Unsolicited Parenting Advice #3

Several months ago, Charlie and I were enjoying a quiet evening at home listening to the rocking tunes of "The Terrible Twos." During the song, "If You Ever See An Owl," an owl hoots in the back ground. When the owl hooted, I reacted in a way that I thought was a jovial look of surprise. Turns out, it had the opposite effect and Charlie looked out the window in fright and burst into tears. For weeks he talked about that damn owl that his imagination decided lived in the tree outside and was going to peck his eyes out in his sleep or something.

More recently, Charlie is hyper-focused on things that are scary. He got scared of a dinosaur he saw on a show. At a farm, he was scared of a rooster crowing. They were justifiable reactions at the time but he talks about them nearly every day. It has been a learning process for us dealing with his knew found fear of things. I have no idea if we are handling it correctly but I am pretty confident I know what not to do if your child find themselves fearful of something:

1. Don't tell them things like, "You better behave or the owl will become very angry with you!!!"

2. Don't hide under his bed at night and growl like a dinosaur as he is falling asleep.

3. Don't purchase a rooster to use in lieu of an alarm clock.

What I have been trying to do is down play his comments about the "scary (fill in the blank)." Obviously, if he is visibly upset he gets as many snuggles as he needs. But, if he just mentions something being scary unprovoked, if appropriate I ignore it and change the subject or simply say, "No honey, it's not scary. I think roosters/dinosaurs/owls are nice." I only hope that I am minimizing instilling any unnecessary fear in him. Besides, if I am going to make him fearful of anything, it is going to over things that are worth it. Like large bodies of water, windowless vans and Fox news.

Unsolicited Parenting Advice #2

As if I didn't need another time suck in my life, I have now discovered Pinterest. It is a social networking site where you can create and share pin boards of basically anything you want. For example, crafts you will likely never do, clothes you can't afford and food you will probably never make. So it's like Facebook, but more depressing.

It is an amazing reference for ideas for the kiddos and even though I will never be the type of person who will make felted wine coasters or crochet my own jeggings, for Charlie, I am willing to do just about anything. Since you can never have too many fine motor activities for the the little ones (and it is always so lovely when they stand still) I had to try this:


Plastic strainer, pipe cleaners and a willing child. Done.


Please note: Make sure you stay close by during this activity. It doesn't take long for them to realize that these pipe cleaners will fit in other holes like, say, their ears.

And this will probably happen:



And then this:



And you know what I say to that? Quit crying to me kid, with your little hands and underdeveloped dexterity. Just figure it out. After all, those diamonds ain't gonna mine themselves. AMIRIGHT?

(Disclaimer: Child labor is not funny. Not now, not ever. However, having children to someday do chores for you while you sit on the couch and eat bon bons? HILARIOUS.)

My very selfish attempt at time travel

I while back I wrote a letter to my teenage self that was featured on this awesome site. My letter was well received by my friends and family and even brought some of them to tears (or so I am told). For that, I am humbled.

But now I want a do-over. I would like to write a new letter to myself that says this and only this:

"Get off your lazy ass and listen to the doctors when they tell you to take care of your back."

My back problems started at the ripe old age of 13. I think I was in Junior High the first time I threw it out from tying my shoe, sneezing or something else equally as embarrassing. My back went into spasms, my pelvis tilted to the side like a teeter-toter and I was out of commission for several days. It was painful but I did get to miss school and I recovered within a few days so I went on with my junior high life of bad fashion choices and hormonal cry-fests. But that first time was all it took; it was the proverbial straw that broke, well, my back. About once or twice a year, from that point on, I suffered from one of these episodes. I remember one time it happened while on vacation at our family cabin in Washington state. It was probably around '96 or '97. Those little butterfly clips were all the rage which meant my sister had roughly 37,000 of them in all the shades of an iridescent rainbow. She would twist and twirl her hair and attach about half of them to various places on her head every morning, the colors always corresponding to the "outfit" she had chosen for the day. The clips, colorful eye shadow combinations and silver, platform clown shoes were just her version of a giant neon sign with arrows pointing to her head and flashing "Look at me! Look at me!"

But I digress...

In a simultaneous effort to embarrass and make us laugh, my father thought it would be funny to attach the little clips to various parts of his face and body. When the clip he placed on his eyebrow proved to be a bit to painful and he yelped like a four-year-old girl, everyone at the table started to howl in laughter. I just started howl. Apparently laughing was just enough to send my back into those painful spasms I had grown all too accustomed to. I was so twisted and in so much pain that I couldn't put any weight on my feet so my family dragged a mattress from the bedroom into the kitchen so I could sleep right there on the floor. It took me nearly a half an hour to get from the chair down to the mattress. Once I finally made it down there I said, "And now I have to pee."

My aunt, who is an occupational therapist, said to me, "You know what honey, I deal with this all the time. If you want, I can go find and empty jar and we can do this right here."

"I'M UP!" It's amazing what a little motivation can do for you, especially if that motivation is to avoid showing your lady bits to your family members. Somehow I found the strength to crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom and drag my body up onto the toilet. The next day I was still pretty uncomfortable but my dad located a back brace and some pain killers at a local drug store and after a day or two I was enjoying my vacation again.

We tried to figure out why I had a back that appeared to be made out of construction paper and macaroni noodles. I had xrays, MRIs, was taken out of PE classes, and sent to Physical Therapy. My diagnosis was basically that I was very tall for my age and had weak core and back muscles. I needed to exercise in general but more specifically, I needed to work those areas of my body to prevent this from happening in the future. However, the problem was that I stood in the choir and looked pretty. Exercise was bothersome, sweaty and made my make-up run. Basically, I didn't do it and now, at 30, I would do just about anything to go back in time, shake some sense into myself and do few crunches here and there. Because chronic back pain with a 20-month-old is no joke. Try doing crunches now with a kid who thinks by being on the floor, you want to wrestle and so he throws his body on top of yours and says, "Sit on Mommy!"

So I was at physical therapy the other day (which is now a normal part of my life, at thirty) and I told my therapist that the pain seemed to be moving into my mid back and sometimes I feel numbness. I am no doctor but I am pretty sure this is not a good thing. He felt around and told me I was quite tight in that area and he wanted to try a technique on me that will "probably bruise" but should help. At this point I am willing to be stabbed repeatedly with knives if someone promises me it will help so bruise away! He had me lie face down and with some kind of poking device, which in retrospect is probably better that I didn't see, started massaging. It literally sounded like he was crushing Cheetos on my back.

"Yeah, do you hear that?" He asked.

"Um, yes."

"This is not a new problem. You have years of damage in there which has basically caused scar tissue to form on your muscles. That is the crunching sound you hear." Oh thank God! Because I thought that sound was because my back was actually made of a gravel driveway. But it's not that! It is just YEARS AND YEARS of damage! Hooray!

He also told me that another side effect of this technique was addiction and many of his patients want him to do it every visit. "Ha ha. That is funny. I wonder why?" I said as innocently as I could, and then decided it was probably best to refrain from asking him to come home with me, live in my bedroom and do that to me everyday. Because whatever he did helped tremendously and if I am being totally honest, I have not felt this good in months.

But don't tell my teen self this. No, no, no. Because this does not mean I am "fixed." The truth is, I am finally (begrudgingly) starting to accept the fact that this is more than just a tweaked muscle. This is going to be a lifelong battle I will have to fight. So I am telling you, teenage me, find something active that you like to do and freaking do it. Stretch and do some crunches every day. Trust me, your post-baby abs will thank you for it anyway. And maybe, if you do all of this, you won't be in pain all the time. Maybe you won't be scared every time you bend down to tie your shoe or pick up something you drop on the floor. Maybe you won't feel like you can't do your fair share of the housework. Maybe you won't have to quit doing things that you used to really enjoy. Maybe you won't worry every time you reach down to pick up your son. Also, if you don't listen to me now, you will have zits all over your face on your wedding day.

Ok, that last part might not be true.

Big Ole' Bowl of Thanksgiving Goodness

A few weeks ago I made this soup. I actually instructed you, once you you finished reading the post, to stop what you were doing and go and make the soup. If you are sitting here reading this now and have yet to make the Butternut Squash and Bacon soup I have a question for you:

"Why do you hate yourself?"

Not to fear; I have another option. Some of my fellow foodie friends put me up to the challenge make a pureed butternut squash soup. There was mention incorporating candied pecans and cranberries. Also, bacon. Always bacon.

Here is roughly what I did. (I never measure and often drink wine when I cook so, yeah.)


Half, seed, season and roast the butternut squash in a 375 degree oven until tender.


Melt about a tablespoon of butter, two tablespoons of brown sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon in a pan. Throw the nuts in. Toss and cook for a few minutes until they start to caramelize. Pour them out onto a nonstick surface to cool.


This next part will BLOW YOUR MIND. My dear friend Toni is wonderful for a countless list of reasons but one of my favorite things about her is the girl will put sugar on anything she can get away with. This includes bacon.

Mix approximately 1/4 cup of brown sugar and about 1/2 teaspoon of chili powder (more or less to taste of course). I happened to use chipotle powder. Dredge the bacon in the sugar and chili mixture on both sides and roast in a 400 degree oven for about 20-25 minutes. You will never look at bacon the same again.


Dried cranberries, chopped candied pecans and spicy candied bacon. This is the garnish for your soup. If you want to skip the soup part and just mix the contents of these bowls together to form THE BEST TRAIL MIX EVER I will not judge you.

To make the soup, saute a chopped onion in butter (or bacon fat...whatever) until translucent in a large stockpot. Dig out the butternut squash from its shell and add to the cooked onions. Sprinkle with a bit more chipotle powder and cook until the squash is heated through and starts to break down.

Honestly, I have no idea how much chicken broth to add. A box? Two cans? Enough? A wine glass full? Bring to a boil. After it boils, you can either transfer it to a food processor or blender, but that sounds like a second degree burn waiting to happen. Might I suggest investing in one of these handy things for all your pureeing needs? Hit it with some half and half at the end for richness.


This is the end result. It tastes like freaking Thanksgiving in a bowl. The only person in my house who didn't like it was Charlie. But I wouldn't trust the opinion of someone who will eat cheerios that have been in the bottom of his car seat for two weeks.

Charlie Chicken

Because there soon will come a day when he insists on being a ninja and only a ninja every freaking year.

Soup Weather

I am very much aware that The Onion is a jokey-jokey-fun-time news site where things are parodied, the stories are fake and hilarity ensues. However, last February, I read this article about soup and thought to myself, "What is so funny about this? This is some solid news reporting going on here!"

There is nothing I love more about fall than soup and it is my absolute favorite thing to make in the kitchen. I like it so much in fact, that I will find any excuse to make it. For example, here, when I logically went with beef stew because it was easy and would feed a lot of people. I forgot the fact that it was June and about 47 gabillion degrees outside. So, when it actually becomes fall and the leaves begin to turn on the tree outside my window and the evenings start to feel just slightly cooler than they were the week before, IT'S SOUP TIME!

The other night, I made a soup so amazing I am almost willing to lie and say that I made it up because I am just that awesome. Because only someone awesome would put these ingredients in a soup:



You can find the full recipe here. (It's the second soup recipe down on the page. I have yet to try the first one.)

How do you think I did compared to the picture on the website?


If the picture is not enough to convince you to make this soup right now let me tell you this: The broth tastes like bacon. BACON! Seriously, go now.

Obviously, my first soup of the season was a huge success and I am so excited for more. Broccoli Chedder, I'm coming for you next, bitch.

Unsolicited Parenting Advice #1

I got a bachelors degree in Child Development because I thought I wanted to be a teacher. A preschool teacher, to be exact. So right out of college, that was my first job. Now, I don't know if you know this but kids are really annoying. Especially 24 of them, all in the same room together, high on juice and play dough fumes, and only 21 of them are truly "potty trained." But, I loved children so the fact that I wanted to lock half of them in the bathroom everyday was shocking to me. Since I wanted to continue to love children, I decided it best I get a new profession. So I did, and I loved it. While I didn't work with them directly, it still involved helping kids just with a lot less boogers and tempura paint on my jeans.

Even though I couldn't cut it as a preschool teacher, I am super thankful for my child development background now that I am mom. I am no expert and would never claim to be one. I am very aware of the fact that I am making mistakes (probably daily). I even do things I swore I would never, ever do. In college, I would be willing to bet I uttered the phrase, "What kind of mother would allow her child to watch television under the age of two??"

Well, who has two thumbs and needs a GODDAMN MINUTE TO COOK DINNER???

This mom. (Gasp! She what?? What a hypocrite!)

Okay, OKAY!!! I get it and it honestly goes against a lot of what I believe in but since my child insists on standing under my legs while I am at the stove cooking, (food that is meant to keep him ALIVE, mind you) it becomes a matter of safety. Twenty minutes of "Dinosaur Train" is a hell of a lot better than an irreparable face burn. At least that is how I talk myself out of feeling guilty.

Television is not the only activity I do with my son, of course. For the love of God, I was Child Development major. Which is why I know how important it is to develop fine motor skills. What I have for you, my mom and dad friends out there, is a step by step guide for a DIY fine motor skills activity.

Step 1.

Obtain an empty bottle. Might I suggest a handle of Segram's or perhaps a jug of Carlo Rossi merlot? Oh who am I kidding! Those are made of glass! How inappropriate of me to suggest such a thing. An empty water bottle like this will do just fine.

Step 2.

Drink a lot of wine. Save the corks.

Step 3.

Look at the magic of coordination happen right before your eyes!


Never has a child been happier to be playing with something that was intended for the trash.