crazedparent

Dispatch from the test kitchen: My kid made dinner.

All by himself.

Well, almost. I boiled the lasagna because i didn't want him to burn himself with scalding hot water.

Both of my boys love to cook and bake. Nol's been asking if he can cook "on his own" for quite some time and I've always been hesitant to let him loose in the kitchen.

My mom reminded me that she let me bake on my own when I was five years old. She'd supervise, but she let me read the recipe, gather the ingredients, and even put a pan in the lower of our double oven. 

For the past few weeks, I've been giving Nol a "Cooking Challenge." I pick the meal and he makes the dish almost all by himself. I stay with him in the kitchen teaching him techniques (e.g., how to thinly slice a vegetable or safely use a sharp knife) or pointing out where ingredients are located if he doesn't know. I assist in chopping and mixing only when he asks for help. I always handle things like draining pasta from a boiling cauldron or removing dishes from a hot oven. And we work on the salad together.

A few meals he's made:

• Veggie Pad Thai with eggplant and zucchini (via Everyday Food)
• Papardelle with Basil Pesto
• Homemade tomato sauce (via Mad Hungry)
• BLTs with creamed spinach (latter via Mad Hungry)
• Salad dressing (basic balsamic vinaigrette, his own recipe)
• Zucchini Moons (via Pretend Soup cookbook)
• Homemade chocolate pudding (via Mad Hungry)

And then there was last night's dish, Summer Lasagna from Everyday Food. For this meal, I taught him about presentation and how to properly plate a dish. He said, "I don't care about that. I just want to eat." So we did. It looked fabulous; it tasted even better.

Quin loves to watch the prep but mostly, he just wants to make dessert.

*The lighting is awful in our dining room due to the yellow/gold color of our walls. Makes photographing food in here difficult.

Photo Essay: Patience.

Things I love: Little League Opening Day

I can say it doesn't get any better, but it does.

My guys kicked off their Little League season over the weekend.

The biggest change?

Q. is on a team. Finally. No more waiting. He's an official t-baller.

Seeing my littlest guy all suited up in his uniform, well, it caused this mama to sigh an awful lot.

And then seeing my biggest kid, all lanky with a true gamer attitude, watching the even bigger kids get ready to play? That made me sigh an awful lot too.

And I have to make an embarrassing confession. At his game later in the day, he made a move that made me jump out of my seat and yell. And I looked back at the other parents and realized they were all yelling too. The play? He was stuck between third and the plate, a true game of pickle with the gal on third base coming after him. And he hustled his way to the plate and scored a run.

I felt that odd mixture of pride and complete mortification: My kid just did something really cool and scored a run! But oh sweet Jesus,  did I really catapult my body that quickly and far?

Oh yes I did.

I swore to my fellow team parents I would try my hardest to never do it again.

I hope they did not see my fingers crossed behind my back.

Valentine's Day: Tiny hands, big hearts

I noticed yesterday that someone had added this photo of Nol's hands holding crayon hearts to a Valentines gallery. I remember the making of those DIY crayon hearts for his kindergarten class. He put such care into this project. 

I haven't seen that photo in a very long time. Two years to be exact. And when I clicked on the enlarged version, time stopped as I stared at those those tiny, gentle hands that belong to the little boy whose heart is always filled with such love, such joy. Even in moments of anger or frustration.

I went into Nol's bedroom as he was reading his bedtime stories and I stopped him so I could hold those same hands, bigger now, but still smooth but covered with little chips and scars from baseball and basketball and all those games that eight-year-old boys play.

And then I went into Q's bedroom as he lay peacefully sleeping in his bed, surrounded by his stuffed animals and Hot Wheels cars. I looked at his tiny hands, the same size as Nol's two years ago. The hands that sometimes hold my face as he gives me a kiss on my nose. So small, so sweet.

Today we will begin the creation of Valentine's Day treats for both Nol and Q's classes. Two different projects specifically chosen by each boy. I will, of course, post photos and tips for those of you needing last-minute ideas.

But really? Those photos and stories that I post will be for me. So when I go back and look at them, time will stop --  if only for a second -- while my mind floods with images and memories of their tiny hands and big hearts.

Breaking the Halloween-puke curse...

This morning during a morning snugglefest:

"Mom, what happens if my stomach hurts this morning?"

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"A little. What if it hurts and I have to miss the Halloween parade again?"

Under normal circumstances, I would question if Seven were trying to get out of participating in his school's Halloween parade. But no. He's sincerely worried that he may miss it. Again.

Let's review:

Halloween, 2007: Kindergarten. Seven (then Five) lost his breakfast within the first 20 minutes of class, during circle time, and in front of all of his classmates. He was mortified. I was heartbroken for him. We determined he threw up because his costume caused him to overheat.

Halloween, 2008: First Grade. Seven (then Six) came down with a 24-hour stomach flu the day before Halloween. He was better on Halloween, save for some stomach cramps, but I kept him home not wanting to spread his germs to the class.

Can you blame the kid for being slightly nervous about missing the school parade again? 

I told Seven what I've been telling him for days. I can't promise that he won't get sick again. But I did promise that I would do everything I could to keep him healthy. Feeding him "strong-boy" food (mama speak for "healthy eats). Making sure he gets good sleeps. And keeping him away from any sick kids or adults.

I also made him promise to wash his hands often; to not share food with any of his friends; and to not touch his face and nose, since that's an easy way for germs to get to him. He should be doing all of things anyway, but it was a good window for me to remind him about ways to keep germs at bay.

But now, friends, it is time for my puke-free Halloween plea. Your positive juju would be appreciated.

Dear Halloween gods, goddesses, witches and goblins,

I beg of you, please let my boys have a healthy, vomit-free, and safe Halloween parade and Halloween Day.

Thank you.

Reading with kids: Old stories, new laughs

Seven I have spent the summer reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. It's the seventh read for me––I read the entire series before I watch the latest flick––and his first real time hearing the story. I add "real" because last year, we tried to cover it but he wasn't ready to remember level of detail required to follow the story.

We started in June when Seven finally had his one bedroom. He and I lay side by side on his pillow, blinds pulled shut, nightlight on. Initially, we only read about 5 pages a night. My voice was at the early stages of hoarseness (another story, another time) and I couldn't read much longer. A few weeks ago, I started reading a chapter a night, taking breaks for road trips, summer gatherings and random nights without stories before bed.

Seven will only allow me to read the book with him because he knows that his dad hasn't read the series yet. ("Dad doesn't get it, right mom?") When I traveled to Chicago, he put the book aside until I returned.

Last night, we read "Chapter Fourteen: Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback." Hagrid, the school's groundskeeper, is illegally harboring a baby dragon and Harry, Hermione and Ron work to save him from trouble. Harry and Hermione prepare to take the dragon from Hermione.  The dragon is in a crate.

I read:

    "I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

Seven erupts with laughter. He can't contain how silly he thinks it is to put a teddy bear in a crate with a baby dragon. Soon, I am laughing. I can barely read the next few sentences, knowing they will send Seven into a full-blown belly ache laugh. I also watch him with mix of pride and wonder; his ability to catch the humor slays me.

    "From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having     his head ripped off."

    "Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed ... "Mommy will never forget you!"

Tears streamed down our faces as we laughed and laughed and laughed. We finally settled down, we finished the chapter, kissed each other goodnight, and joked about baby dragons named Norbert and their stuffed teddy bears.

I've read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets seven times. Seven times. I didn't remember the details of Chapter Fourteen.

Now, they are details I will never forget.

365 Day 5: Little writer...

Seven is a writer at heart. He loves putting pencil to paper (and now, tapping away on mom's laptop) to jot down ideas, poems (his latest craft, the haiku), stories, and now letters. We have a little poet's desk from Crate & Barrel that has become his workspace. The drawers are filled with pencils, erasers, crayons, a stapler, notepads, envelopes and stamps, among other things to make this space his space.

I watched him pen(cil) two letters tonight: one to his grandparents and one to his Tia (my sister). It made my writerly heart swell.

And if you need more children's writer inspiration, check out this wonderful post oer at The Write Start.

Luna Lovegood's birthday look...

While yesterday (the 23rd) was Six's birthday, today is the birthday of my father in law. He's one cool cat. He hunts, fishes and dog trains like nobody's business (and he's a pretty awesome Gramps to Six and Q.).  And while I'm not a big fan of the killing of ducks, I will gladly partake in the duck kabobs he grills up every season and usually on Christmas Eve.

Here's another secret about my father in law: he's a published writer. I think he wrote a recent story, called "A Dog Named %#$*?", just for me and my better half because it hit the presses shortly after we brought Luna home when she was a tiny six weeks old (you'll have to download the article from CWA and hopefully I don't get in trouble for posting it). The running joke is that he wants to take Luna from us because he'll need a new hunting dog soon. But I think by now he's figured out that she's too much of a diva. She'd be amazing in the duck blind, no question; this Lab is all about birds. It's the 5 am wake up call to crawl on the bed that would drive him nuts, especially when she sneaks her way up to your pillow and you find yourself snuggling with a 50-pound snoring dog.

But Luna goes doggy bonkers when she sees my father in law so it seemed fitting to dress her up for the birthday occasion.

So happy birthday, Gramps, from Birthday Luna and the rest of the crazedparent clan!

Cal men's waterpolo team, watch out...

A future player of the Cal Men's Waterpolo team jumped into the pool today for a new season of swimming lessons, just like his mama. In a strange twist of fate, Five has the same swimming instructor as me. It's a blessing, of course, because when Five was struggling to stay motivated in the water this morning I could say, "Hey buddy, he made me swim the same kind of lap yesterday and I splashed around and lost balance too. And Mommy was scared!"

In true mommy pride, though, I will admit I love watching Five take swimming lessons because he looks so adorable with his gear on. Witness this:

Next week comes Q's turn...

The composer (alt. title: how to get your preschooler to stop singing "you know I feel so dirty when they start talkin' cute")...

My son thinks he's a rock star. How could he not? Nol was pulled on a stage by an actual rock star and asked to sing in front of a sea of people. Okay, fine, he also has said rock star's guitar - signed with a personalized note. I didn't mind him singing any Rick Springfield songs until one night in the tub I heard the line, "You know I feel so dirty when they start talkin' cute." I'm no prude, yet it's probably not the best song choice for a nearly five-year-old old boy to be singing. (I know, perspective, perspective. He could be belting out one of my current fav's, "Control Myself" by the bodacious LL Cool J. "She licked off, her lip gloss...")

"Mom, put on Jessie's Girl. Not the acoustic one. The LOUD one with the drums."

Nol asks to hear the song 10 times a day. It's like his personal crack hit. He proceeds to whip out his kiddie guitar and sits on the floor in front of my old keyboard and bongos. And plays them all. If he could figure out how to use each instrument at the same time he'd do it. And thank sweet jesus he hasn't noticed he just needs to use his feet.

Nol has always loved music. Just like his mama. And all types of tunes (except for new country. We don't do new country.) But even I, the fan of all Rick Springfield fans, have my limits when it comes to listening to the same song over. and over. and over.

So I gave Nol a new project. To compose his own song.

He immediately asked for his dad's blank music book so we could write down the words. The end result was one of the sweetest and funniest songs about some of his favorite things. It's called "Best Times." I can't really describe the melody because it evolves every time he sings this song.

The image of his manuscript is really faint but here are the words (written in crayon by mom and dad, as requested by "the artist":

"Best times in the world
Best times. Best Times.
All the things you do.
All the chimes that sing along.
All the times you play and eat dinner at your house.
Awease, Awease, Awease.
A best time, you play and babble.
The best things you do.
I like having sleepovers at Grandma's!"

Yup. Definitely a rock star.