Cold Spaghetti

After 16 plus years of being a strict vegetarian (only occasionally would he even eat Lucky Charms), Paul began to eat meat again around the time that Kate was born.

Having already given up vegetarianism a few months before (uncontrollable anemia during my pregnancy was the catalyst — that, and I’d already re-introduced the entryway drug, fish, into my diet when we moved to New Orleans), I didn’t think that there would be a huge change in our eating habits. After all, I was eating meat again and it didn’t seem like a big change.

But Paul. Wow, Paul. When that boy fell off the wagon, he fell off HARD. Now, his life is neatly summed up in this xkcd chart:

Paul is the bacon-cook of the house (I showed no talent for this particular skill early on and formally resigned those duties), so the 1% of the time Paul cooks, it’s bacon. He cooks a pound of it in a pot (“it’s the way they did it in the Grand Canyon”) and then proceeds to eat the entire pot, using a spatula to scoop out any missed crumbles at the bottom.

The upside to this is that now I have ideas on what to get him for Christmas. I thought that I was on track for a non-cholesterol-raising holiday. Then we had this (censored) conversation this morning:

“So, I think the present that I want to give you is going to go down in price after Christmas. How do you feel about exchanging presents later?”

“When I asked you to play a Wii, I wasn’t suggesting you buy anything.”

[Side note: Did I mention that Paul likes to search my computer for signs of what I’m trying to get him for Christmas?]

“[edited] Fine, then. No presents for you, gift spoiler.”

He completely spoiled my surprise, but how can I not have something special for him on Christmas morning? Something more exciting than the socks that currently represent the sum total of what Paul will receive from his loving wife and children. Then it occurred to me: I can bestow upon my favorite meat-eater the gift of bacon! Here are some bacon ideas I’ve found.

Uncle Oinker’s Bacon Mints. “Just for the sheer joy of handing someone a bacon flavored mint!”

Bacon Scented Bacon Print Tuxedo. “You can get married in bacon, get confirmed in bacon or go to the Oscars in bacon!”

Bacon Flavored Toothpicks. “Arm yourself with invigorating pig freshness and the confidence that you can take on the world.”

Maple Bacon Morning Coffee. “Reminiscent of a hearty Saturday morning breakfast around the table, this sweet, savory coffee delights the senses with the smell and taste of home!”

Bacon Air Freshner. “Put one up in the family room and everyone will have a sudden craving for a BLT.”

Bacon Strips Bandaids. “Bacon Strips are cut to look like small slabs of bacon.”

Maple Bacon Lollipops. “The salty chunks of bacon make a delicious and unique counterpoint to the subtle sweetness of the maple, and oh, yeah- you’ll be eating an oh-my-god bacon lollipop!”

Bacon Floss. “Now you can improve your dental hygiene while enjoying the amazing flavor of crispy fried bacon. Is there anything bacon can’t improve?”

Bacon Wallet. “Sleek, yet meaty.”

Bacon Gift-wrap. “Start wrapping in style!”

A Chocolate bar of Bacon. “Rub your thumb over the chocolate bar to release the aromas of smoked applewood bacon flirting with deep milk chocolate.”

Wake-n-Bacon. “This clock gently wakes you up with the mouthwatering aroma of bacon, just like waking up on a Sunday morning to the smell of Mom cooking breakfast. Unless you’re Jewish.”

And of course, a variety of Bacon-of-the-Month-Clubs. Including one offered through The Grateful Plate and one through The Pig Next Door.

Just in case you get bacon overload and aren’t sure what to do with it all, you can always make Bacon Soap.

Finally, if this just isn’t enough and you need more bacon-inspired recipes, products, or advice, you can turn to Mr. Bacon Pants (Alejna, this one is for you) at www.MrBaconPants.com.

Tonight was our first parent teacher conference of the year. The kids are in a French school, immersed in French all day long, so it’s been a bit of a mystery to us as to how they were doing. For Kate we had no worries; she’s young, she’s in the most primary of classes the school offers, and there are no huge developmental issues that need immediate attention (eventually we’ll turn to pottying and removal of Abby — her pacifier — but we’re currently living in the beautiful world of LATER on those issues).

For Will, it’s been constant worry. Worry that he was struggling with a bully. Worry that he wasn’t able to sit still. Worry that he is the youngest (or almost the youngest) in the class. Worry that he isn’t bringing home points to show good behavior. Worry that he is over-tired without a nap. The worry came from little things that we were seeing: a random bathroom accident around the same time as the concern over the bully, increased difficulty and whiny behavior at home, the fact that he wasn’t bringing home ‘creature cards,’ given when students reach 10 points for good behavior (there is the possibility to earn 1 point each day). Although he seems to love school (he never wants to go home when we arrive to pick him up), he complains about going to school each morning. Was he showing us signs that he was stressed? Were we missing important clues that indicate a problem?

We have been in communication with his teacher and the school director about our concerns. It’s fair to say that I am a high-maintenance Mom when I don’t understand something. (Although I would prefer the terms “engaged” and “involved.”) It’s a new school, the learning curve is steeper than we would have thought, and getting information from other parents has been difficult. Thankfully, the school staff is understanding and accommodating of our questions.

Nana (Paul’s Mom) came yesterday and spent the morning with Will’s class. Via her report, in class, Will is quiet. He fidgets, but really no more or less than any of his classmates. When asked to do something, he follows direction without hesitation, which she felt was strong indication that he understood the commands. At one point, the teacher pulled out dice and some cards. She called over students one by one and asked them a series of questions, rolling the dice and showing the cards — a test of numbers, counting, and letters. Nana couldn’t tell what the right or wrong answers were, only that comparatively, Will seemed to fly through the questions.

So we arrived at Will’s conference a little nervous. I had my notebook out, pen raised.

“Will,” his teacher began, “Will is… what is the word…?” (Will’s teacher is French, she’s searching for the right word) “… he is…”

My hand readies to write.

“… amazing.”

I freeze. Really? I put down the pen. This is not the word I thought she was going to say.

She proceeds to tell us that she had wondered if Will was learning at all, that she sees him looking around the room, daydreaming, not really paying attention. That when they learn songs, she wonders how well he knows the words. That he is shy and doesn’t speak. (This is normal with immersion — in the first year, children tend to primarily listen. In the second year, they begin to speak.) So today, when she checked in with the students in preparation for the afternoon’s parent meetings, she was “amazed” that Will not only flew through the dice and cards, but that he did it faster and with accuracy equal to that of the students who had been in French school for several years. “You should be very proud of him,” she told us with a smile.

I’d love to say that we are simply outstanding parents, dutifully fostering his French learning. But outside of asking him to teach us different words or sing songs for the video camera, we’re not doing much. All this time and worry about Will, when the truth is that he is really, truly learning, completely in stride with his class. It was the first time I’d actually believed that maybe he wasn’t going to be held back from Kindergarten (all my worry had resigned me to this reality, because I was so sure we’d made the wrong choice by putting him in the Kindergarten in the first place.) Could this be anxiety over how fast this kid is growing up?

As we left the school, feeling a bit shocked and surprised, Paul says, “We managed to get through our first parent-teacher conference without the words ‘restraining order.’ I consider that a success.”

Then we exchanged glances and he voiced what we both were thinking, “I spoke too soon; we still have to do Kate’s.”

The outbuilding is falling down. Or, was falling down. Part of the roof had sort of caved in and the need to replace the leaking roof became imperative. So our home renovation focus had to shift to the outbuilding.

Luckily, though, we had hired Cien, one of the students who was in last spring’s Peru course, to paint the back of the house where Paul had finished putting up the hardiplank. (Cien stayed in Peru after the course and actually did some construction work with the lodge that we stayed with in the jungle, so we knew he had some skills.) When the immediate needs of the outbuilding became apparent, we asked if he was interested in more work. He said yes… either because he’s a nice guy, or really needs money, or is a bit crazy. While we wonder which is the right answer, here he is swinging on a jungle vine:

No, no, he did it ’cause he’s a nice guy. And a Graduate student, and they always need money.

The good thing that Cien is an international health guy. He can handle all sorts of bugs and heat and fixing square holes in round pegs. All three are necessary skills when working on any of our projects.

Most importantly, though, Cien works well with Paul. A lot of this stuff requires at least two people. Thank goodness Cien has the skill and interest, because another one of these weekends might have killed my Dad. Here are Cien and Paul in the outbuilding, demolishing virtually everything and rebuilding… termites, both past and present, had really made an impact.

So, too, had roaches and a few snakes, according to Cien. The light was dim and the photogragh isn’t the strongest, but this is the sort of mess Cien cleaned out of the walls and put into a huge pile in the yard for removal.

See that big pile behind Paul? And it’s just the roof and 1/3 of the walls. (The dumpster is coming soon.)

Paul and his trusty table saw. With Cien in the background tearing up the front of the building (and finding active termites). As for the termites, we have a contract and they are coming next week to treat everything.

I wasn’t kidding that the debris pile was large. See why a birthday party is sort of out of the question?

The purpose of this picture is so show the special little details of our yard. Specificially, the commode. Because you never know when you’re going to have to go.

You can sit and admire the abundance of foliage, thriving from more than a year of neglect. (Don’t judge. You think that pile is bad? It’s a third of the size of the pile from gutting the bathroom and laundry last winter.) Serious home renovation is serious stuff.

Here is the first look at what it is going to look like when complete… we’re opening up the middle. It will be open with natural light — covered/protected space for a patio and grill. Storage accessed by French doors on either side from the patio. To be ready in 2027.

Will did not want to go to school today.

First, he tried the Peggy Ann McKay approach. He dramatically explained his sudden illnesses and selflessly proclaimed that he “would feel REALLY BAD if he got anyone else sick. REALLY FOR REAL.” When I felt his head and tested his smile button (belly tickle spot), he was unable to maintain the facade. But I wanted to validate his complaint, “let’s get you a good breakfast,” I offered, “and maybe that will help you feel better.”

Because Paul gets up at 5:30 and walks to the corner coffee shop to start work at 6 each morning, I handle the kids by myself. Some mornings are fine. Other mornings… not so much.

Somewhere between changing Kate’s huge leaking poop and dealing with her current obsession of testing just how committed I am to ignore her when she screams, I forced Will to get dressed.

As in, I carried him to where his clothes were laid out. I pulled off his pajamas. I grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back when he tried to slide away. I forced underwear and pants on his kicking legs. By the time I had his vest on, he was calmer and stood while I tucked in his shirt and helped get on his socks. He fussed and then pouted. Somewhere in the process, he declared me THE WORST MOMMY EVER.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve been called this before, but today I felt like I really earned it. Isn’t forced-dressing right up there with forcing cod liver oil down a child’s throat?

“At least I’m not dressing you in plaid bell-bottoms and taking pictures,” I joked to myself as he continued to be angry.

Finally, I explained the deal. “I love you no matter what names you call me. You can hurt me with your words, Will, but it will never change how much I love you. And I love you so much that I will risk you being angry with me to keep you safe and to do things that are good for you — like go to school.”

He paused and was still.

Then, under his breath, “but you are still not my friend.”

—-

Under the circumstances, I feel it’s okay to post this then.

—

When I have my nervous breakdown and move to the beach to make jewelry on the days when they untie my jacket, THESE are the kinds of things I want to make. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place…

Growing up, my Dad worked nonstop. Terms like ‘work-a-holic’ don’t even apply to military families, because there is no such thing as a nonworking day. Even if he did have a day off, he was changing the oil in the car or dumping my clothes drawers on the floor during a room inspection (drawers not neat, everything on the floor!) My brother and I proudly reasoned that his obsession was due to a higher calling and we did our best to understand.

Then he retired from the Navy and took a real job. And worked just as much. Then we realized that no, in fact, Dad was just a work-addict.

A little more than a month ago, Dad took a new job. Since getting that job, he’s worked from home during the day, come home before 6pm, and gone on vacation. Maybe these sound normal for some, but for my Dad, it singles major alarm. Even my Mom has been complaining that she has no idea what to do with my Dad around the house more than 10 minutes a day. Is this his mid-life crisis? Or maybe worse, could he have been given some sort of terrible diagnosis and is busy working on a bucket list? We wondered.

But I think I’ve figured it out. After meeting who he’s working with, I realize that it’s not that he is a machine. It’s that this is the first time he has not worked for crazy people. Amazingly, when faced with a normal work situation that places realistic demands on it’s employees, he began to act normally. It gives me faith for the future… if only other companies and managers and bosses and government entities could do the same, maybe we can turn this ship around.

So my happy Dad and still-i-shock-Mom just came back from Vegas, where they saw Elton John and Bette Middler. (My Dad was thrilled with their 2nd row seats, “when she slapped her thigh, we could HEAR her slapping her thigh!”) They followed up the shows with 4 days in a resort in Death Valley. Wow. So, here he is, our new Dad.

I especially like when she talks about Wesley and Clare — because she’s wearing PJ’s that we gave to Clare (when she turned 1?). When she out grew them, she sent them to Kate to wear.

In the midst of crying children, attempts at cleaning drywall dust, painting, cleaning up paint from doors that aren’t suppose to be painted, and ongoing gutting of the outbuilding, Aunt Flo came to visit.

Which reminded me that a few weeks ago, I picked up a Diva Cup.

Yes. This is a post about menstrual products. I gave a warning.

Sooo… my deal is this. Whether because of the internal scaring caused by Will’s delivery or just the changes from having babies, I have been unable to use tampons and have incredibly intense cycles. There is likely some sort of dysfunction somewhere, I do fit basic menorrhagia definitions. I did at least try to start investigating these things, but the process is stalled for now. The point being that I can use a lot of product in a month. It’s expensive. And if I want to bond with all my earth muffin sisters, I gotta get on the going green flow. So to speak.

Back to the Diva Cup. It was on sale, it came with a free gift, and so I bought it. It looks like a dixie cup with a rounded bottom. It’s made of flexible, soft plastic. And the idea is that you fold it up, stick it up, and it pops open… magically catching all that endometrial excess. Sort of like the bucket you put under the sink to catch the leaks when the pipes drip. Upkeep involves periodic emptying and a cleanse. But that’s it.

Sound gross to you? Puh-leeze. Gross is chemically treated cotton fibers left in your hoo-ha. Gross is scrubbing blood out of sheets because everything leaked… again. Gross is that wad of cotton starting to fall out mid-swim because the pool water got up in there and caused it to swell. A little reusable cup? Comparatively, no, not gross at all.

Tonight, before taking a bath, I tried it. I was really not in the head space for anything new and didn’t spend a lot of time reading the instructions. At first, I wasn’t even wanting to bother to wash it off (no, no, of course I did). To insert it, I sat on the can and followed the directions. It went in so easily, so quickly, and so effortlessly that I wasn’t even sure if the thing had opened. Still seated, I couldn’t feel a thing.

Then I saw the final step, that whole IMPORTANT! step, about grabbing the stem and turning it. What? I went back in to find the stem and turn. Was it turning? I couldn’t tell. But it seemed like all the messing around was screwing up the placement and I figured a good taking out practice wasn’t a bad idea. So I reach further, grabbed the base, squeezed it and took it out.

It, too, was easy. Really easy. And looking at it, there was evidence it was already working.

At this same moment when my hands were uh, occupied, Kate ran in the room, slammed into my legs, and knocked the Diva Cup out of my hands and into the toilet. (No, no, the water was clean. But still.) I had to fish the darn thing out to a hundred Kate-questions about why I was playing in the toilet. After another thorough wash I went back to my position on the can and re-inserted. Again, it seemed fine. I stood up and thought I could feel it, similar to how I can feel a tampon but not quite as uncomfortable. Maybe this time I didn’t insert it quite right? But I decided to live with it.

The bath was absolutely fine. And no red drips on the towel afterward (a problem I had with tampons). I would feel confident swimming with it. I do feel the stem (although this may be due to problems with insertion) if it keeps up, I may look into trimming the stem. But so far, I’m giving the product a thumbs up.

Any other market testers have advice?

—

UPDATE: The first two times I used it were great. Then, suddenly this morning, the magic disappeared. I cannot get it to work today… it’s leaked ALL DAY LONG. Ironically, I thought I was getting better at inserting it because I haven’t been able to feel the stem. Damn. Any advice?

ANOTHER UPDATE: There is a learning curve with this thing. I’m getting better, I think. Even with the curve, I’m voting it number one option.

Kate is home sick. No real fever, or at least none that doesn’t instantly respond to Ibuprofen, but she is definitely not herself. Content to lay on Mommy’s bed watching Charlie Brown blow the big Spelling Bee… over and over again… which is, without doubt, not the normal child who goes to 11.

Even she seems confused about how she feels and what she wants to do. This short exchange, recorded 15 minutes ago, is the perfect example:

14nov2008_katewantstoboogie

A cutesy fall picture to cheer us up after the disappointment of leaving the unbelievably delicious leftovers from our lunch at Lilette to spoil in the car.

With the ongoing birthday drama, I thought it would be helpful to list some of what I’ve found out about birthday options in the Greater New Orleans area. If you, like me, cannot host a birthday in your house and feel oddly compelled to still have one, here are the options I’ve found… with my take on each.

Please feel free to help me with other ideas!

Audubon Park. Bathrooms are few and far between, but the park is beautiful and space is plentiful… if you manage to not co-incide your event with a big family reunion blarring music, a huge walk-for-(insert cause here), or a torrential rainstorm. If you want electricity, you’ll need a shelter, and those range in price from $125-550 per day, depending on the shelter size and location. Space walks and the like are allowed with permits. There are two smallish ‘tracks’ good for small kids to bike their hearts out. Shleping stuff in and around the park can be a pain, but that’s why we families have wagons.

Audubon Zoo. Best I can tell, arranging to have a party at the Zoo is a painful, expensive process where you have to hound your friends and neighbors for their membership status and plans of party attendance weeks in advance of your party or else the Zoo Keepers come and pop the balloon of the birthday child and confisicate all their presents. Just reading the rules and requirements made my head spin.

The Children’s Museum. This seemed more reasonable than the Zoo, but I avoid TCM on Saturday mornings because it’s CRAZY when parties are in session. Maybe parties there are better with kids 8 and older who know how to elbow kids for a turn.

The Monkey Room. The new hotness. Super-fun indoor play-yard for kids wearing socks. They must wear socks. A very reasonable $90 on the weekdays and $125 on the weekends gets you 2 hours in a party room (there are two) and each kid who comes to the party is an additional $5 and has free reign to Monkey their hearts out. They give you plates, utensils, and cups and will help you coordinate food delivery from local vendors. Except for random Monday nights, they are pretty much booked solid on parties until 2010.

Ivanov’s Gymnastics (Metairie). We went here for a party pre-K. Will was two and the party was for a 4-year old — everyone had a great time. They set up an obstacle course of gym mats and bounce equipment for the kids and then did some activity games. A small party room was used for the last 30 minutes for cake cutting. 90 minutes total for $170. Not a lot of room for loitering parents, but we had fun watching the kids bounce around. They pretty much just have parties on weekends.

Creole Creamery. Ice cream parties offered before they open at noon (parties are from 10:30-12). The whole place is yours to play in, with the last 30 minutes for make-your-own-Sundays ($190 covering 20 Sundays, $5 for each additional Sunday). Older kids can have a ‘this is how we make ice cream’ tutorial party for $250, followed by MYOS. Parents can buy their own treats either on a party tab or pay-as-you-go. Love the idea, but hated the thought of feeding 5 year olds ice cream at 11am and then sending them home to their parents.

Gym Rompers. Big beautiful church room with bad indoor lighting holding a ton of fun toddler and preschool climbing equipment. We did this for Will’s birthday last year (thank goodness, since there was frost on the ground that morning!) They do a short story/song game with the kids, too. There is a stage set up in the room with a long table for a last-supper type cake and ice cream celebration. $200 for 2 hours.

Elmwood Kidsports. The Harahan mega-gym has a variety of parties, two offering indoor play spaces and one seasonal pool party option. The price range goes from $10.95-15.95 per child, with minimums of 15 or 20 children depending on which option you choose. One party option is a huge inflatable obstacle course with climbing and a trampoline. In this option, you stay in the room the entire time, even for cake and snacks. The other party goes from room to room (where different equipment is located) at the sound of a bell for 60 minutes and then spends 30 minutes in a tiny party room for snacks and cake (we’ve attended one of these parties before — fun but sort of loud and crazy). You basically can’t bring a thing — they provide food options, cake options, and only provide utensils, table clothes, plates and napkins if they provide the cake. They provide juice boxes for kids and have soft drink pitchers available for purchase for parents. They also have a Gymnastics party option in a separate facility down the street with similar pricing and offers.

Rivertown Kenner Science Center. $200 for 2 hours, facility is open to the public during the party (but since it’s not particularly busy on any day, this isn’t necessarily a big deal). Sort of a really really really small children’s museum, with toys and a few exhibit type things to play with. Bring quarters for the little rides. There is an upper level that involves steep stairs, so you’ll be freaking out about toddlers in a party environment. Otherwise, it’s a decent size and there is plenty of seating and tables for food within the center itself.

City Park. The Carousel Gardens offers parties located around different rides in the amusement area, including the carousel, from $250-300 for 1 1/2-2 hours. Some parties are offered before the area opens to the public at 11, others are offered during opening hours. Storyland also offers party space within it’s storybook themed areas, ranging from $150-250. You bring everything into the park and do your own set up and clean up. The parks are contained but still spacious and you need a lot of adult supervision, particularly for small children. The parties limited to one ride (i.e.: the City Park Train or the Carousel) are more contained in one spot.