I scanned the department store floor and headed straight for the M.A.C. counter. One look at the girls working there and I knew that they had what I needed. The girls at the M.A.C. counters always look like the line up at a nightclub entrance. But today, as I was walking by the mirrored columns of the department store I realized that I needed heavy artillery. The dark circles under my eye were going to need some serious heavy-weight coverage. Looking at the made up faces of the girls working M.A.C. they had coverage and then some more.
I got assigned a makeup artist...and sat there holding the hand mirror watching as she transformed me from a tired worn out mother into a scary black-and-blue-eyed Frankenstein's bride look alike. I will never ever go back to the M.A.C. counter for a makeover ever ever again. I walked out of there looking half man...like a transvestite made up for Mardi Gras.
It was a sad day.
I didn't like what I saw. Having babies and being married has aged me by ten years.
(No offense, David.)
So I told David I wanted him to nominate me for one of those TV makeover shows. You know, TLC's 'Ten Years Younger' or 'How Not to Dress'.
You know what he said?
"Why? Those shows only change your clothes. Those shows are all about how you dress."
Now, YOU tell me how I'm supposed to interpret that?
Did David mean that those shows only address wardrobe and, *clearly*, I'm in dire need of a little bit more help than a A-line skirt and tailored jacket.
While I'm thinking intervention. He seems to be thinking rehab--more along the lines of 'Nip Tuck 90210' or 'Jerry Springer'.
I let it go because as a man, he obviously can't help saying all the wrong things.
So today, when I was at the cosmetics department at Nordstrom's I decided I would get a makeover. I had to throw all my eye makeup out a couple days ago because something I was wearing was irritating my eyes. I went in hopeful and optimistic. These people are professionals. They are trained to make you look glam-fab...RIGHT?
I scanned the department store floor and headed straight for the M.A.C. counter. One look at the girls working there and I knew that they had what I needed. The girls at the M.A.C. counters always look like the line up at a nightclub entrance. But today, as I was walking by the mirrored columns of the department store I realized that I needed heavy artillery. The dark circles under my eye were going to need some serious heavy-weight coverage. Looking at the made up faces of the girls working M.A.C. they had coverage and then some more.
I got assigned a makeup artist...and sat there holding the hand mirror watching as she transformed me from a tired worn out mother into a scary black-and-blue-eyed Frankenstein's bride look alike. I will never ever go back to the M.A.C. counter for a makeover ever ever again. I walked out of there looking half man...like a transvestite made up for Mardi Gras.
It was a sad day.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Boys Only.
CORRECTION: David did not come in last. Joe did. David was second to last.
***
It was a small gesture. Something to commemorate and memorialize the man David Lee was before the arrival of our second child and the end of life as he knew it.
Last month, I planned a small outing for Dave and couple of his buddies. The day started out with a gentleman's shave at St. Moritz in SF. Some of you may be wondering what that is. It's an old fashion razor shave. You know, the kind you see in mobster movies. Dave said that it was 'okay', not something he would probably ever do again. I had hoped that it would be a more luxurious experience but it sounded like it was just an 'okay' experience. He said it was 'interesting' but Dave uses that word to describe an entire spectrum of persons, places and things that include but are not limited to the fantastic, wonderful, amazing, bizarre, grotesque, disappointing, hideous, breathtaking, unremarkable...be wary when Dave calls anything interesting. When I first met him, I took his use of 'interesting' at face value and assumed that he literally meant it. That it WAS interesting. But, later I found that it meant nothing but...what it really was was a tactic to avoid speaking the terrible and ugly truth. So, the shave was 'interesting'.
Then off to lunch at Steelhead Brewery. From what I was told there was a lot of talk about the life altering experience of having a second child. Sue, so candidly said: "It will rock your world". She also told me that marital satisfaction is at an all time low when a second child is introduced into a marriage. "So, if you feel like you don't like David, it's not really him..."
If Sue said that, I can only imagine what the boys said over lunch.
After lunch, it was off to the tracks and the guys went to Go Kart Racer. David came home later that day and asked me to guess who won first place. I said, Paul. He looked at me surprised: "How did you know?".
I've seen Paul drive.
There was additional commentary about making the turns and times and records and such, but I won't bore you with such nonsense. As long as they had a good time...my job was done.
I suppose it's only fair that I mention that Joe had the fastest track time, but he came in last because he spun out. Guess he got a little over-impassioned and NASCAR kinda took over. David came in last, but it was because 1) he was trying to follow the rules and not bump into people, 2) he was the biggest guy on the track and the extra weight added to the time lag...3) [insert more lame excuses].
My favorite part? Loved the outfits.
Last month, I planned a small outing for Dave and couple of his buddies. The day started out with a gentleman's shave at St. Moritz in SF. Some of you may be wondering what that is. It's an old fashion razor shave. You know, the kind you see in mobster movies. Dave said that it was 'okay', not something he would probably ever do again. I had hoped that it would be a more luxurious experience but it sounded like it was just an 'okay' experience. He said it was 'interesting' but Dave uses that word to describe an entire spectrum of persons, places and things that include but are not limited to the fantastic, wonderful, amazing, bizarre, grotesque, disappointing, hideous, breathtaking, unremarkable...be wary when Dave calls anything interesting. When I first met him, I took his use of 'interesting' at face value and assumed that he literally meant it. That it WAS interesting. But, later I found that it meant nothing but...what it really was was a tactic to avoid speaking the terrible and ugly truth. So, the shave was 'interesting'.
Then off to lunch at Steelhead Brewery. From what I was told there was a lot of talk about the life altering experience of having a second child. Sue, so candidly said: "It will rock your world". She also told me that marital satisfaction is at an all time low when a second child is introduced into a marriage. "So, if you feel like you don't like David, it's not really him..."
If Sue said that, I can only imagine what the boys said over lunch.
After lunch, it was off to the tracks and the guys went to Go Kart Racer. David came home later that day and asked me to guess who won first place. I said, Paul. He looked at me surprised: "How did you know?".
I've seen Paul drive.
There was additional commentary about making the turns and times and records and such, but I won't bore you with such nonsense. As long as they had a good time...my job was done.
I suppose it's only fair that I mention that Joe had the fastest track time, but he came in last because he spun out. Guess he got a little over-impassioned and NASCAR kinda took over. David came in last, but it was because 1) he was trying to follow the rules and not bump into people, 2) he was the biggest guy on the track and the extra weight added to the time lag...3) [insert more lame excuses].
My favorite part? Loved the outfits.
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