Vince Lombardi and Jerry Sloan just kicked the door of my house down. My Man Card has been suspended for a week. And I deserved it.
Moe and Puzey just got home from school (Thanks again Ma). Moe had a handful of boondoggle. You know that nylon thread encased in colorful plastic that you braid into keychains and other usless crapola?
Unable to keep my big yapper shut I blurt out "Boondoggle! I remember that stuff. I used to be able to do square and round and checkerboard. It's pretty cool."
Moe looks at me incredulously and says "You know how to do Boondoggle? I thought that was for girls!"
"No, I learned how to do it at cub scout camp...Yeah...So...I guess it is girlstuff."
Off in the distance I heard the wailing noise of Man Police sirens. And just like when Peter heard that rooster, I knew I had sinned.
Friday, November 13, 2009
We Have a Winner!
We were all sitting on the couch, quietly watching cartoons and I dozed off. Normally, this is a very bad thing. Five minutes is all these guys need to work their magic. Nearly every really gruesome experience I have had as a house dad begins with the words "I had only dozed for a second..."
On the other hand, with the eldest home today resting her bad wheel, I should have had some back up. Where were you on that one, Miss "I can be responsible?"
This time I got lucky. I heard 'em whispering and one of them said "Hide it, he's moving!" Again, these are not words that will elicit warm fuzzies of security in my mind. I snapped my eyes open and half shouted "Hide what? What are you into?"
There was a moments scramble as something was hidden under a blanket. Since I'm blind, I couldn't see what it was, but images of broken things, stuff covered in sticky goo, and anything involving a pair of siscors seemed to be the mental slideshow for the moment. I jumped up from the couch and pulled the blanket off of them for the big reveal, and found...
The jar of peanut butter.
Since there wasn't any smeared on anything (yet), I figure that I just dodged a MAJOR bullet. I pulled it away from them (accompanied by various cries and pleas of No! and Mine!).
I took it back into the kitchen and noticed one, single, perfect, runt finger sized swipe through the midle of the jar. I turned and knelt down by Reaggers and grabbed her hands. "If I smell peanut butter on these fingers, I'll know it was you that swiped the peanut butter!"
I got nothing and said "C'mere Bub, your next!" and as he was walking toward me Peff says "Um, I'm gonna go wash my hands for lunch..."
Then he took off down the stairs.
Busted!!!
Another New Type of Post
I keep getting ideas for new categories of posts. Thinking about Peff's classic "Don't call people names, you Nerd!" made me think of all the other ridiculous things that I have heard/said to my children over the years.
Everyday I hear a new one. Today Peff fired off this keeper:
Peff: "Guess what, guys? I had an awesomest dream!"
Reaggers: "What was it?"
Peff: "I don't want to talk about it."
Some of my other all time favorites:
Primary Teacher: "Do Moms and Dads love each other?"
Five year old Moe: "No. My parents hate each other."
or:
Four year old Moe: "Today we learned about Jesus and the Blonde man."
Fatdaddy: "Are you sure it wasn't the blind man?"
Moe: "No! He was blonde! But he couldn't see."
Fatdaddy: "How many times do I have to ask you not to drink the bath water?"
If you have a moment, share your best "out of the mouths of babes" stories in the comments and we'll gather them up and post them into a new category.
I think I'm going to call it Speaking the Angels Tongue.
Everyday I hear a new one. Today Peff fired off this keeper:
Peff: "Guess what, guys? I had an awesomest dream!"
Reaggers: "What was it?"
Peff: "I don't want to talk about it."
Some of my other all time favorites:
Primary Teacher: "Do Moms and Dads love each other?"
Five year old Moe: "No. My parents hate each other."
or:
Four year old Moe: "Today we learned about Jesus and the Blonde man."
Fatdaddy: "Are you sure it wasn't the blind man?"
Moe: "No! He was blonde! But he couldn't see."
Fatdaddy: "How many times do I have to ask you not to drink the bath water?"
If you have a moment, share your best "out of the mouths of babes" stories in the comments and we'll gather them up and post them into a new category.
I think I'm going to call it Speaking the Angels Tongue.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
When I Realized I'm Nuts
Couldn't let the day pass without something.
Beak took the kids today so me and the Boss could go out for a little. We went to lunch and a movie, and it was really nice to get out of the house. But the first thing we did was go to the bookstore, and that was when I had the epiphany that I am cuckoo. I know, I know. This is not news to ANY of you. But it was news to me.
At one point during our perusal of Barnes and Noble, it dawned upon me that I was seriously considering the pros and cons of spending ten bucks on either the Far Side Anthology or Milton's Paradise Lost. I would be willing to bet that I am the only person in the universe that held Far Side cartoons in one hand and one of the English language's masterworks in the other and wondered which was worthier of my time and money. It was seriously a toss up.
After three pages of Far Sides, I was in tears, they were so funny. Then I read the first stanzas of Paradise Lost and discovered two additional things. First, my mind is definitely craving something a little heavier than Far Side. And second, since the last thing I finished was Ulysses, it needed to be a little less heavy than Milton.
I settled on Hemingway since he was one of the guys that used to pal around with James Joyce in Paris and they have a lot of the same themes and influences. Besides, I haven't read Farewell to Arms in about 10 years and I forgot how good it is. I also grabbed Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray because I haven't read that yet and the Boss says it's worth it. Hopefully a little good reading material will help keep me sane.
Tonight, we found ourselves at the instacare, as the Eldest has gotten another infection on her ankle and it was swollen to about double. The doc gave her some antibiotics and said she'd be alright in a day or two; though she gets to stay home from school tomorrow so I'll have a little help with the kids in the morning.
Lastly, be sure to check out the new feature, a poll! If it works the way I want it to, we'll get to vote on next weeks baking day treats.
Thanks for spending a little time reading my nonsense. I appreciate those of you who have shown support by following the blog or by posting comments. I look forward to seeing the responses you offer and I hope that I don't disappoint.
Beak took the kids today so me and the Boss could go out for a little. We went to lunch and a movie, and it was really nice to get out of the house. But the first thing we did was go to the bookstore, and that was when I had the epiphany that I am cuckoo. I know, I know. This is not news to ANY of you. But it was news to me.
At one point during our perusal of Barnes and Noble, it dawned upon me that I was seriously considering the pros and cons of spending ten bucks on either the Far Side Anthology or Milton's Paradise Lost. I would be willing to bet that I am the only person in the universe that held Far Side cartoons in one hand and one of the English language's masterworks in the other and wondered which was worthier of my time and money. It was seriously a toss up.
After three pages of Far Sides, I was in tears, they were so funny. Then I read the first stanzas of Paradise Lost and discovered two additional things. First, my mind is definitely craving something a little heavier than Far Side. And second, since the last thing I finished was Ulysses, it needed to be a little less heavy than Milton.
I settled on Hemingway since he was one of the guys that used to pal around with James Joyce in Paris and they have a lot of the same themes and influences. Besides, I haven't read Farewell to Arms in about 10 years and I forgot how good it is. I also grabbed Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray because I haven't read that yet and the Boss says it's worth it. Hopefully a little good reading material will help keep me sane.
Tonight, we found ourselves at the instacare, as the Eldest has gotten another infection on her ankle and it was swollen to about double. The doc gave her some antibiotics and said she'd be alright in a day or two; though she gets to stay home from school tomorrow so I'll have a little help with the kids in the morning.
Lastly, be sure to check out the new feature, a poll! If it works the way I want it to, we'll get to vote on next weeks baking day treats.
Thanks for spending a little time reading my nonsense. I appreciate those of you who have shown support by following the blog or by posting comments. I look forward to seeing the responses you offer and I hope that I don't disappoint.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Chocolate Chip Cookies
1 cup butter
1 cup Crisco
(or 2 cups of one)
1 1/2 cup white sugar
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp Vanilla extract
1 tsp Almond or Mint extract
5-6 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp salt
1 bag choc, peanut butter, butterscotch or white chocolate chips
Cream the butter, Crisco and sugar in the mixer. When well blended add the eggs vanilla and almond or mint extract.
In a separate bowl mix the flour, soda and salt.
Turn the mixer on low and add the flour mix in about a cup at a time. Dough should still be a little sticky when ready.
Stir in chips by hand, roll dough into balls a little smaller than a ping-pong ball. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 deg for 8 to 10 minutes.
Like the sugar cookies, less is better. Pull them when they first start to turn a little dark and they will finish browning on the cooling rack. One of my all time favorite things to bake.
How Much Fun Is Too Much Fun?
The oven is off and the great chocolate chip cookie bake off is over!
Last night I got a call from one of my good friends in the ward. He had a work thing this afternoon and needed a babysitter for his kids, a boy (5) and a daughter (3).
"Why not?" said I. "Bring 'em on over, the more the merrier!" Of course that meant that from 8 to 1 I had Squizzle, Peff, Reaggers, Bub, Motor, and my buddy's two. If nothing else it'd supply me with some stories.
Seven dwarfs(do NOT call me Snow White), all under the age of five. And hey, since it's Wednesday,it's baking day.
Who wants cookies?
First, let me explain the logistics of this little disaster in waiting. Have you ever tried to wash seven kids hands and then monitor them to make sure that fingers do not go into noses, mouths, ears or elsewhere? It took ten minutes just to get that done. I quickly came to the conclusion that it was best to do this in shifts, so I sent Pef, Motor, and Bub to watch cartoons while the baby sat in his high chair and the other kids helped measure, mix and roll. Then when it was time for the next batch, we switched.
I think I kind of hurt Motor's feelings a bit. He is used to getting to do a lot more than today, and he told me he was feeling left out. I felt bad and promised him that next time there would not be such a crowd.
I kept a piece of paper and pen handy, because I knew I was going to get some gems and I was not disappointed. Here are some of the better ones:
Reaggers: "Bub is eating the butter!"
(He really was. He had unwrapped a stick and bit the end of the cube off. Probably at least a tablespoon's worth.)
Neighbor Boy: "Fluffy flour equals fluffy cookies!"
(And that, my fellow chefs, is why we sift the flour. Bet you didn't know that. I didn't.)
Neighbor Boy quote #2: You can't eat that dough, there's raw eggs in it!
(At this point I'm really glad I made everyone wash their hands. What do five year olds know about food safety? I guess a lot. Where do kids this age learn this stuff?)
And last but not least (In fact, my favorite line of the day)
Peff: "Don't call people names, you Nerd!"
How am I supposed to respond to that?
Then, when I was cleaning up the dishes, Peff and the neighbor girl were jumping off of the love seat (how many times do I have to say "stop that"?) and Peff head-bonked the poor girl. She got a little bit of a nose bleed, so I brought her into the kitchen, cleaned her up and asked what would make her feel better.
"Drink" she said.
That's easy. "Milk or water?" I ask.
"Milk"
"OK. Let me pour you some." I opened the fridge and she saw a bottle of root beer on the shelf next to the milk.
"No! Root beer! Root beer! Root beer! Root beer better!" she shouts.
It was like someone shouted "Free Clearasil!" at a Poindexter convention. All of them, and I mean all of them, were instantly in the kitchen begging for root beer.
And that's how an entire 2 liter of root beer found itself emptied into the gullets of seven dwarfs. It was worth it.
I'm so glad I get tomorrow off. Enjoy the recipe, I'll post pics if I can find the cable that connects my camera to my laptop.
I Should've Gone to Harmon's
WooHoo!!! New followers! Welcome to the madness!
Funny story from last night before we start today. The Boss came home and told me that I looked like I needed to get out of the house for a bit. I agreed and had to get chocolate chips anyway so I said "Let's go to the store."
"Harmon's or Walmart?" she asked.
"Walmart" I said confidently, thinking of the delicious canisters of sugar free cool ade that fuel my day now that I have quasi-given up soda. Oh, to get that choice back!
We left the kids with the Eldest with strict instructions not to play with the hot water heater, gasoline, or matches and to please keep the baby from floor grazing. Got to Walmart, made our customary pipe-dream walk through the high def TV corner and then started across the back of the store toward the groceries.
"Wait a second" said the Boss, pausing. "I want to go look at patterns for the Kid's Christmas Pajamas."
Every year for as long as we've had kids, the Boss has made them a new pair of PJ's that they get to wear Christmas Eve.
Ever aware of the surveillance team that the Man Police have tailing me, I really don't want to go down that aisle, but she's the Boss. I love her more than I fear the Man Police so down the aisle I go. Naturally, the aisle is blocked by little old grandmas buying lace for doilies or some such, and I can't get the cart past. The Boss, with the grace and speed of Walter Payton slipping between the center and the guard, left me in the dirt.
Well I am a chivalrous fella, so I waited for those nice ladies to finish what they were doing and then proceeded down the now empty aisle. Of course that is the exact second that a Walmart fabric employee turns the corner to find a 6 foot 350 pound bearded bald guy walking alone down the bricabrac aisle of her store.
She looked at me as if I were wearing a flowery sun dress and a floppy hat covered in tropical fruit. I swear she smirked at me. I just wanted to crawl under the tile.
As soon as I got to the end of the row, I was confronted by the angry images of Jerry Sloan and Vince Lombardi who demanded that I turn over my man card immediately.
Come on! This wasn't my fault! It wasn't fair!
So I got mad. And I gambled like a poker player with a ten two off suit facing a pair of Aces. I told them angrily were they could put the card IF they could take it from me. My mock bravado seemed to convince them that I still had more testosterone than estrogen; even if I was kinda doubting it myself. They let me off with a warning. I turned the corner and found the Boss looking at patterns with a huge smile.
"We should have gone to Harmon's" I sheepishly told her.
"Oh, no!" she said. "Just look how cute these nighties are!"
Behind her, Vince and Jerry frowned.
Funny story from last night before we start today. The Boss came home and told me that I looked like I needed to get out of the house for a bit. I agreed and had to get chocolate chips anyway so I said "Let's go to the store."
"Harmon's or Walmart?" she asked.
"Walmart" I said confidently, thinking of the delicious canisters of sugar free cool ade that fuel my day now that I have quasi-given up soda. Oh, to get that choice back!
We left the kids with the Eldest with strict instructions not to play with the hot water heater, gasoline, or matches and to please keep the baby from floor grazing. Got to Walmart, made our customary pipe-dream walk through the high def TV corner and then started across the back of the store toward the groceries.
"Wait a second" said the Boss, pausing. "I want to go look at patterns for the Kid's Christmas Pajamas."
Every year for as long as we've had kids, the Boss has made them a new pair of PJ's that they get to wear Christmas Eve.
Ever aware of the surveillance team that the Man Police have tailing me, I really don't want to go down that aisle, but she's the Boss. I love her more than I fear the Man Police so down the aisle I go. Naturally, the aisle is blocked by little old grandmas buying lace for doilies or some such, and I can't get the cart past. The Boss, with the grace and speed of Walter Payton slipping between the center and the guard, left me in the dirt.
Well I am a chivalrous fella, so I waited for those nice ladies to finish what they were doing and then proceeded down the now empty aisle. Of course that is the exact second that a Walmart fabric employee turns the corner to find a 6 foot 350 pound bearded bald guy walking alone down the bricabrac aisle of her store.
She looked at me as if I were wearing a flowery sun dress and a floppy hat covered in tropical fruit. I swear she smirked at me. I just wanted to crawl under the tile.
As soon as I got to the end of the row, I was confronted by the angry images of Jerry Sloan and Vince Lombardi who demanded that I turn over my man card immediately.
Come on! This wasn't my fault! It wasn't fair!
So I got mad. And I gambled like a poker player with a ten two off suit facing a pair of Aces. I told them angrily were they could put the card IF they could take it from me. My mock bravado seemed to convince them that I still had more testosterone than estrogen; even if I was kinda doubting it myself. They let me off with a warning. I turned the corner and found the Boss looking at patterns with a huge smile.
"We should have gone to Harmon's" I sheepishly told her.
"Oh, no!" she said. "Just look how cute these nighties are!"
Behind her, Vince and Jerry frowned.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Why Destroying Angels?
I have a very firm belief that when God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, He sent five year olds. No doubt in my mind. There is no more destructive force in the universe than a five year old. And when you gather them in groups, the sum of their destruction is more than the parts. They are indestructible.
Noah's Flood? A couple of toddlers in a bathtub, splashing for all they have. You wouldn't think that two inches of water in the tub translates into a foot and a half of water on the bathroom floor (and down the heat vent), but it does. Get a couple tub loads together, and suddenly Noah is VERY happy he has a boat.
The Walls of Jericho? The Lord just sent 30 or so five year olds into the city after letting them eat all their Halloween candy in one sitting and letting them stay up all night so they are sleep deprived. I'm telling you, those walls didn't fall down, they were pulled down by the people inside who couldn't wait for a gate to get away from that racket.
The toughest part of being a stay at home dad/ shiftless layabout has been discovering just how much constant supervision is required to just keep the house from collapsing. I clean a room, move to the next and by the time I go back, the first room looks like I never went in to begin with. It's impossible to keep up with.
When I tell Mom my daily tales of woe, she laughs and usually has a story that is nearly identical to what I've just told her from when I was a kid. Every parent has Destroying Angel stories, so I figured that I'd write mine down. Feel free to add your own tales of destruction to the comment sections when you get time, because I can use the sympathy and the laughs. Not to mention, I'm curious as H#!! if anyone is actually reading this stuff.
Noah's Flood? A couple of toddlers in a bathtub, splashing for all they have. You wouldn't think that two inches of water in the tub translates into a foot and a half of water on the bathroom floor (and down the heat vent), but it does. Get a couple tub loads together, and suddenly Noah is VERY happy he has a boat.
The Walls of Jericho? The Lord just sent 30 or so five year olds into the city after letting them eat all their Halloween candy in one sitting and letting them stay up all night so they are sleep deprived. I'm telling you, those walls didn't fall down, they were pulled down by the people inside who couldn't wait for a gate to get away from that racket.
The toughest part of being a stay at home dad/ shiftless layabout has been discovering just how much constant supervision is required to just keep the house from collapsing. I clean a room, move to the next and by the time I go back, the first room looks like I never went in to begin with. It's impossible to keep up with.
When I tell Mom my daily tales of woe, she laughs and usually has a story that is nearly identical to what I've just told her from when I was a kid. Every parent has Destroying Angel stories, so I figured that I'd write mine down. Feel free to add your own tales of destruction to the comment sections when you get time, because I can use the sympathy and the laughs. Not to mention, I'm curious as H#!! if anyone is actually reading this stuff.
Bill Cosby is a Liar
Something in the air today. The funny just keeps coming.
You'd think that I never feed these monkeys. They say to me:
"I'm hungry!" ( Mom takes this statement as an opportunity to say "Nice to meet you, Hungry!" My kids laugh even less than I used to, though I admit its funny now).
They also try:
"Make us something to eat" (Mom, raising her magic wand, would say, "You are something to eat. Poof!" The runts usually scowl).
This morning it has been "What else can we eat?" (I got nothing wise for that one, so the rest of this is all mom's fault).
After feeding them granola bars, milk, fruit snacks and whatever they could scavenge when I wasn't looking, they are obviously minutes from starvation. And so here they are, every five minutes like baby birds "peep!peep!peep! What's to eat?"
Fine, I give. "What do you think you should get to eat?" Without skipping a beat, Reaggers says to me "Chocolate cake!" and Peff spouts "and vanilla ice cream!"
Fine. Whatever. It worked for Bill Cosby, right? So with images of the kids prancing around the kitchen singing "Dad is great! Feeds us chocolate cake! Dad is great!" floating around my head, I give up and get them each a small slice of cake and a drop of ice cream.
Do they sing my praises? No.
Dance in my honor? No.
They didn't even say thanks.
Bill Cosby is full of it.
You'd think that I never feed these monkeys. They say to me:
"I'm hungry!" ( Mom takes this statement as an opportunity to say "Nice to meet you, Hungry!" My kids laugh even less than I used to, though I admit its funny now).
They also try:
"Make us something to eat" (Mom, raising her magic wand, would say, "You are something to eat. Poof!" The runts usually scowl).
This morning it has been "What else can we eat?" (I got nothing wise for that one, so the rest of this is all mom's fault).
After feeding them granola bars, milk, fruit snacks and whatever they could scavenge when I wasn't looking, they are obviously minutes from starvation. And so here they are, every five minutes like baby birds "peep!peep!peep! What's to eat?"
Fine, I give. "What do you think you should get to eat?" Without skipping a beat, Reaggers says to me "Chocolate cake!" and Peff spouts "and vanilla ice cream!"
Fine. Whatever. It worked for Bill Cosby, right? So with images of the kids prancing around the kitchen singing "Dad is great! Feeds us chocolate cake! Dad is great!" floating around my head, I give up and get them each a small slice of cake and a drop of ice cream.
Do they sing my praises? No.
Dance in my honor? No.
They didn't even say thanks.
Bill Cosby is full of it.
Man Card Revoked, Jump rope, and the Best Question Ever
Woke up this morning and realized this thing was starting to look like a home ec page. Not what I had in mind. I'm already keeping a close eye out for the Man Police anyway. I don't need any more trouble with those guys. Last week I was baking sugar cookies with Moe, the Boss was at work, and the Eldest was in the living room watching that "Project Runway" nonsense.
I stopped.
Wife at work. Cookies baking. Project Runway? Not good. If I had a heart attack and died and they found me like that...I didn't want to think about it. So I finished the cookies, kicked the Runts outside and watched two solid hours of "UFC Unleashed" while scratching and swearing and eating pretzels. They aren't getting my Man Card unless they pry it from my cold, dead fingers!!
Back to what the blog looks like. I have discovered that all new posts go to the top of the page, so if anyone new shows up, they have to scroll to the bottom and work their way up to stay chronological. This annoys me (as I'm sure it does you), but everything I've tried to do to change it has not worked. Remind me why I hate techno-crap? Anyone familiar with this type of blog that knows how to fix that would earn my respect and admiration.
Now this is why I started this Blog. It isn't even 9:00 am yet and the Monkeys are already at full throttle. Beak had to work early (more on that in a sec), so the kids are here. They're "jumping rope". Peff is holding one end, Reaggers has the other end, and Bub is standing in the middle, holding the rope at his side and jumping as fast as he can while moving the rope up and down.
They're laughing like a pack of hyenas. At least they aren't trying to eat each others livers. I love my life. I really do.
This morning has been the perfect storm for blog material. The Boss has an inspection next week, so she's burning the candle at three ends and had to be out the door at 7. Beak got here at 7:30, and Ma (may blessings be upon her) was coming at 8 to take the girls to school. I had to get the girls dressed, the baby changed and fed, lunches made, bags gathered up, and the Eldest had a bit of homework to finish, all before 8.
So I'm changing the baby and I notice that it is awfully quiet. Reaggers, Bub and Peff are sitting on the couch watching toons, Puzilla is getting all the bags gathered up, Moe is packing lunches (might be scary), and the Eldest is actually doing her homework.
No one is fighting, whining, or screeching at me to change a channel or find a shoe. I, of course do not believe such things as "order". I say to them, "Wow. Should I expect a heart attack or the end of the world?"
Puzey looks up at me and with her perfectly squeaky mouse voice says, "Daddy, if it was really the end of the world, do you think the Eldest would bother with math home work?"
Best Question Ever!!!
I stopped.
Wife at work. Cookies baking. Project Runway? Not good. If I had a heart attack and died and they found me like that...I didn't want to think about it. So I finished the cookies, kicked the Runts outside and watched two solid hours of "UFC Unleashed" while scratching and swearing and eating pretzels. They aren't getting my Man Card unless they pry it from my cold, dead fingers!!
Back to what the blog looks like. I have discovered that all new posts go to the top of the page, so if anyone new shows up, they have to scroll to the bottom and work their way up to stay chronological. This annoys me (as I'm sure it does you), but everything I've tried to do to change it has not worked. Remind me why I hate techno-crap? Anyone familiar with this type of blog that knows how to fix that would earn my respect and admiration.
Now this is why I started this Blog. It isn't even 9:00 am yet and the Monkeys are already at full throttle. Beak had to work early (more on that in a sec), so the kids are here. They're "jumping rope". Peff is holding one end, Reaggers has the other end, and Bub is standing in the middle, holding the rope at his side and jumping as fast as he can while moving the rope up and down.
They're laughing like a pack of hyenas. At least they aren't trying to eat each others livers. I love my life. I really do.
This morning has been the perfect storm for blog material. The Boss has an inspection next week, so she's burning the candle at three ends and had to be out the door at 7. Beak got here at 7:30, and Ma (may blessings be upon her) was coming at 8 to take the girls to school. I had to get the girls dressed, the baby changed and fed, lunches made, bags gathered up, and the Eldest had a bit of homework to finish, all before 8.
So I'm changing the baby and I notice that it is awfully quiet. Reaggers, Bub and Peff are sitting on the couch watching toons, Puzilla is getting all the bags gathered up, Moe is packing lunches (might be scary), and the Eldest is actually doing her homework.
No one is fighting, whining, or screeching at me to change a channel or find a shoe. I, of course do not believe such things as "order". I say to them, "Wow. Should I expect a heart attack or the end of the world?"
Puzey looks up at me and with her perfectly squeaky mouse voice says, "Daddy, if it was really the end of the world, do you think the Eldest would bother with math home work?"
Best Question Ever!!!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sugar Free Lemon Meringue Pie
Ingredients
Filling
1/4 c cornstarch
2 T flour
1 1/2 c Splenda sugar substitute
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 c boiling water
4 eggs, separated (save whites for meringue)
1/3 c lemon juice
3 T butter
1/2 tsp lemon zest
1 9-inch baked pie shell
Meringue
1 T cornstarch
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 c Splenda
1 tsp vanilla
4 egg whites from above
Directions
Mix cornstarch, flour, Splenda, and salt in top of a double boiler. Add boiling water and blend with whisk thoroughly. Cook over boiling water, stirring constantly until mixture is thick and clear.
Beat egg yolks and stir in a little of the hot mixture to temper. Pour back into double boiler and cook two minutes longer, constantly stirring.
Remove from heat; slowly add lemon juice, butter and lemon zest. Mix well.
Pour into cooled pie shell. Let cool while preparing meringue.
For meringue, place room temperature egg whites in a medium bowl. Beat on high with electric mixer, using whisk attachment, until frothy. Add cornstarch, cream of tartar, Splenda and vanilla. Beat on high speed until slightly stiff peaks begin to form.
Swirl over pie filling so it touches edges of crust and completely covers filling.
Bake at 350 for 12-15 min or until meringue is golden brown. Cool completely before cutting. Store any leftover pie in fridge to prevent any food-borne illness.
Filling
1/4 c cornstarch
2 T flour
1 1/2 c Splenda sugar substitute
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 c boiling water
4 eggs, separated (save whites for meringue)
1/3 c lemon juice
3 T butter
1/2 tsp lemon zest
1 9-inch baked pie shell
Meringue
1 T cornstarch
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 c Splenda
1 tsp vanilla
4 egg whites from above
Directions
Mix cornstarch, flour, Splenda, and salt in top of a double boiler. Add boiling water and blend with whisk thoroughly. Cook over boiling water, stirring constantly until mixture is thick and clear.
Beat egg yolks and stir in a little of the hot mixture to temper. Pour back into double boiler and cook two minutes longer, constantly stirring.
Remove from heat; slowly add lemon juice, butter and lemon zest. Mix well.
Pour into cooled pie shell. Let cool while preparing meringue.
For meringue, place room temperature egg whites in a medium bowl. Beat on high with electric mixer, using whisk attachment, until frothy. Add cornstarch, cream of tartar, Splenda and vanilla. Beat on high speed until slightly stiff peaks begin to form.
Swirl over pie filling so it touches edges of crust and completely covers filling.
Bake at 350 for 12-15 min or until meringue is golden brown. Cool completely before cutting. Store any leftover pie in fridge to prevent any food-borne illness.
Sugar Cookies
Ingredients
1 1/2 c. butter, softened
2 c sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
5 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
Directions
Cream butter and sugar together. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix well. Stir together all dry ingredients. Slowly add dry ingredients to wet stirring well after each addition and scraping sides of bowl. Cover and chill for 1-2 hours or overnight. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut dough into 4 sections. Work with one at a time and keep others chilled. Roll out 1/4-1/2 inch thick. (thicker is better) Cut into shapes as desired. Place on greased cookie sheet and bake 6-8 minutes or until edges are barely brown. If bottoms brown they are overdone. Less is more with these cookies especialy if you love soft sugar cookies. Frost as desired.
****** Fatdaddy's note******
Frosting these is where the fun is. Give each monkey a plastic knife and let 'em go. Just keep the washcloths handy! We made these in October for Halloween. Cut some of 'em to look like ghosts and then frosted them with white.
That was boring, though, so Motor decided he wanted to put red sprinkles on his. It made them look like CSI ghosts. White sheets with blood splatters. I should have taken pictures.
1 1/2 c. butter, softened
2 c sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
5 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
Directions
Cream butter and sugar together. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix well. Stir together all dry ingredients. Slowly add dry ingredients to wet stirring well after each addition and scraping sides of bowl. Cover and chill for 1-2 hours or overnight. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut dough into 4 sections. Work with one at a time and keep others chilled. Roll out 1/4-1/2 inch thick. (thicker is better) Cut into shapes as desired. Place on greased cookie sheet and bake 6-8 minutes or until edges are barely brown. If bottoms brown they are overdone. Less is more with these cookies especialy if you love soft sugar cookies. Frost as desired.
****** Fatdaddy's note******
Frosting these is where the fun is. Give each monkey a plastic knife and let 'em go. Just keep the washcloths handy! We made these in October for Halloween. Cut some of 'em to look like ghosts and then frosted them with white.
That was boring, though, so Motor decided he wanted to put red sprinkles on his. It made them look like CSI ghosts. White sheets with blood splatters. I should have taken pictures.
Easy Pie Crust
Ingredients
1 1/2 c flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c cold butter (1 stick)
2T sour cream
2T sugar (optional)
Directions
Combine all ingredients in food processor. Process until dough begins to form and will hold when pinched between your fingers. Spray a 9 or 10 inch pie pan with non0stick cooking spray. Empty dough into pie pan and press onto sides and bottom of pan. Prick with fork. For shell bake at 350 for 15-20 mins or until lightly browned, otherwise fill as desired and bake according to recipe.
1 1/2 c flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c cold butter (1 stick)
2T sour cream
2T sugar (optional)
Directions
Combine all ingredients in food processor. Process until dough begins to form and will hold when pinched between your fingers. Spray a 9 or 10 inch pie pan with non0stick cooking spray. Empty dough into pie pan and press onto sides and bottom of pan. Prick with fork. For shell bake at 350 for 15-20 mins or until lightly browned, otherwise fill as desired and bake according to recipe.
Famous Pumpkin Pie
Ingredients
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 lg eggs
1 15oz can pure pumpkin
1 12oz can evaporated milk
1 unbaked 9-inch deep dish pie shell
Whipped cream (optional)
Directions
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Mix sugar, cinnamon, salt, ginger and cloves in a small bowl. Beat eggs in a large bowl. Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture. Can be mixed in electric mixer. Gradually stir in evaporated milk. Pour into pie shell.
Bake at 425 for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 degrees and continue baking for 40-50minutes or until a knife comes out clean. Cool for 2 hours. Serve immediately with whipped cream if desired.
******Fatdaddy's Note******
Snaked this one from off the can of Libby's Pumpkin. Good stuff. Funny story from when me and Motor and Peff baked it. We had all the ingredients in the mix master, and had locked it down while it mixed. I turned the mixer off and turned to grab the rubber scraper from Motor. I went back to the mixer and unlocked it to pull the bowl off. Except I'm blind and distracted, and instead of flipping the unlock switch, I turned the thing back on. Full speed. Suddenly.
Not Good.
Anybody old enough to remember that Danny Ainge Meadow Gold commercial from the 80's when he was making the milkshake and the kid turned on the blender without the lid? Yeah, it was about like that, except with pumpkin. I don't reccomend that particular move when trying this recipe.
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 lg eggs
1 15oz can pure pumpkin
1 12oz can evaporated milk
1 unbaked 9-inch deep dish pie shell
Whipped cream (optional)
Directions
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Mix sugar, cinnamon, salt, ginger and cloves in a small bowl. Beat eggs in a large bowl. Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture. Can be mixed in electric mixer. Gradually stir in evaporated milk. Pour into pie shell.
Bake at 425 for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 degrees and continue baking for 40-50minutes or until a knife comes out clean. Cool for 2 hours. Serve immediately with whipped cream if desired.
******Fatdaddy's Note******
Snaked this one from off the can of Libby's Pumpkin. Good stuff. Funny story from when me and Motor and Peff baked it. We had all the ingredients in the mix master, and had locked it down while it mixed. I turned the mixer off and turned to grab the rubber scraper from Motor. I went back to the mixer and unlocked it to pull the bowl off. Except I'm blind and distracted, and instead of flipping the unlock switch, I turned the thing back on. Full speed. Suddenly.
Not Good.
Anybody old enough to remember that Danny Ainge Meadow Gold commercial from the 80's when he was making the milkshake and the kid turned on the blender without the lid? Yeah, it was about like that, except with pumpkin. I don't reccomend that particular move when trying this recipe.
Appetite for Destruction
Every Wednesday, when the eldest, Moe, and Puzey are at school, I watch my brother R's little boy (we'll call him Motor) who is about the same age as Peff. Motor and Peff look enough alike that my bad eyes usually can't tell them apart. Since they are both stuck at home while their sisters are at school, I got the brilliant idea of getting them together for an afternoon. And hey, while we are at it, why not bake some cookies or something.
While I have not yet qualified for the Darwin Award, I am currently nominated for the "Man So Dumb We Are Not Able to Figure Out How His Heart Keeps Beating" award. Two five year old boys trying to bake cookies with a blind man has provided most of the ammunition I will be firing at these Blog pages.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I started watching my little sister Beak's two kids, "Raeggers" (4) and her brother "Bub" who is 3. It has multiplied the fun exponentially!
Anyway, I am going to post the recipes and maybe some photos of the carnage....er...I mean the cuisine, in a section I like to call "Appetite for Destruction." Look for new recipes every Wednesday!!
While I have not yet qualified for the Darwin Award, I am currently nominated for the "Man So Dumb We Are Not Able to Figure Out How His Heart Keeps Beating" award. Two five year old boys trying to bake cookies with a blind man has provided most of the ammunition I will be firing at these Blog pages.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I started watching my little sister Beak's two kids, "Raeggers" (4) and her brother "Bub" who is 3. It has multiplied the fun exponentially!
Anyway, I am going to post the recipes and maybe some photos of the carnage....er...I mean the cuisine, in a section I like to call "Appetite for Destruction." Look for new recipes every Wednesday!!
How this is going to work
Alright. I'm not about to start pasting my real name all over the Internet (What if someone actually reads this and decides I'm not employable?), so forget about my kids names. I'm gonna use nicknames and if you don't like it, tough.
If you do happen to know real names, (Who's gonna read this that doesn't?) please be courteous enough to use the nicknames when replying. If you're not sure who's who at first, call me and I'll tell you. You're all smart, you'll get it quick.
I'm Fatdaddy, shiftless layabout and cheap daycare provider. I have a degree in English, fifteen years on a forklift, and few other marketable skills. My stated goal is to teach high school English and coach wrestling, but my secret desire is to make a dumptruck full of money as a writer.
My sainted wife is the "Boss". She is the "Boss" because she pays for everything, not because she tells me what to do. She also runs a fast food restaurant and so she really is the "Boss" to a lot of other half intelligent, barely employable people. Maybe it's why she puts up with me.
Our oldest daughter (12) will be known as the "Eldest" simply because she has no real nickname. If you have a good one for her, we'll use it. Maybe turn it into a contest or something.
Daughter number 2 is Moe (9).
Daughter number 3 is Puzey or Puzilla (7). Don't ask.
Number 1 son is Peff (5). Its a longer story than Puzey.
Son number 2 is Squizzle (9 months).
My siblings will be referred to by their first initial with the notable exception of Beak, cause that one is too easy. Beak is my youngest sister and has ALWAYS been Beak.
I provide daycare services for Beak and her two kids, Bub (boy, age 3), and Reaggers (girl, age 4)
My parents are Mom and Dad, while the Boss's parents are Ma and Pop.
We'll figure out the rest as we go. If anybody gets lost, remember who your buddy is.
If you do happen to know real names, (Who's gonna read this that doesn't?) please be courteous enough to use the nicknames when replying. If you're not sure who's who at first, call me and I'll tell you. You're all smart, you'll get it quick.
I'm Fatdaddy, shiftless layabout and cheap daycare provider. I have a degree in English, fifteen years on a forklift, and few other marketable skills. My stated goal is to teach high school English and coach wrestling, but my secret desire is to make a dumptruck full of money as a writer.
My sainted wife is the "Boss". She is the "Boss" because she pays for everything, not because she tells me what to do. She also runs a fast food restaurant and so she really is the "Boss" to a lot of other half intelligent, barely employable people. Maybe it's why she puts up with me.
Our oldest daughter (12) will be known as the "Eldest" simply because she has no real nickname. If you have a good one for her, we'll use it. Maybe turn it into a contest or something.
Daughter number 2 is Moe (9).
Daughter number 3 is Puzey or Puzilla (7). Don't ask.
Number 1 son is Peff (5). Its a longer story than Puzey.
Son number 2 is Squizzle (9 months).
My siblings will be referred to by their first initial with the notable exception of Beak, cause that one is too easy. Beak is my youngest sister and has ALWAYS been Beak.
I provide daycare services for Beak and her two kids, Bub (boy, age 3), and Reaggers (girl, age 4)
My parents are Mom and Dad, while the Boss's parents are Ma and Pop.
We'll figure out the rest as we go. If anybody gets lost, remember who your buddy is.
It Had to Happen
I am the first to admit this is probably a very bad idea. I hate techno-crap. If I ever Twitter, I pray it becomes the last noise I ever make. I'll go on Facebook about fifteen minutes after I cheer for the University of Utah, and that is flat NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.
So why a blog?
Simple. I was running up a massive cell phone bill laughing about the insane things my children and their cousins were doing to me. Sharing them this way is easier for everyone and I don't have to call mom every half hour to make her laugh. Besides, I have a perfectly good degree in English that is going completely to pot. I can sharpen my writing skills and if enough people think this stuff is any good, I'll start running ads and see if I can make a cheap buck.
And here it is. If you don't like it, don't read it. If nothing else, It'll serve as a poorly worded journal for any of my children that accidentaly survive my poor parenting.
So why a blog?
Simple. I was running up a massive cell phone bill laughing about the insane things my children and their cousins were doing to me. Sharing them this way is easier for everyone and I don't have to call mom every half hour to make her laugh. Besides, I have a perfectly good degree in English that is going completely to pot. I can sharpen my writing skills and if enough people think this stuff is any good, I'll start running ads and see if I can make a cheap buck.
And here it is. If you don't like it, don't read it. If nothing else, It'll serve as a poorly worded journal for any of my children that accidentaly survive my poor parenting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)