Summer Hiatus

So I've noticed that many of my friends and acquaintances are on a bit of a summer hiatus from their blogs, so I thought I would post something, just to give you regular blog-checkers-with-nothing-to-read something to do. I was thinking in the car today about little bits of info that I have acquired that others might find useful:
1. Dawn dishwashing detergent is fabulous for removing grease stains on clothes (I never wear an apron and therefore am constantly splattering my clothes with oil in the kitchen).
2. You do NOT need to get your oil changed every 3000 miles. Read your manual. Most car manufacturers recommend either 5000 or 7500 miles.
3. Your local library probably has most of the movies that you spend money to rent. You might have to wait an extra month to see it, but it will be free. Just put it on reserve and you get an email when it comes in.
4. Consignment and thrift stores are a gift from God. I buy all of my clothes there. I purchased a Guess skirt (that's still in style) for $3. Get over the whole, "eww, someone else wore this," problem and realize that you park your bare butt on a toilet seat that MANY others have used every single day.

If you have any bits of wisdom, please share.

The Familiar Waiting Room

I feel like a regular here. I know the location of the bathroom. I'm aware of the weird hours of the caf. I know that you don't sit near the desk, because once the volunteer receptionist leaves, someone has to answer the patient update phone. And I'm used to the obnoxious sounds of The Suite Life in the background. But anyways, thought some of you out there might want to know that Charlotte's cath has gone well. We haven't been able to see her yet, but the procedure went as planned. Her aorta is looking good, and her clot in her femoral artery has dissipated. We'll be back here in two months to keep an eye on her aorta, but for now, we're awaiting our release.

The Red Menu

Tonight we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner. Every time we go I am amazed at how wonderful the food is and feel really dumb for every time I have eaten at any other Chinese restaurant in Hampton Roads. Seriously, if you live around here, you need to drop everything and drive straight to Jade Villa in Virginia Beach. Don't worry, they're open until 1:30am. You should know, this is not your average American-Chinese place. They have two menus--one white menu and one red menu. The white one (how appropriate) is for the faint of heart, the weenies, the Americans. The red one is for the actual Chinese people who eat there. No joke. And every time we go, I scour the red menu. You see, I really want to be one of those people--the adventurous, well-traveled, not-scared-of-your-crazy-jellyfish-appetizer types. But I'm not. I cannot find a darn thing on that red menu that sounds better than Mongolian Beef, egg rolls, wonton soup, and General Tso's. I am not enticed by tripe or duck tongue or boneless pig's feet. So I suppose I will continue to order from the white menu, happily gorging myself on the best Mu Shu Pork I have ever eaten.

God Made the Fish

We had salmon for dinner last night. We're a seafood loving family, so Owen is no stranger to fish. But last night he was apparently thinking about the food on his plate. He held up a piece of salmon on his fork and declared, "God changed this from a swimming fish to a fish that you can eat." Hmmm. I don't know what you would have done, but I'm not quite ready to tell him that someone kills the fish, so I just kept right on eating.

On a different note, I finally put together the "Who Loves Baby?" book we were given when Owen was a newborn. It is squishy and slobber-proof and has slots for pictures of all the people (or however many will fit in 6 photos) who love your baby. So I filled it up today and let Charlotte look at it. Every time she gets to the page with Owen's picture on it, she smiles.

Tidbits

I don't have much to share today. Just some random little bits.

-Charlotte has two teeth now, and loves to chew on my finger with them.
-She is also quite the roller, but she still forgets that she knows how to roll back after she lands on her tummy, resulting in angry cries for deliverance.
-Owen filled up his Potty Sticker Chart and took his earned quarters to the store to buy a prize. We even counted out the money together. He proudly told the cashier that he "pooped in the potty."
-He's a big fan of the phrase "chill out," though he doesn't know how to use it contextually and often says instead, "Chill up, Mom."
-We watched Ice Age together a few weeks ago. He cried at the end when they gave the baby back to its dad. So did I.

My kids make me smile.

Freud

We have a slight problem. Owen is going through the Oedipal stage. "I want Mommy to make my breakfast. I want Mommy to read my books. I want Mommy, not Daddy!!!" Please make it go away. I tried to look up advice online, but searching for "parenting" and "Oedipal" produces mostly psychoanalysis websites that have absolutely no practical advice. I don't need to know in-depth analysis of Freudian behaviors. I just want to help Owen get through this phase as quickly as possible. Anybody out there have any advice?

Deceptive Recipes

I've been on an on-again/off-again cooking hiatus for around five months. I'm sure you understand. Sometimes life just forces you into "Let's look into the fridge and eat whatever we find" mode, but I've been in the kitchen a bit lately and couldn't resist complaining about a few things. Namely, recipe writers. Who are these people? Which evil genius wrote the "Low Fat Brownie" recipe I made earlier this week? Because I must say, I didn't see it coming. It had a beautiful name. It had beautiful ingredients. I was excited. And then I poured the batter into my 8 x 8 pan and discovered why it was "Low Fat"...I could barely convince the batter to slide into all four corners. When they came out of the oven they were a centimeter tall. And they suggested you cut them into TWELVE portions. If I had mashed the brownie into a measuring device, I think it would have been about a tablespoon. Who the heck eats a tablespoon sized brownie?? Ridiculous.

My second complaint is in regards to the kitchen ninja who wrote my recipe tonight. I suspect he has also participated in writing MANY other recipes. At the top my recipe declares that I only need 20 minutes to prep and 31 to cook. In 20 minutes I'm supposed to shred an entire chicken, finely dice an onion, and measure out 10 other ingredients. My 31 minute time-frame is fine as long as my stove will heat oil to a shimmer and bring cold liquids to a boil instantly. No problem. I believe that they search out the world's fastest prep cooks and ask them to compete in chicken shredding and vegetable chopping. Whoever has the fastest time gets to write that at the top of the recipe.