Another kitchen miracle
And I was damn proud of myself. Me! The girl who is faaaamous for opening the fridge and cupboards and whining that there is nothing to eat, when she is staring at a whack of groceries.
Last night, I came home from work and realized that we really didn’t have much in the way of groceries. We spent the weekend away, so we didn’t have much of anything — except weekend-away essentials like marshmallows, hot dogs, and chips.
I called Darling Husband and insisted that he get groceries after he got off work last night. We had nothing for breakfast, lunch or dinner for the next day (today), and he absolutely needed to buy a few things.
After we hung up, I was pouty. I knew he’d go to the store, somehow spend $50 or $60 — because we can’t come out of the grocery store with less than that — and then have to
spend our usual amount on groceries on Saturday.
I didn’t like that idea.
So I poked through the fridge and examined my options. We had … well, this:
Editor’s note: We also had bacon, but I forgot to take a “before” photo of it. It‘s eating me up — ha, food pun — so let’s pretend you just saw a pic of bacon. Also, I think you know you’re a blogger when you are actually upset you forgot to snap a photo of a half-empty pack of bacon.
I scrambled up the eggs, cooked the bacon, chopped up the green onion, and made …
Yummy breakfast burritos!
They looked so good, I wanted to eat them then, even though it was 7 p.m. Fresh with excitement, I moved onto the harder task: lunch and dinner.*
Editor’s note: Yes, I almost always make dinner a day in advance, because (A) Darling Husband works most evenings, and needs something to take with him, and (B) I need to eat as close to 5 p.m. as possible, for the good of humankind. So I need a pre-made dinner I can gobble within seconds of getting off my dreaded bus.
Anyway, onto lunch and dinner …
Yummy Chicken Bacon wraps!
While I was assembling the wraps, I noticed that they weren’t going to be enough for a meal — especially for my big, strapping Darling Husband.
So I resorted to a dirty little sidedish …
Um … Kraft Dinner and hotdogs
Yes, folks — the Dirty D. Kraft Dinner. KD with hot dogs. KD and HD, if you will.
I was proud of myself for finding a way to use up the hotdogs — and give Darling Husband the meat he is so very obsessed with — and I had exactly enough milk to make the cheese sauce. I mean to the drop, exactly enough. It was like KD fate or something.
Chicken Bacon wraps
(with, uh, KD & HD)
(with, uh, KD & HD)
I was happy to call Darling Husband back and tell him that there was no need to get groceries — I had someone managed to create breakfast, lunch and dinner out of freaking nothing.
Because I’m just that awesome of a wife.
This is the way we wash the clothes …
It wasn’t that long ago that every day had a regular task …
Monday: Washing
Tuesday: Ironing
Wednesday: Sewing/mending
Thursday: Market (food-shopping)
Friday: Cleaning
Saturday: Baking
Sunday: Day of rest
These days, I know my schedule is more like this …
Monday: Struggle through the workday. Usually Date Night (unless Darling Husband is working).
Tuesday: Struggle through the workday. Slump in front of TV in exhausion.
Wednesday: Struggle through the workday. Sometimes craft with friends.
Thursday: Struggle through the workday. Be eternally grateful tomorrow is Friday.
Friday: Struggle through the workday. Sometimes have dinner at the in-laws.
Saturday: Get groceries (or make lists for Darling Husband to get groceries). Clean house. Do laundry.
Sunday: Cook/bake. Finish cleaning house. Attempt to possibly fold laundry.
It lacks that old-fashioned charm, doesn’t it? It’s also terribly un-balanced. I hate spending most of my weekend doing chores, and so the idea of spreading them out is looking very appealing.
Plus, there is the embarassing fact that I do not iron clothing: only hair and iron-on decals. Seriously. But I know I’ve got to start, now that I’m officially creeping up on 30.
You already know about my Laura Ingalls Wilder obsession — Ma Ingalls followed this little ditty — so it’s not surprising that I’ve decided to make my own version. HOWEVER, I am a modern woman, so I am also building in little rewards …
Monday: Laundry … and Date Night with Darling Husband
Tuesday: Ironing … and painting
Wednesday: Vacuuming/sweeping … and Spa Night*
Thursday: Mending … and craft night with the girls
Friday: Clean the bathrooms … and sewing
Saturday: Grocery-shopping … and scrapbooking
Sunday: Cooking/baking … and nail-painting**
Tuesday: Ironing … and painting
Wednesday: Vacuuming/sweeping … and Spa Night*
Thursday: Mending … and craft night with the girls
Friday: Clean the bathrooms … and sewing
Saturday: Grocery-shopping … and scrapbooking
Sunday: Cooking/baking … and nail-painting**
* I am not rich. Spa night takes place in my own bathroom, FYI. Anybody can do a facial.
** Yes, nail-painting is a whole activity for me. I do fingers and toes every week, and sometimes I like doing elaborate extremely bizarre designs. Just ask Little Sis — she is horrified.
Working hard — sadly, not "hardly working"
Please excuse the lack of bloggy-blogging.
I’m about to commit a violent crime with a stapler. Or a hole-punch. Because, you see, I am still stuck at work — and will be every night this week.
Oh, what a lovely way to kick off the fall season. Is mine the only workplace that is suddenly going bananas???
My Husband Rocks
Dear Darling Husband,
I was not having a happy week. I love that you tried to make things better, in your own way, every day …
- On Monday, you took me out for dinner. I was venting for the whole ride there, but you just quietly listened. You knew I would calm down once I was settled in the booth with a cold drink, and you were right. You’re always right, when it comes to me.
- On Tuesday, you remembered that I used to like playing ATV Offroad Fury on the old PS2. You dug it out and patiently played it with me. You didn’t laugh at my horrible lack of coordination/video game skills, and even gave me tips on pulling tricks — once you were safely doubling me in points, of course.
- On Wednesday night, you washed the sinkful of dishes that was adding to my stress, and did a load of the laundry that I was too flustered to get to. That helped.
- On Thursday morning you handed me $20 and told me to go to the used bookshop, since it always makes me happy. I got to spend a glorious half-hour wandering around the shop, unwinding, and bought a book I used to have, and loved.
- Today, I raced around like a madwoman trying to get dressed and straighten my hair. When I finally made it into the kitchen, I saw that you had already packed our lunches — which left me an extra couple of minutes to re-straighten the kinky bits. Luckily.
These might seem like little things, but they meant a lot to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Love, your wife
xoxo
Need a sitter? Save time! Call …
Although I am not a mom yet, I have started to think hard about the P.E.T.B. Yup, that’s “People for the Ethical Treatment of Baby-sitters.”
While having dinner with Little Sis last night, we swapped horror stories of our baby-sitting days. I had almost forgotten how stupid, cheap, and moronic some parents are! How they pay crap money and expect baby-sitters to be housekeepers and maids — as well as watch their kids.
Little Sis once babysat for a family who asked her to “just do up those dinner dishes” — the job began at night, long after dinner was over — and “whip up a batch of Rice Krispie treats for the kids’ school bake sale tomorrow.”
At the time, Little Sis was 12, and had never made anything more complicated than a salad.
She had to call our mom and get her to walk her through it, over the phone. Hell, I still do not know how to make Rice Krispie treats. It has always looked kind of hard.
Wait — it gets worse …
When I was 12, I babysat for a family with two older kids and a baby. Three things were very wrong with the situation:
- I did not know the baby’s name — and didn’t figure it out until months later.
- I had zero experience with babies, but they family didn’t ask (or realize).
- I mean zero experience. I didn’t realize I had to hold her head!
How did this happen? Well, the mom was a total flake. She did not tell me the kids’ names, among other things. I figured out the older kids’ names, because they talked to each other, but I could not figure out the baby’s name, and was afraid to ask. They all just cooed at her, and never used her real name.
I hadn’t been around any babies, really, except my 10-month-old cousin. So of course, I scooped up this baby — who was maybe six months, but I have no idea — and placed her on my hip, like I did with my cousin. And then … her head kind of tilted backward — eek! I quickly realized my mistake, and readjusted her, but was convinced I broke her for life. I didn’t.
I think my Mom truly grasped the importance of a good parent/baby-sitter relationship, with our beloved sitter, V. She paid very well — always important — she never asked her to clean up or cook anything more complicated than frozen fries, and she made sure to provide a rented movie or something else to keep us happy. In return, V was available when Mom needed her, she had fun with us, and we absolutely adored her.
I understand that getting a good sitter — one that you trust, one that is available, one that your kids actually like — can be war, so …
REMINDER TO SELF:
- Pay baby-sitter well. I used to make $3/hour when I was 12 … What would be the going rate now? $10/hour? Eep. But just think of the alternative: not going out at all. Very worth the money.
- Do not ask baby-sitter to clean. You want him/her watching your kid(s), not hunched over the sink. Also, leave house in reasonable shape so he/he does not feel compelled to tidy up. Not his/her job.
- Do not ask baby-sitter to prepare anything complicated. Leave frozen pizza, snacks, or anything else that is easy and the kid(s) will eat without a fuss. Do not, under any circumstances, ask baby-sitter to feed kid(s) hated vegetables.
- Bribe kid(s) to make sure they are good for sitter. Rent a movie, provide treats — anything to ensure they will be in good moods. No sitter likes a bratty kid, and tantrums might cause baby-sitter to be “busy” the next time you call.
- Be home when you say you will be home. I hated when parents were hours late getting back. I’d sit on the couch, exhausted, hoping that maybe they would over-pay because they were so late. It never happened, so then I would just leave feeling (secretly) mad. Stupid parents.
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