Overheards: Milk

Scene:  Breakfast table.  TD is headed upstairs to dress for school. The Comedian is still eating the last remnants of her cereal.  I'm packing up her lunch, picking up items off the floor, and putting dishes in the sink. 

The Comedian:  "Wash, wash, wash."

Me:  "What are you washing?"

The Comedian:  "Um. Myself."

Me:  "Good. You need to use napkins more. Good job!"

The Comedian: "Yesss. Wash, wash, wash. Washing with milk."

Me: "What?" 

I turn to look.  While I packed her sisters lunch The Comedian has stripped down naked at the breakfast table and begun smearing her cereal milk all over herself. 

Me: Loud, audible sigh.  "We don't wash with miiilllk. Ugh! It doesn't get you clean. It makes you smelly and dirty." 

I'm not even going to impart the possible beauty lesson milk has for the skin. I sense this is not the right crowd. 

Where's Mummy?

Not home, that is for sure. I am sure if you swing into the Yorktown area of Virginia later today you will find me in a pool with my kids enjoying this first week of summer.

Earlier this week I was up in Dearborn, Michigan again with Ford. I know! I was beyond excited too! Drag racing F-150's, learning about new and current technology in Ford cars and meeting some amazing people. It was educational, inspiring and a total blast!



Ed Begley Jr spoke about the small things we can all do to help the environment. It was great to hear such passion from someone besides myself on this matter.

On a whole other note, head over to MPR. Scroll through and enter some great contests on beauty items, Cars 2 prize packs and a year's subscription to Discovery Girl magazine!

If you are a ginormous Sons of Anarchy fan like me, then read this. Seriously, does that baby ever wear anything besides that baby blue SOA hat?

I'm reading a delightful book by David Lebovitz called, The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World's Most Glorious - and Perplexing - City">The Sweet Life in Paris. It's mouth-wateringly good and terrifically funny. If you are a francophile in any way or someone who likes to cook, pick this book up maintenant!

In Which I Experiment with my Body

I've been doing a bit of experimentation with my body the last few weeks. When I put it that way it sounds like I've gone all Tony Stark and put in some sort of contraption into my chest but no, it's with food. Before I met H, I was ahem, younger, and could eat anything I wanted with no consequences. Those days are gone. Have I waxed poetic about the fabulous Olay Regenerist Lifting Serum for eyes I just bought? No? I will soon. It's magic on my tired, old peepers.

I digress.

I could eat anything I wanted back then, but what I ate was typically almost entirely vegetarian. It wasn't an ethical issue. I just didn't like buying and cooking meat for one. I ate a lot of veggies, fruit, dairy and nuts. Carbs were not a mainstay either. Fast forward ten years and three kids later and I feel like carbs have carb-babies in my pantry while I sleep. They are called Annie's Bunnies, Goldfish, and Mac 'n'Cheese. Slicing, dicing, cutting and chopping giant salads and fruit plates doesn't happen when it takes me ten minutes to just get the ingredients out of the fridge because I am always interrupted by people who eat play-doh for a living.

Then, on my trip to Wyoming I just shut down. No more. Greens only please. Protein shakes and nuts? Why, thank you. Two weeks later, I felt fantastic! I had more energy and I was um.. happier. As in, I spent a day wrangling kids and H would come home and ask, "Why are you in such a good mood?" There were like crafts and shit done by my hands with my kids. It was crazy. I had energy to work out and play with the kids all day and do work. I organized stuff around the house and even gardened. What the hell?

So this week I went back to the old ways. I ate regular standard meals and more meat. Guess what? I am exhausted. I feel like shit to put it frankly and after Tuesday had no energy or motivation for the gym. I may not have invented a new life support system a la Iron Man but I think I am on to something at least for my genetic make-up. I am in no way saying this works or is for everyone. Next week, I will try my damnest while in Michigan (courtesy of Ford!) to eat the new way. I might feel like the Bionic Woman once again.

In-N-Out

Because sometimes you just have to go back and try things again.

Talk about a SoCal tradition.

Also, I took this with my new phone.  Squee! That sweet baby rocks. 

Mummy's Randomness

I have this other blog. Sshh..don't tell a soul.  It's all about the deep pits of me.  I put all my hates, desires and creepy thoughts on there that are so twisted and dark you might get retinal bleeding if your read it. 

Cue the "I'm so deep, dark and torturted" music from 1994.

Right.  Actually there are khaki overalls and pictures of cake. 

I started it eons ago to take my food picture addiction to another level.  And then guess what happened. Nothing. It was basically me uploading pictures of food and then me gazing longingly at the food pictures and whatever inane thing I posted on there. 

I decided to go through it the other day as the last time it was updated was (no lie) four years ago and found a meme from Jen Lancaster. For reals.  Hey, I said it was last worked on it in 2007. 

Since I still take really random food pics.  You know you do it too.  I might start updating it again.  If only to mark my adventures in eating which right now are my only way of "world travel". 

Can we file this blog post under "because it's my blog"?  KTHX.

On Rush Limbaugh and FLOTUS

My undies are in a bunch this week on a few things and all of them round back to our dear FLOTUS, Michelle Obama.

First up- her cause to eat right and get moving. The woman is trying to combat the epidemic of unhealthy eating and living that we as a country seem to think is our right.  Is nothing more American than eating a giant Big Mac with a boat load of fries or sipping on a Big Gulp?  To some people, it is their given right as an American to load up on the fat, sugar and sodium- health be damned.  It's a disease, an addiction for some and for others economical factors play a huge role in not being able to eat in a balanced, healthy manner.  Mrs. Obama's campaign is to educate and create a dialog as well as resources to get a balanced diet into all of us.  Our very future as a country depends directly on our health as individuals.



So when Rush Limbaugh lambastes First Lady Michelle Obama for her eating ribs and not tree bark like she claims we all should.  Big air quotes there.  I get mad.  Saying Mrs. Obama should eat more of the berries and roots she extols upon frequently should would look more like an SI swimsuit model or piece of celebrity arm candy.  It's maddening and only fuels the fire with which women and especially young girls see as a healthy body type. 

Also, Mr. Limbaugh - get the nutritional balance and dietary advice right.  You can find out that ribs are 1500 calories but you can't seem to obtain the small bit of knowledge that is needed to be correct in what healthy eating should be.  Of course you can't- you think by eating tree bark you can look like a supermodel.  You ask her to "show us" but you show nothing.  You ask that we find some place other than the mall for our kids to hang out at but you offer no advice or contribution towards helping this country out except to suck up air space.  Loser. 

I despise you Rush Limbaugh.  I feel sorry for you that the only way you can create controversy these days is by putting forth untruths about a balanced diet and what a woman should be like physically.  We all know that every girl is dying to grow up and date A-Rod, right?  I think not.  Thanks for nothing idiot.  You, my friend, are a real fat prize.  Pure proof of what stupidity and gluttony can do to a person.  That's Rush Limbaugh.

Maybe tomorrow I'll discuss how dumb it is that some women are up in arms about tax codes and medical expenses that benefit women and children (breast pumps, breastfeeding supplies) but they don't seem to care that contact lenses are also defined as a tax coded medical reimbursement.  Heaven forbid we encourage something healthy that benefits women and children.  It's so elitist to think that way. Snort.

The Sugar Highs and Lows

The subject of screaming and tantrums has come up before within this blog, especially where TD is concerned.  At first we chalked it up to the Terrible Two's followed by the Troublesome Three's, which everyone declared was way worse than anything we had ever witnessed before.  Right.  It seems that the "F*ck You! Fours" (described quite adequately by a girlfriend of mine) are really what it was all about this past year. 

We tried everything we could think of to rid our home of the yelling and tantrums and absolute hysterical meltdowns that occurred and went on and on and on and on and on.  There were time outs. We took away toys and other privileges, including play dates with friends.  We read and practiced '1,2,3 Magic' too.  We spoke to her pre-school teachers and found out that this behavior isn't exhibited at school. We spoke to her friends parents and found more of the same.  "She's an angel!" they would proclaim.  Huh.  Then how come when she gets home its a case of 'Bizarro TD'?

Then I had an idea.  This summer has brought on a lot of trips, special outings, parties and more.  The amount of sugar that has been pumped into this kid can sometimes reach stratospheric levels without us even being around.  Birthday cake here.  Juice boxes and cookies there.  Suddenly, we have days of insane behavior that no one can control.  We were feeling desperate again and wondering if she might have behavioral problems.  Last Saturday I took it upon myself to experiment with her body chemistry. I informed my mother and H what I had in mind and we all agreed to band together to see if this "test" would work.

No juice.  No desserts.  Only fruit as her form of sugar and anything else is given sparingly.  Really sparingly, if at all.  I don't care what other kids are eating at play dates. She can't have them.  It's milk or water all day.  We haven't baked at all this week and the goodies that people are still bringing to our home with our prepared meals are not being given to her.  It kills me to do this as we don't even have that much sugar in our house for the kids.  We don't give snacks that are processed and pre-made.  Still it was not enough.  She was getting sugar elsewhere and there were too many treats. It was literally driving her crazy and us as well.

Now, on day seven of the "no sugar" TD regime I have noticed a marked change in my child's attitude and conduct.  The drop in the number of time-outs and meltdowns is noticeable and she is downright pleasant a majority of the time.  I don't know how long this will hold, but if we attend some suped-up sugary party in the near future and she has a freak out again I can almost guarantee it is from a sugar high (I don't care what studies show there is a link with sugar and behavior) and then inevitable crashing low.

No Lemons Today

After peeing in a jug for the last 24 hours, dealing with a fevered Comedian all day yesteday and missing ladies night due to some weird cramping and lower back pain (but nothing takes the mind off twisted abs like episodes of Mad Men!) and in general spending the week feeling useless I decided to look for some silver linings.  Some lemonade versus lemons.  It is Friday after all and if I can't drink my weekend away in a Bloody Mary haze until some time in late August I must find something fun and positive.  Right?

-It's sunny. The birds are chirping and flowers are in bloom.  Sounds a bit Julie Andrews but the weather has been weird, windy and gray a lot lately and it was totally getting on my nerves.  Just because I'm happier being prone doesn't mean I want to look out at a dismal day.

-We got a graduation announcement in the mail yesterday.  H's cousin got a full ride to Yale.  She's wicked smot and we are so proud.  She's totally going to need that fur coat that his grandmother gave her last year when her Arizona born and raised self experiences her first New England winter.  Sofia, you my dear, rock. We love you.

-H decided that since I can't think of anything I want for my birthday he is going to hire a sitter and take me out to the city for dinner and to see SATC2.  Um, hon. That is what I want for my birthday.  You are the best.  I am beyond excited already.  Just don't make fun of anything that happens during the movie or if I fret about my shoes beforehand or do anything like talking during the flick.  I might get stabby. I kid. Sort of. 

-I bought cinnamon buns today.  Yeah, so what if I made some on Sunday.  S'ok.  I'm totally in control of my need for donuts, pastries and all things laden with butter and icing and buttercream.  Totally. In. Control. I have not been huffing the box they came in, I swear.  There have been no drive-bys for bakeries either.  Yet.

-It's Shoe Friday!

-I'm accepting baby names.  Baby Trois needs an identity. 

The Sweaty Cowboy

Last week I saw down to a Mother's Day Tea at TD's school.  We had lemonade with heart-shaped ice cubes and pink paper bags full of popcorn that the children had made for us.  It was delightful.  After our snack we followed them to 'Music & Movement'.  Each week she participates in what can only be described as a yoga/dance/singsong frenzy.  The kids love it and it was fun participating even if I couldn't exactly get into a correct downward dog.  The staff spoke often about how the number of overweight children has almost doubled in the past twenty years.  This generation will not live as long as their parents because of fat-related illnesses.  In my state it is the sixth leading cause of death. 

We know the facts.  The First Lady is on a misson to eradicate this US epidemic.  What used to be a small issue isolated to one or two kids per grade has now become commonplace.  $3 billion a year is spent by fast-food companies marketing directly to kids. I don't like my kids wearing cartoon/TV show clothing because I don't want them to be walking advertisements.  I don't want them thinking that french fries and ketchup equal two servings of vegetables a day either. 

When I see these two items -

IHop's Stacked Pancakes. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. Oh, and dessert.  Maybe Fourth Meal too, perhaps? 

and of course KFC's Double Down.  Who doesn't want all that grease, fat and salt mainlined into their system all in one punch?

Um, me.  I don't, that's who.  It makes me mad every time I see things like this! I'm sick of companies thinking that they can just keep creating this shit, because that is what it is, shit. And they are passing it off as a meal let alone actual food.  Death on a plate or a greasy paper bag is more like it.  It doesn't help the countries problems today or its future. A slow, sickly death.  One bite at a time.

Now visit this site for some real cringe-worthy dishes.  My favorite is the Sweaty Cowboy right next to the Elvis Double Down. 

That is all.

The Non-Drinkers Club

Last month I proposed a thirty day challenge of sorts.  No sugar and no alcohol for the entire month of January.  H was first on the bandwagon and then a few fine bloggers decided to join me on this crazy train. I wanted to see if eliminating sugar and drinking from my diet would improve my workouts, help me lose a few pounds and generally change the way I felt internally.  Essentially it was a month long cleanse.  H decided to go all balls to the wall insane though and throw in the "no fried food" thing too. 

Egads.

What started out easy peasy with me just desiring sugar and even dreaming of it became a nightmare.  I thought it would be hard to get rid of the alcohol, I mean what is bath time without wine?  I cook with wine so why not pour a glass during the process too?  Girls night without the cocktails?  For shame!  Yeah, well I got all good and knocked up so taking out the drinky drinky ended up being remarkably simple.  The sugar/ no fried food thing. Um. Not so much.

Seems the only thing this fetus and my disgustingly vomitous stomach wants these days is fried food and sugar.  I held out for two weeks.  Two miserable, literally gut-wrenching, stomach heaving, 24/7 nausea until one day I just said, "Screw it!" When I was pregnant with The Comedian the only thing that helped my morning sickness was grease.  A trip to McDonald's for a sausage biscuit was on point.  Then I would hit the gym and feel great for a few hours.  It worked this time too.  So did drinking Tang, sugar-laden iced tea mix and Coke.  Potato chips, french fries and pizza became my go-to foods.  My ass and thighs already regret this, but when it is the only thing you can keep down and count on to help you make it through the day so be it. 

So while I get a big ol' FAIL on this challenge, H survived, looks leaner because of it and has felt better too. I know I can do it, I've done it in the past.  I'll do it again later.  I'm sure once I pop this kid out I'll be Jillian's bitch again for quite some time.  There are more 5k's and 10k's in my future too.  For now, I have to be content in just incubating this new baby and accepting whatever it is that makes me feel better, even if it is in the form of four Awful, Awful's a day.

Overheards- Eat Your Veggies

Scene: TD and I have spent the morning running errands. Stuck at a stoplight and noshing on some lunch time treats we are on our way home for the remainder of the day.

TD: "Momma? Can we have veg-ah-tahbuhls when we get home and have dinner tonight?"

V: "Yes, of course. We always do. Why?"

TD: "Oh, good! Because if you don't eat your veg-ah-tahbuhls then you cough up blood and die!"

V: Coughing on a piece of I turn around to look at her. "Whaaat? Why would you cough up blood?"

TD: "Like Mem's cousin. He coughed up blood and died."

V: "Of course!" I think to myself, mentally smacking my forehead with my hand. Mem. "Uh, TD, Mem's cousin didn't die because he didn't eat his vegetables. He died because of alcoholism and smoking." Lengthy discussion about what alcoholism and the effects of smoking kill sticks can do to the preschool set and finally the light turns green.

Later, H commented that I should have let TD believe that no veggies equals death by coughed up blood. Nutrition by intimidation and scare tactics anyone? Sounds like a preschool curriculum from Dick Cheney.

I Love the Smell of Torture in the Morning

Running. Three miles. A 5k's worth. Five miles. Each week it increases. I've yet to find a route I like. The hills around here- they break me. You would think I would be a finely tuned running machine by now but I'm more like a cranky, old dog who has lost her bite.

Cross-training three times a week. It's back to Body Pump at the gym since Shredding has effed up my knees something fierce. Oh wait, that's right. I can't seem to drag my ass to an actual Body Pump class to save my life. I think of those disc weights and triceps curls and I turn into a whiny toddler who is two hours past her nap and in a downward spiral of a lost sugar high.

Just to punish myself more I have decided to add in a Detox. No sugar, no carbs, no dairy, very little if any meat. I'm blaming it on the few days I spent in LA eating soy-based products and little sugar. The "Hot Preview" (read fried calamari, french fries, wings, ribs and more!) which should have been called the "Hot Mess" that I devoured along with copious amount of wine-swilling, absinthe chugging chased with a bucket of vodka probably didn't help. My body, my liver, they wants to be cleansed. "Heal me!" My liver cries, casting itself about for some healing waters and a laying of hands.

I made it through day one of the detox. All steel-willed loaded with fierce and yes, a bit of pious determination. I gulped down water with lemon, detoxifying (read: crap your weight, on the hour, every hour) teas and then more water. I crammed my body full of assorted greens and other veggies throughout the day stopping only to nibble on a nut or two when I needed it. It felt good.

This morning? I burned my spinach-tomato-red pepper-onion-broccoli breakfast extravaganza after The Comedian puked on the floor. Cheerios littered the kitchen having little Cheerio babies. TD painted a masterpiece on the table with yogurt while I scraped the frying pan. I poured my morning coffee (my only indulgence in the detox) only to have it slosh on my legs soaking my gym shorts and scalding my feet. The kids loved the "Mommy is burning!" dance. I do aim to please.

The Last Pancake

Scene: Breakfast is over for this Sunday morning and clean up has begun. I notice that there is one last pancake left.

V: I pick up the pancake and say, "Dare me to chuck this last pancake at the dog's head?"

H: "Go for it."

I lob it at the dog and it grazes her cheek. Considering the fact that this is a dog that can catch adult-sized birds in mid-flight I am a bit surprised that she doesn't grab a hold of this flying snack. It lands on the floor next to her and in seconds the dog, TD and The Comedian are on this lone pancake like a pack of hungry wolves.

After a few minutes of wrestling with her sister and the dog, The Comedian crawls away with only a glance back. Having been nearly shanked by the dog's talons of death she realizes that whatever tiny scrap of pancake she was going to get it wasn't worth it.

TD, however is in full pseudo-fight mode with the dog. There is cackling and scrambling coming from under the kitchen table. I peer beneath it and see TD, fully aware of how silly this all is, eating the pancake right along with the dog. A huge smile spreads across her face as a giggle escapes her throat.

I'm glad I cleaned the floor that morning. I look at H and say, "We're awesome parents."

Randomness #235- I look like Harry Potter

-Those crazy folks at Poo-pourri are at it again- "Poo~Pourri is a spray deodorizer designed to be sprayed directly onto the toilet bowl water before you go. The secret blend essential oils create a film on the surface of the toilet water that acts as a barrier to trap odors inside." Secret blend? Makes me think of the Colonel's secret blend of herbs and spices and to never wanting to eat fried chicken ever again.


-I stopped shredding and gained four pounds. Probably because I also consumed four pounds of cadbury eggs, chocolate marshmallow bunnies and a load of Hershey products all in a few short weeks. My insides feel disgusting. Time to detox! Who's coming with me?!


-I read that Speidi will be honeymooning in Mexico. Can it be true? Will the apocalypse caused by this union be diverted if they get Swine flu? Would that be a 'very special' episode of The Hills if they did? Cue deathbed scene with special guest LC...


-Skin glue is like the most delicious scab that I want to pick. I find myself constantly touching it and then slapping my hand away.


-According to my friends my head gash makes me look like Harry Potter. Awesome. Just awesome.








I'm getting bookish at Honest Baby in 'Mummy Goes Literary'. It's 'Just the Two of Us' at DC Metro Moms. Check them both out!



Get in on the 'Friday Fun Finds' at MPR today!

Cadbury Egg You Are My Precious

Easter is but a few days away and like a squirrel preparing for winter I've been hoarding Cadbury Creme Eggs like the end of the world is nigh. I cannot seem to dash into a CVS or Wegman's without throwing one on the counter along with my other purchases. OK, can't seem to leave without four of those decadent eggy treats. Yes, four. When I get home I tuck them away into a safe hiding place.

Then, when the house is all quiet and the kids are napping and H is out of sight, I break one of those delightfully delicious eggs out. I hold it in the palm of my hand, lament how small it is getting (smaller again this year! Damn you Hershey's! The egg used to be a supreme 1.6 ounces. Then 1.4., now 1.2 this year- you are running dangerously close to a bad fondant/chocolate ratio Hershey! Stop messing with my precious!) and then I carefully unwrap my sweet goodness, being careful not to tear the brightly colored foil wrapper. I have a precise way of eating my Cadbury Egg (I hear that is not uncommon among us die-hard fans) and I take my time with it. I savor this once a year treat. It's like Prozac for my soul, I swear.

So while some people think The Egg resembles sickly sweet puss, I deem it wonderful and something I look forward to all year long.

What's your only available once a year treat?

I Cry Do Over!

So yesterday was a total wash. At least as far as living a healthy shredding lifestyle. There were doctor appointments for me and TD, and a sleepless night broke us. Numerous visits to the pharmacy and I finally got to see the psychiatrist for my postpartum depression diagnosis. It was simply put a very long and exhausting day. Do any of us really want to review our whole psych history in under an hour and dredge up all our little and not so little issues in that short amount of time? No, not really. Do we want to leave that cozy office with its box of endless tissues and go out into the blaring sun and head back into our everyday life? Not me. I just wanted to take a big nap.

I did learn one thing yesterday. When I'm stressed and tired it is oh so clear that I reach for one thing. Food. Very, very bad food.

OK, so really it is only very, very bad when I cram mass quantities of it into my gaping pie hole all at once but that is in fact just what I did yesterday. In between the appointments, caring for a sick kid and work I managed to eat a cupcake, some soda, large amounts of coffee and an entire McDonald's Value Meal. Oh yeah, I went there. I ate those golden fries and downed a thick, cheesy QPC with glee. I just wanted TD to eat something. Two days of only drinking and not much of that even I thought I could charm her with a chi-chi nugget or two. Nothing doing. The kid ate one fry and a slice of apple before laying down again. What did I do? Well, I ate those disgusting little nuggets of course. And you know what? The last time I ate a chicken nugget was when the Golden Arches first debuted them. I hate them that much. Yet, I didn't even notice what I was doing. I was just eating for the sake of eating. I didn't stop there either. I crammed a piece of supreme style pizza into my mouth too. The bloat cannot be believed. I wouldn't be surprised if I ate in my sleep last night because last night was very fuzzy with more endless sick child wake ups and me fighting off the cold I thought I was finally getting over. In my Celexa/nyquil haze I very well could have eaten a carton of chocolate ice cream and sprayed some leftover icing into my mouth and would not be the wiser.

Just when I thought that I had jumped that hurdle of eating to fill a void and cure my woes I jumped right back into that pit. It's maddening I tell you, just maddening. I'm avoiding the lemon poppy seed scones and lemon curd in my pantry like they are the Black Death (book club people, they are for my book club meeting, I swear! Except that -oh yeah, I am not going to that tonight. Oops.).

I'm back on the wagon today of egg whites, low doses of caffeine and lots of fruits and veggies. If I can get up the energy I'll kick my own butt with day nine of Shredding. The journey continues. I guess I should have expected a few bumps along the way.

Let the New Year Begin

When you buy a peanut butter chocolate pie it just looks so divine. So tasty. You cannot wait to dip your fork into it and savor every bite.



You have no idea the pie will meets its end like this-



You think you are so civilized and then you spend New Year's with old college friends and you realize that despite owning the home, having the 2.5 kids and a dog you still end up like this on New Year's.

H and co-conspirator in the pie demise, Jen. So much for keeping it simple. It took an entire day to clean that kitchen up and I'm sure there is still bits of pie stuck to some surface or other.

What's for Dinner?

I just devoured a plate of mozzarella cheese sticks. Sshh... TD has no idea. In the oven is a batch of mac n' cheese that will be our lunch. Yeah, it's organic and all but still. It's carbs and butter and more carbs. All cheesy goodness. If I decide to throw in a side of veggies its just to ease some guilt in the child rearing department.

I look at this meal and I think, "So why on earth do people think my house is so hard to cook for?" The subject came up at last nights GNO because on our street we cook for anyone who has had surgery, a hard time or a new baby. It's about a weeks worth of food and everyone is assigned a night to bring it by and ease the burden of thinking, "Crap! I'm covered in breast milk and up to my ears in diapers and now I have to think about what's for dinner?!" It's quite a perk and one luxury I didn't have with TD as we didn't know the 'hood yet. Apparently though our house is a conundrum.

We don't eat casseroles.

We eat vegetarian one night a week at least.

We eat frozen chicken nuggets that are made of vegetable protein and not real chicken. Ssh... TD is clueless.

We .... we... we what?! We like vegetables? We eat whole wheat bread and pasta versus the other stuff? I don't get it. It's not like we shun that other stuff we just don't buy it and prefer the other choices. It doesn't mean you have to go all bulger wheat on our butts and make things all complicated. Seriously. If someone comes by my house with refined white pasta lasagna I'm going to devour it. I will happily take it and love it. It's free. I didn't have to make it. I'm in love with you for thinking of me. Enough said.

I do draw the line at casseroles though. Or anything with a cracker or chip crust. I just didn't grow up with that food and I don't like it to this day. You cook something with tuna in it and well you might be sad to see it on the curb on trash day. However, that's why we ask the all the family's ahead of time about likes and dislikes or allergies.

Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive pregnant lady but I had no idea my household ate so differently than anyone else. Then again, when H brings a salad to work for lunch with cut up veggies on the side for a snack he's told he eats rabbit food. Go figure. I thought the sheer fact that I have chips and Nesquik in my pantry shows I'm not the Skinny Bitch everyone thinks I am.

What's in your pantry? Is Quinoa a major meal or do you have only tater tots and Hot Pockets to sustain you? Or are you like us, the happy medium? Confess your pantry sins here in the comment section. You know you want to.

I have five different types of hot chocolate at least lurking in mine right now.

Scenes from a Getaway

Hey look! It's a pregnant lady eating ice cream. Go figure.

Gratuitous beach/cute kid shot.

Now that is a clamcake! Or fritter if you are like not from South County Rhode Island and want to be a weirdo or something. This is in no way a crab cake. It's all fried dough goodness. At last count I consumed about ten of them. Check out the classic scenic wood paneling on the walls. This place hasn't changed since the 1950s. My parents went on dates here and now T.D. climbs into her favorite chair like she's a regular. It does not get any better than that.

Dear Trader Joe's

Dear Trader Joe's,

It is Joe right? Not Giotto, Jose or whatever alias you might feel like going by today? I'm on to you. I will admit you snuck one by me and I'm very disappointed in you Joe. Very disappointed.

When I visited your open and friendly store just last week you were chocked full of delightful supplies. Even your bathroom was clean and sweet smelling. I purchased many items from you as I am wont to do when I set foot on your premises. Each. And. Every. Time. You suck me in Joe. I am truly a sucker for you.

So when I saw your delicious, fresh key lime pie I knew I had to have you. Have you I did as I proudly placed you on the register to be scanned. I placed you lovingly in my car and took you home with me. Oh beautiful not scary green key lime pie. Not too tart, not too sweet. We saved you for a few days in the freezer just like we were supposed to and then thawed you out but nope! Not for too long. I wanted you to be just right. No frozen bits for me! After Mother's Day dinner (a place of honor, I remind you.) you were set out for dessert. Oh luscious pie. Sweet, sweet smelling lime filled pie with the perfect consistency and not too crumbly graham cracker crust. You never let me down whether it is just us dining alone or with company. You send me! I could not wait a second longer. I dove my fork into you and pulled out the perfect bite!

Err.. what is this?!? My mouth! It is full of sand. Trader Joe! You traitor! The texture of your key lime pie is like a mouthful of sand and then paste! What?! What is this awful metallic taste? I did not just ingest a mouthful of keys! Blech! Plack!!! Yick!! I watch in horror as we all simultaneously spit you out, you nasty gravel pit pie! Some tried to take more than one bite not believing what their taste buds were telling them. Many shoved you aside. Including moi.

I am disappointed in you Joe. What happened? Is this how it is going to be from now on? No more smooth texture and fresh key limey taste? Just a mouthful of beach sand like paste and the taste of stainless steel? For shame, Joe! For shame!

Our relationship with your pies will never be the same again.