GEARING UP FOR THANKSGIVING ...

... with turkey pancakes. Gobble, gobble!

Anyone have ideas for Thanksgiving crafts for homeschooling?

BUSY BOREDOM

I feel like I'm always going. I'm planning and/or cooking meals, washing laundry, breaking up fights between two seemingly angelic children, keeping up with long-distance friends on Facebook, arranging playdates, spending countless hours in the bathroom because of the 25 pounds sitting on my bladder ....

And yet, I find that there are days when I'm completely bored out of my mind. Like today. The house is actually relatively clean, I have a handle on the laundry, nobody's on Facebook, and the girls have been getting along (for the most part).

What do you guys do when you actually have free time?

DOCTOR BEAN?

I used to think Bean would grow up to be a doctor (or get into some sort of nurturing/healing job). She loves to put bandages on people, and take their temperature, and put blankets on them when they feel sick.

But, I'm noticing a trend lately. Very strange. It all started when we were watching "Go, Diego, Go!" Diego was rescuing a couple of kinkajous from some kind of prickly bush. Each of the kinkajous had an injury on its hand. Now, if you've ever watched Diego, you know that nothing is drawn with a great deal of detail. But, Bean was very upset about the boo-boos on the kinkajous, and she covered her eyes so she wouldn't have to see all the ... um ... "gore(?)". She reacts the same way if she gets hurt. She doesn't want to see her boo-boos, and she doesn't want anyone else to see her boo-boos. I can eventually get them bandaged by promising not to look at the boo-boo while I put on the bandage (I'm hoping she outgrows this before she realizes how impossible that is).

Then, we had a trip to the pediatrician. Where Bean had to get her shots in preparation for school (I'm homeschooling, but I still need to provide proof of inoculations to the state). That meant four shots. On most kids Bean's age, those shots would be in the arm. But, I don't think Bean has one ounce of body fat on her little frame, and I was concerned about those big needles going into her little upper arms; so, we opted for the butt shots. It took two people to hold her down while the nurse administered the injections to my screaming cherub, who clenched her little cheeks together so tightly that (as the nurse put it) it was like trying to give an inoculation to a brick wall. I assumed things would get better once the shots were over. I was wrong.

For the rest of the day and the next day, Bean adamantly refused to use the toilet for her business, claiming that it would "hurt my bottom." I could kind of see the logic, but I eventually had to place her, screaming, on the toilet and supervise until she eventually expelled her waste.

Yesterday, she was playing outside with Aunt Tracy and scraped her knee on the sidewalk. She wouldn't let anyone get her pants off to bandage it, because she didn't want to see it. Okay. I was amenable to letting her sleep with her pants on for a night. But that was followed with, "I can't go pee-pee on the potty because I hurt my knee." Huh? Not getting it.

I guess in kids' minds there is a logic to all these kinds of things ... In the meantime, my poor child has not peed on the potty voluntarily in over 24 hours.

BACK TO THE BEGINNING

When I first started blogging, I was trying to wean my youngest child. Here's the scenario:

Bean refused to nurse. Having never had a baby before, much less tried to breastfeed one, I had one very frustrating week full of breast pumps and lanolin. Finally, I gave up and gave her expressed breast milk until my supply was gone (about six months).

So, when Cakes came along, I was determined to nurse her exclusively for a year. And I did. And then it was 18 months. Now, she will be two in less than a month. And she still won't stop nursing.

And so, after discussing with my pediatrician, I've decided that we need to just go cold turkey. I mean, when your kid can walk up to you, request "booby," and then specify, "Okay, that booby now," it's time to freaking wean. Don't you agree?

Yes, it will be agonizing for my child. And agonizing for me. Has anyone seen Pioneer Woman's posts of their poor cows' engorged teats? Yeah, it's not going to be fun. Couple that with the fact that Cakes has that wonderful habit of screaming until she projectile vomits. Yeah. Yeah.

Here we go!

SMALL-BUSINESS OWNERS

Sometimes the hours are horrible. Big Daddy won't be home for supper tonight. So, do the cherubs and I scrounge around for nutritious scraps and leftovers, or do I actually make a meal?

Hmmm ...

Maybe I can do some baked chicken for them. And I'll look on the internet and in my many cookbooks for zucchini recipes.

I usually don't think about food when I'm not hungry or pregnant. Today is a rare exception.

Boy, I remember being pregnant with Bean, and I would be driving to work in tears, thinking of all the Northeastern food that can't be obtained here in the South. I would've given my left arm for a taste of home. Pregnancy does those kinds of crazy things to you.

Have I ever told you that Big Daddy got his first gray hair during my first pregnancy? I'm not a very pleasant pregnant lady. I am very in touch with my body, and I spent every evening giving Big Daddy a recitation of every strange sensation I'd had that day, along with my interpretation of the meaning of these sensations.

I remember I was in a meeting with my boss (a partner in a law firm) when I was pregnant with Bean, and she was doing the Can-Can in there or something. My stomach was bouncing all over the place like I had swallowed dolphins in a tuna net. I had to hold my notebook in front of my uterus to try to hide the distraction.

Here's a question - Did anyone else ever feel like a pod person or a host body when they were pregnant?

But, the main point of all these bunny trails is that I don't know what to do about dinner.

WHY WE DON'T GO ANYWHERE FOR VACATION

The cherubs and I were busy running Aunt Tracy all over creation, trying to get her settled into her new house. That meant five hours in the car (interrupted by stops at a pizza place, Aunt Tracy's electric, water, and gas-free house, and several utilities offices to get the aforementioned electric, water, and gas turned on). Have I mentioned that my kids have a 20-minute car-ride tolerance? I have? Well, that hasn't changed.

I would say that, of the five hours we spent in the car today, four of them were spent with one or both of them screaming. We had about 30 minutes of calm in the beginning and 30 minutes of calm at the end, but chaos reigned supreme throughout the central part of our journey. How do you console two toddlers who are hysterically trying to free themselves from the confines of their carseats?

There are people in my life (friends, relatives) who haven't seen me since Bean was 4 months old. Big Daddy has never been to Disney World. I would love to go back to Chicago. All of this will have to wait until my youngest is in her teens. I can't remember a more misery-packed four hours since I was a child, screaming hysterically in the car as we drove to any destination further than 20 minutes away. Wait ... why does that sound familiar?

CRITTERS

Big Daddy took the girls swimming yesterday. I used this delightful opportunity to go commune with nature (i.e., weed the garden) without the "help" of the cherubs.

So, there I was, merrily getting covered in nature, pulling out handfuls of weeds, responding to the repeated calls of "Hi, Mom!" and "Whatcha doin', Mom?" from my girls in the pool. I pulled a clump of weeds adjacent to an onion plant, and saw in the resulting hole in the dirt what looked like the carcass of a beetle or something. I was curious, so I poked it. To my horror, the "beetle carcass" flipped over, spread out its legs, and revealed itself to be an enormous spider (note, I'm not a big fan of being surprised by unexpected critters, and I am not a big fan of spiders, especially big, hairy ones like the one that was now poised to strike if I moved a muscle).

Fortunately for you, my readers, Big Daddy was in reach of a camera to document my dilemma. Here I am, after first recoiling in terror from the vicious beast.

My first course of action was to try to get the spider out of the garden so I could continue weeding. Now, there was no way in creation that I was going to go near that thing with any part of my body, so I began grabbing gardening tools and tossing them at the spider. But, Spidey the Fearless didn't budge. After availing myself of all nearby gardening implements and several small rocks, I started to wonder if spraying it with Deep Woods Off from a safe distance would be effective. Then, the most unnerving thing of all happened ...

The spider began burrowing into the ground, right next to a yellow onion plant!!! I am mortified to think that there could be more of those big, hairy, creepy critters living right below the surface of my garden's soil, waiting to attack me when I pull out a weed. Yikes!

Needless to say, that little clump of weeds near the yellow onion plant is staying right where God put it. And I'll be wearing my gardening gloves from now on. And I'll be gardening standing up, despite the obvious opportunities that gives Big Daddy to take pictures of my back side sticking up in the air. Which he will.

OUR FIRST CROP!

Okay, so it's just one Ichiban eggplant, and it's about the size of a banana.


But the rest of the plants are coming along wonderfully! When it's not so stinkin' hot 'n' humid outside, I'll take some more photos. (Lots of apostrophes ...)

And so, the question of the day: What do I prepare for my family with my lone Ichiban?

LIFE LESSONS: AH, SEINFELD

It's so true to life, isn't it? I mean, some people don't like the show, they think all the characters are obnoxious (well, they are all a little obnoxious), they think the humor is irritating. But, no one can deny that this satirical look at four friends in NYC has at least one episode that everyone can relate to (I hate ending a sentence in a preposition, but I'm doing so to avoid sounding pretentious).

Who remembers the episode where George tried to break up with his girlfriend? She absolutely refused to let him break up with her; she kept saying they could work it out. When Jerry asked how the break-up went, George said, "Apparently, I was unable to break up beyond a reasonable doubt." He even tried cheating on her, but that just resulted in him being trapped in a relationship with both of them.

Well, Big Daddy and I made the mistake of hiring some friends for a business dealing. Two months after the original deal, we decided that it wasn't working and we wanted to go another direction. Apparently, though, we are unable to fire them beyond a reasonable doubt. They are flat out refusing to be fired and, unfortunately, refusing to sign the necessary papers to complete the firing process. What the hey? Who does that? We even went out and hired someone else to replace them, and they still are digging their heels in. They keep saying, "If you weren't our friends, we would just let you fire us." Huh?!

I'll keep you posted.

FOOD

I love food. I love looking at food, smelling food, chewing food, swallowing food .... I love food. But, lately, I've been very bored with food. I have a ton of cookbooks (because I love cooking food), but nothing is jumping off the page at me, screaming, "Make me! Make me!"

And so, I haven't really been eating a lot these past few weeks. I nibble enough to keep myself nourished, and I manage to feed my children three meals and three snacks daily (although, it's been very boring food, and I really don't feel like making it).

So, here's the deal. I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian (loosely; I could probably better describe myself as a picky eater whose tastes most mirror those of a lacto-ovo vegetarian). Basically, I eat all veggies (except Brussel sprouts - blech!), and egg and dairy products. I also eat ground turkey breast, and boneless, skinless, veinless, connective tissue-less chicken breast if I can prepare it myself so that it meets my specifications. I'm allergic to shellfish, so I avoid seafood like the plague.

And now, I will put my blog to work for me. If anyone has some yummy, quick and easy, not too expensive ingredient-wise recipes that will release me from my current food apathy, please post some recipes or some links to recipes that conform to my pickiness!!!!

A SERIES OF RANDOM THOUGHTS AND OCCURRENCES

It's been a few days since I last blogged. This was mostly due to the screaming, fighting cherubs who, for some reason, have been especially annoyed with each other lately. In an attempt to quell the racket, I've been spending a lot of time outside with the girls. This means that I've been gardening, weeding, vacuuming the pool, running errands - pretty much anything to keep the girls distracted and busy.

I started watching a movie on IFC the other day called "A Love Song for Bobby Long." Critics gave it three out of four stars, but didn't grab my attention right away, and I ended up falling asleep towards the beginning of it. But the point of this verbal vignette is not the movie. The point is that Scarlett Johansson played a girl who was (for lack of a better word) a "trailer trash" character. Not everyone that lives in a trailer is trashy; there were subtle visual clues that gave one the "trashy" impression, such as a filthy mess of leftover food and beer cans littering her trailer while she sat on the couch in a tube top watching soap operas and smoking, occasionally running her hand through her "femme-mullett." What struck me is that my hair looked exactly the same as Scarlett's when they were trying to make her look trailer trashy. Not the look I was going for (not that I actually go for a look - I'm happy when I get time to bathe daily, but I certainly don't want a femme-mullett, even if they are supposed to be coming back in style), and I began leaving desperate voicemails for my hairdresser friend. Sensing the urgency of my hair situation, she obligingly cut my hair in her kitchen, and I feel much better about life.

I have fought a losing battle with my youngest over weaning. Yes, she's almost two and still nurses. I keep reminding myself that breastmilk is good for my child. I keep reminding myself that in other cultures (New Zealand, for example), women nurse their children until they are four or five years old. I keep reminding myself that she will not graduate high school unweaned. I keep reminding myself of this when we are in public and she thrusts her hand down my shirt, starts squeezing my ... um, my "breastfeeding equipment" and chanting in her not-so-quiet toddler voice, "Boobies, Mom! Boobies, Mom!" Any suggestions from successful weaners are welcome. Anyway, this morning, the girls were playing on my bed while I tried to catch a few more minutes of sleep. I heard Bean say, "Cakes, I have boobies." I cracked open my eyes to see Bean trying to nurse Cakes. Later, as I changed Cakes' diaper, she tried to nurse Bean. I guess my girls have a future in lactation consultation?

We planted a second garden. All together now, what is my husband's motto? "If a little bit's good, a whole lot more's better!" Hence, garden number two, full of corn, watermelons, and Big Max pumpkins. Burnie wanted to plant pumpkins for the sole purpose of making Jack-o'-Lanterns with the children in the fall. He saw the name "Big Max" on the pumpkin seed packet, and the motto kicked in. Now, we can look forward to Jack-o'-Lanterns that are six feet in diameter and weigh 100+ pounds. Maybe we'll climb into the hollowed out pumpkin and carve it from the inside out. Anyway, we planted a virtual plethra of corn and watermelons. While I was getting my "femme-mullett" removed, I wondered aloud to my hairdresser friend what we are going to do with approximately fifty, 25-35 pound watermelons and a couple hundred ears of corn. She wisely suggested piling all excess melons in the back of Burnie's pick-up truck and parking on the side of a busy road with a sign. Sounds like a plan!

Thus concludes my random thoughts and occurrences since Saturday.

THE WEANING CONTINUES

And, we have another puke day. Things were going well, and then there was some frustration with putting a toy "Daddy" into his minivan. That inevitably led to requests for "boobie," which were denied, thus resulting in 30 minutes of screaming, one vomit, and no nap so far today (it is now 3:19 p.m.).

In happier news, we all went to the bank and Blockbuster today, and Bean was wearing her big girl panties. This is the first time we've ventured out without some form of bladder/bowel protection on her, and she didn't have any accidents!!!! Very exciting!

ADVENTURES IN WEANING MY 18-MONTH-OLD

So, today is Day 2 in the weaning of Cakes. Yesterday did not go so well. There was an hour and 30 minutes of tantrums, interspersed with five projectile vomits. The rest of the day was relatively calm; and, I must admit, I nursed her when she woke up at night. I was planning to go cold turkey with her, but I was just so paranoid about more vomiting at 2:00 a.m. So, we're going "boobie-free" during the day. Once we get that down, we will tackle those night-time feedings.

So far this morning, Cakes has only requested to nurse once, and she was easily distracted by a sippy cup full of "appa-jee" (aka, apple juice). I heave a tentative sigh of relief, and hope that the rest of the day goes this well.