Bad Mommy

I took my kids for a happy meal.

We had a long weekend in San Francisco, and Sunday included a park at 7 am, photos in a firetruck on our way to the streetcar, followed by a streetcar ride to the Academy of Sciences for the Snakes exibit, another streetcar ride, burritos from Gordos (best burrito in town), And all this by 11 am.

Next came an hour and a half long car trip to La Honda for the Driscoll Ranch rodeo (which I highly recommend), and a 2 hour car trip home.

The special treat they got at the rodeo (a full, cold can of 7-up each) is about as crazy as we get on the high fructose corn syrup. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that those were the first full sodas they had ever had to drink. They guzzled them like it was the most delicious thing to ever touch their tongues.

I was exhausted, and everyone had to pull over to pee on the side of the road on the way home, including me. Pulling your pants down to pee is not nearly as fun when you are almost 30 years old. It’s nasty. Uncomfortable. And you might splatter pee on your foot.

So here we are, tired, coming down from our HFCS high, hungry and anxious to get home to see Daddy. I mention that for yet ANOTHER special treat (the 1,650th of the weekend), we can go through the McDonald’s drive thru.

“Mommy? Can we go with you?”

“Um, yes, babe. We just roll down the windows and order our food”

“No, mommy. You DIDN’T HEAR ME. I want to go WITH you to get our food.”

“OK. You can totally stay in the car with me and I’ll just drive to the restaurant window to get food.”

“Mooooommmmmmyyyyyy. Aren’t you listening….?”

Clearly my kids are not familiar with the concept of the drive thru. Which made me strangely proud and not quite as guilty for subjecting them to the worst possible dinner.

I have tons of fast food guilt. I know it is barely even food. In the last year, I have started actually looking at the food rather than shoveling it into my face, and that makes it barely palatable.

The only reason I even mentioned McDonald’s was because of the drive thru aspect.

Let me just make it clear that I was very. fucking. tired.

So we get on the road, headed back over the Golden Gate Bridge, and my daughter pipes up from the back seat again.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“I really, really want to sit in a cozy restaurant and eat. That would be a much nicer date for us as a family”

Shit.

So we park. Then we spend 5 minutes looking for Rhys’ socks, which he took off and threw all over the car. I recommended we just forgo socks, and he throws a fit because he’s very particular. Fuck.

Darian is wearing a velvet Mrs. Claus dress. I have a pee splattered foot.

At least Rhys is wearing socks, I guess.

We walk into McDonald’s and I am overwhelmed by the fog of grease and salt that seems to settle right at nose level. It sickens me, and I can actually feel the zits forming under my skin.

I glance at my bambinos, ogling the Smurfs figurines, and relax for a moment. A wave of nostalgia replaces the grease/salt fog as I remember how much I used to love to eat in fast food restaurants as a child.

The line moves quickly, and D and R are running around like crazy people in and out of the doors. It’s almost my turn to order and I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu, so I glance up and realize:
“Oh shit, what the hell am I supposed to eat. I can’t eat anything here! My poor body will revolt and I’ll have the runs for days!!! Dammit, Roy, what were you thinking???!!!”

It’s too late. I order 2 kid’s nugget meals.

“4 pieces?”

“Uh , sure”

“Fries or apples?”
“Apples. Yeah, apples.”
“To drink?”
“Milk, please.”
“Chocolate?”
“What???? NO!”

Scanning the menu again, I settle on the “Chicken Select” strips, which look to be the least offensive thing. My children are now outside, playing by the outdoor tables. I hate this place.

No one asks me if I want apples instead of fries for my meal  (and I didn’t, really, because fries taste gooooood.)

I asked for a water to drink and he told me “oh, I can’t do that.” What the fuck. I HAVE TO order a HFCS disaster soda or my meal costs more? I give up. This was a horrible idea.

I am way too exhausted to argue, so I change my request to a Coke, pay my check and get outta line. I was clearly annoying the cashier, who is used to people coming in knowing what they want and how many pieces come with what.

My food arrives in 30ish seconds. This creeps me out even worse, but it’s great for the kids, who need something to focus on before they run into the street.

We unwrap the nuggets, the apples, and their ranch dressing. Wait, this isn’t ranch. It’s caramel sauce. THEY PUT FUCKING CARAMEL SAUCE IN THE HAPPY MEAL FOR THE SLICED APPLES.

I should have hid the sauce. But I’m already this far into our little “adventure” so what the hell.

Darian eats her apples, licks the caramel sauce out of the container and drinks/blows bubbles in her milk. I force 2 nuggets down her throat, threatening to not give her the Papa Smurf toy unless she at least tries them. This is ridiculous because I realize that I’m force feeding my kid chemicals and gristle. I’m a winner.

Rhys eats his apples and spits out the nugget that he tries. He’s covered in caramel, but I don’t think he actually ate any of it. All his milk is gone.

I eat my food because I’m hungry. The chicken strips taste like cardboard salt. The fries are excellent. An old man compliments we on my children’s manners, while Rhys is smearing caramel on the table and Darian is blowing milk bubbles.

The next morning, Darian wakes up with a stomach ache and asks “mommy, why did you give me all that bad food to eat. You are supposed to feed me healthy stuff.”

All I could think to say was “I know, baby. I know. Let me rub your belly. We’ll eat vegetables from now on.”

Who are you? How do you know?

One of my oldest friends is asking the questions “Who are you? How do you know?”

She’s a performing artist, and this is her new project. Give your answer here and spread the word!

Garden Update

This is what happens when you let a 2 and 4 year old go crazy with packets of seed:

Not only am I befuddled as to WHAT they are, I really have to thin them out so that some of them actually produce some flowers.

Farmer’s Market

I was thrilled that Darian took a nap today. She woke up shortly before I arrived home, and we all got to walk down to the farmer’s market together. I’m guessing her body needed some rest to heal the enormous gash in her forehead from this morning.

It was a little late for us to be in public. The witching hour was fast approaching for Rhys, but we dawdled anyway in the early evening heat, tasting samples, looking at crafts, chatting with the farmers. The kids even split a cup of goat’s milk ice cream from Laloo’s. It was delicious.

I went anticipating booth after booth loaded up with fresh fruits and vegetables, 12 varieties of peach and nectarine, 6 cherry stands.

I was disappointed.

It was twice as expensive as the farmer’s markets in Sacramento, and there was no variety. I don’t mind paying a premium for organic, local produce. However, $5.00 for a small basket of cherries seems astronomical to me. There wasn’t even any rhubarb! If anyone local has fruit trees with an over abundance of fruit, please let me know. I’ll buy it or turn it into preserves and chutney and give you a bunch (whatever you prefer). I can’t afford to preserve when 7 nectarines costs me 9 bucks (I’m serious). It is early in the season, so I have hope for a bounty that lowers the price point in July and August!

We came away with cherries (which will turn into this if they last until Father’s day), nectarines, kale (for kale chips and this salad), hot and spicy garlic, onions and the most delicious lemon pita chips ever. I’m anxious for things to heat up around here so I can get  true feel for the market. I saw more craft and prepared foods booths that vegetables, which is fine except that I prepare almost everything from scratch. I may need to check with Petaluma Market (which will now be known as P-Mar on this blog) to see how much of their produce is locally sourced to supplement.

(My cat just spilled red wine all over the cover of  a library book. Excuse me while I go reduce the size of my family by one feline.)

I’m back, and you’ll be happy to know that my wine glass survived the 2 foot drop. The book had a plastic cover, so it will also live to be read another day. The cat….well, I’m not much of an animal abuser, but oh how I wish I had it in me…

Based on today’s experience, I did determine that our fall garden will expand by at least 1 bed to accommodate garlic, onions and potatoes again this year. There are so many things I’ve had to purchase recently that we grew ourselves previously…and I controlled the variety and quality.

One more thing: When did they start having jumpy houses at the farmers market? It caused a nuclear meltdown on our way out, JUST when we thought we were home free. I shake my fist at you, jumpy house chick.

So we came home, ate a delicious vegetarian chili made by J, and snuggled down for the night.

I’m trying really hard to be a good blogger, so I’m writing this rather than reading Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, and now I’m exhausted and too tired to read. I wish I still had wine.

Goodnight.

Gnarly

Not her first run in with a coffee table

This is what I see on Facebook on my lunch break today.

My ballerina princess with a busted face.

I called J, who informs me that she was diving backwards from the arm of the couch onto the seat, and completely missed the couch (not really sure how that is possible) and busted her face open on the HUGe WOODEN chest we are currently using in our living room as a coffee table.

Normally, I don’t really jive on rules that serve no purpose, like “No jumping on the couch, bed, etc.” . That shit is FUN! Why the heck not have an occasional bounce?

Well….Mercy falling is now out of the question. This little daredevil will have to get her kicks elsewhere.

Less better than ever

The Peezys are back from a fabulous vacation in the middle of nowhere. Just a lake, some cabins, and zero communication with the outside world. We SOS’d for more booze on our last day, and it arrived in the nick of time.

I took 2 pictures. Neither is worth posting. Plus, I don’t particularly want to talk about my vacation today…because it’s over and I’m in a shitty mood.
I’ll talk about it another day…if I can get my children to bed before 9 pm any day this week.

F. M. L.

What I DO want to do is bitch about the $2.00 Whole Foods wine I’m drinking, complain that Parks and Recreation doesn’t start for at least 3 months (This is the funniest show on television), and show you pictures of the garden I planted that I haven’t photographed since my LAST post, months ago.

Since my last post, I’ve made kick ass pizza, fallen in love with Pinterest, and quit drinking coffee. That’s about it. Oh, and planted a bajillion flower seeds that are now taking over my garden.

In all the years I have been gardening (4) this is my first attempt at real flowers. I’m usually much more food centric, but it was time to diversify. I need freshly cut flowers in my home at all times to stay happy.

Or ballerina chicks in fluffy tutu bathing suits:

One serious ballerina

Which is basically the equivalent to a fresh flower, just stinkier and with a sassier attitude.

I only added that photo because all posts must have photos. She is truly a wonderful child who is learning so much more about herself and her relation to the world around her every day. Which makes it very difficult to be cranky at her on a day like today, because she is so understanding and knows how to neutralize my mood.

 

THank you for reading this drivel. I’ll come up with something better soon. Stick with me. I used to be funny and smart and shit.

Making changes around here.

We live in a beautiful home in our smallish town, right on the edge of the city limits. The house has a nicely maintained front yard, mature trees, grass for the kids.

The backyard, however, it just a mud pit. The chickens love it…the people, not so much. With the gardening season upon us, it was decided that the chickens and the vegetable garden needed to be separated. We are renters, and didn’t want to do any type of construction that would be permanent. Jared came up with a great idea…one we think will help us to create a livable space while still allowing the chickens a nice amount of room to free range.

This photo isn’t the best, but you can see the fence separating the chicken run from the garden. This fence is made of 4 pallets and 4 8 foot bamboo stakes. We ran wire along the bamboo poles horizontally so the chickens can’t get through.

I’ll be planting honeysuckle in large pots by the base, encouraging it to twirl itself up the poles and along the wires, so I can teach my children how to suck the nectar out of the bottoms of the flowers.

This 8 dollar fence made my year. We have a bit more work to do in order to contain our jail-breaking chickens, but I can see the light. All of a sudden, our backyard is a place to play , explore and laugh. Just what we were missing.

Now we just need a deck and some rock for a pathway…

Its always a work in progress, and there is more that we have accomplished that I can’t wait to share!

By the time you read this I’ll be sleeping.

It was the most beautiful day.

My shoes were horrible today and I’ll never wear them again…I wouldn’t even GIVE them away, because I don’t want to cause someone else that kind of agony.

I received the nicest voice mail ever on my way home.

I am exhausted.

Rhys spilled juice in the keyboard so all the keys stick.

Some of my tomato plants are dying…I need to email Farmer Fred to find out why.

I love having Jared as a stay at home dad. I really miss cooking, though.

I need to sharpen my knives.

The cloth napkins are AWESOME so far on day 3.

The cats brought a gopher in the house today and the kids tried to pick it up. FEARLESS.

Jared killed it (which would be sad except-Yay! One less gopher hole)

Geez, my feet hurt.

And that, Ladies and Gents, is the way my brain processes. Fascinating, right?

This is horrendous drivel, but I promised I’d write something every day. Mas manana.

 

Simple things I love in the morning

This cup of coffee (or 3), without which I might cry all morning.

Finding this photo of Darian:

 

 

 

 

 

Green plants,  growing strong in this cold wet spring, indoors

Seed catalogs

The smell of bacon in the oven

Being picked up for work.

Interesting conversation.

This song by Adele.

The sun shining.

What’s hat-ening?

I have a hat obsession. This stems from a head of unruly hair, hard to tame, sucking time from the things in my life that matter.

Neither of my children has ever worn a hat for more than 5 minutes at a time (and even that might be an exaggeration), but this doesn’t stop me from buying them each a hat every season. They sit, empty, kicked and crumpled in a corner, having been carelessly discarded during our last “winter wear” dispute.

Despite this aversion to children’s headgear, Rhys adores putting on his daddy’s hats, just to play ‘tend for a moment. He’s usually taken it off before I can grab the camera. I was luck today, and able to snap a shot:)

I’ll just keep hoping for change, picking up sunhats when they hit the stores in a few weeks. Maybe THIS is the year Darian will fall in love with a well covered head…