Preschool starts next Thursday. And I’m having a tough time adjusting to this fact.

I mean, yeah, I’m excited for Henry and Eleanor. Their school has tons of parental involvement, and they have a great teacher, and they seem pretty excited themselves, and I can’t wait for them to have new adventures (and for me to have some time to myself). I’m so proud of my big kids, my preschoolers.

But all the mom part of me can think is that it’s the beginning of them leaving me. We’re going to start experiencing life apart from one another, and before I know it they’ll be off to college and having their own independent lives, and they’ll roll their eyes when I tell them they’ll always be my babies, and on second thought, education is overrated, kids, why don’t you stay at home with Mom forever and ever and ever.

And to top it off, every time preschool is mentioned (which is all the time lately) I get this Sesame Street song stuck in my head.

So basically, laments over the fleeting nature of childhood and green Muppet Zac Efrons are battling for space in my brain. It’s been a strange week.

It was hot and dusty and crowded, and my funnel cake cost $6, and we couldn’t find the way out of the parking lot, and I didn’t get to browse the exhibition halls, and we picked the shuttle train whose driver just went on break, and my camera battery died, and it took us three tries to find a bathroom.

But to experience it through the eyes of two excited three-year-olds? Totally worth it.

(See all my state fair photos here)

First a quick housekeeping note. Remember how I got my big-girl blog this week? Well, if you happen to subscribe to it in a reader, you might need to resubscribe, okay?

•••

This week I have:

been startled out of my shower by a screaming toddler who urgently needed to ask me RIGHT NOW, “do bunnies eat pizza and chips?”
lost track of how many times I’ve said, “go find your pants.”
been told, “I peed on the floor.”
broken up a fight between naked toddlers over imaginary pizza.

Three is such a fun age. Wait, did I say fun? I meant INSANE.

•••

Celebrity I have to rethink my opinion of
So general consensus is that Kanye West is kind of an asshole. I mean, we’ve all seen the VMAs and the South Park “fish sticks” episode, right? But then he showed up on Twitter, and so of course I followed him because the main point of Twitter is to stalk celebrities (hi Britney!) and I was all set to be IMMA LET YOU FINISH BUT @SHITMYDADSAYS IS THE GREATEST TWITTER STREAM OF ALL TIME but dadgummit if he’s not kinda likeable. Like, genuinely into design and appreciative of his fortune and missing his mom. So whew, now I don’t have to feel bad that his new song and the Jay-Z remix are about to become the most-played songs on my iPod.

Celebrity I don’t have to rethink my opinion of, although for a while there I thought I did
So we watch Cars on a daily basis around these parts, and I kept thinking, “you know, I always thought Jennifer Aniston was gorgeous but not that great of an actor, she’s just always the same whether she’s Rachel or that waitress chick on Office Space, but I have to admit, she does a really good job as Sally in this movie, I know it’s only her voice but it’s probably her best acting by far.”

Except, yeah, tooootally not Jennifer Aniston. It’s Bonnie Hunt.

•••

Phrases Henry and Eleanor have used lately that I know they learned from me:
ACTually…
that’s the plan
that’s the deal
you guys

•••

My children are cute and I have the photos to prove it:

In our family we like to play a game called Buy Bananas And Then Watch Them Turn Brown Instead of Actually Eating Them.

Luckily, in our family we have multiple generations of good cooks, too, so I have a few recipes to put the mushy bananas to use.

Banana Oat Bread, my mom’s recipe

1 tsp. basking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
¾ tsp. salt
oleo
¼ cup milk
2 tsp. vanilla
2 large eggs
flour
quick cooking oats
brown sugar
1 cup mashed bananas (about 2 large)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9×5 loaf pan.
In large bowl, mix baking powder, baking soda, salt, 2 cups flour, 1 cup oats, and ½ cup packed brown sugar until blended. With pastry blender or two knives used scissor-fashion cut in ½ c. oleo (1 stick) until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in mashed bananas, milk, vanilla, eggs just until flour is moistened. Spoon batter into pan.
Prepare crumb topping: in small bowl with fork mix 3 Tsp. oats, 3 Tsp. brown sugar, 3 Tsp. oleo. Sprinkle evenly over batter.
Bake bread 1 hour 10 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire rack 10 minutes, remove from pan and finish cooling on wire rack.

(UPDATE FROM MY MOM: per the email I just got from her, “The recipe does state to bake an hour & 10 minutes but I think that is too long. Normally banana bread only takes 40-45 minutes or until brown & a toothpick comes out clean. Don’t know why this one says to bake it for that long.” I baked mine for a little over an hour, but my oven’s kinda wonky, so I’d listen to my mom. She’s always right, just like all moms are.)

Banana Oatmeal Cookies, my grandma’s recipe
1 ½ cups flour
½ tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¾ tsp. cinnamon
1 cup sugar
¾ cup Crisco shortening
1 egg, beaten
1 cup mashed ripe bananas
1 ¾ cup quick rolled oats
½ cup chopped nuts

Sift flour, sugar, soda, salt, spices into mixing bowl. Cut in Crisco into dry ingredients until mixture is crumbly. Add well beaten egg, bananas, oats, nuts. Beat until thoroughly blended. Drop by teaspoon about 1 ½ inches apart onto very lightly greased cookie sheet.
Bake 12-16 minutes, remove from cookie sheet immediately.

(UPDATE FROM MY MOM: per her email, “Dad loves to eat those cookies frozen right from the freezer.” Bonus serving tip!)

Now go forth and get the ripe bananas from the top of YOUR fridge and get to baking. And sorry about getting that Gwen Stefani song stuck in your head.

Aug 162010

I’m mooovin’ on up, to the east siiiiide, if by “movin’ on up” you mean “switched from Blogger” and by “east side” you mean “Wordpress.” It’s not quite a deeeeluxe apartment in the skyyy-hyyyyy, but check out my new digs! Fancy, huh? I’ve got a favicon and a contact form and threaded comments, pretty much everything but a wisecracking maid teasing me about my height.

There’s still some tweaking and settling in to be done, so bear with me if anything seems wonky or broken (or better yet, let me know—you can use my contact form!). And I’m out of Jeffersons references, so time to end this post like George slamming the door on Bentley.

Okay, seriously, I’m done now. Enjoy the new site!

Aug 082010

Mom and Dad in town
loving and spoiling of kids
and free childcare

Date night! Sushi? Yes!
Oh, but wait, Gen Con in town,
there’s nowhere to park.

A movie instead.
Inception—great, now I am
scared to start dreaming.

Shopping with my mom
Fabric sale a big success
Trader Joe’s was, too

Projects with my dad
Let’s redo the twins’ closet!
It needs new shelving.

What do you do when
you have a long to-do list?
Go to pool, of course!


(sorry, bad photo / I took it with my iPhone / not real camera)

Wait, did I just write
a photo caption haiku?
That’s my sign to stop.

Aug 042010

Today I’m potty training and cleaning out closets and watching Cars and making lunch and reading blogs and playing pretend.

And thinking of the Wednesday six years ago that my firstborn entered and left the world.

Happy birthday, Sam and Emilie. You are always missed and forever loved.

Aug 022010

After three years, it was a day I thought we’d never see. A great love affair is at long last over.

Yes, Henry finally gave up his binky. And honestly? It was much easier than I had imagined.

Andy and I been warning him that it was time, fretting over the big battle we were convinced would ensue. Last week, we decided to go cold turkey. We told Henry that we’d leave out all of our binkys, and that the Binky Fairy would come and take them, leaving presents in their place.

At bedtime last Sunday, the binkys were gathered and placed in a basket by our front door. Monday morning came, and Henry asked me, “Mom, are all my binkys gone?” He started to cry when I told him that yes, they were. But I reminded him about the presents, and he ran to the door to discover two sets of characters from the movie Cars, our current household obsession.

Henry FLIPPED OUT with joy. “Oh, wow!” he exclaimed over and over. And he’s been fine ever since. He did ask for his binky one day when he was under the weather, but we reminded him that he had his cars instead, and that was it. Mostly, he’s been proud to tell us what a big boy he is while composing reproductions of McQueen’s big race.

It’s a little strange to see Henry without his beloved piece of plastic jutting out of his mouth. But it was time to move on, and a relief that the transition went smoothly. A big boy, indeed–farewell, binkys and babyhood!

Jul 252010

My hands look EXACTLY like my mother’s, but, sadly, I didn’t inherit her green thumb. Truth be told, I hate yard work and gardening, and tend to kill flowers while the weeds in my lawn flourish.

But a corner of my yard this summer contains a handful of basil and tomato plants. Why? Because of this:

2 cups basil leaves, rinsed and drained
¼ cup melted butter
¼ cup olive oil
4 cloves garlic
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
1/3 cup pine nuts
½ cup grated parmesan

In food processor, blend oil, butter and garlic. Add basil and pine nuts. Blend. Add salt, pepper and parmesan. Blend until smooth. Makes 1 ½ cups.

Cook up a box of pasta, roast some pine nuts, and dice some just-picked roma tomatoes. Toss it all together, and fight the urge to yell “OMG I LOOOOOVE YOOOOU PESTO NOM NOM NOM” after every bite.

I think this is my very favorite thing to eat in the summer. For real, if it gets ME to garden, you know it’s pretty delicious.

Dear Henry and Eleanor,

Look, kids, I know you can do a lot. A lot.

You can explain the difference between an herbivore and a carnivore.

You can run, jump, stand on one foot, and slide on the tallest slides at the playground.

You can careen your tricycles across the driveway better than Helio and Danica.

You can create impressive imaginary set-ups involving monsters named Frankie, a dinosaur or two, and Lightning McQueen.

You can dress yourself, despite the occasional Kris Kross homage.

You can count to diez in Spanish.

So seriously, JUST POOP ON THE D@MN POTTY ALREADY.

much love,
your mother

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