the daily domestic

Pool season has officially kicked off (okay, kiddie-pool season) and the kids are having a ball.    I never really had to think too much about Eren’s swimwear – like all male clothing, it’s simple.  I only had to choose between the shark swim trunks or the Lightning McQueen trunks.  It’s like my husband getting dressed for work – he doesn’t have to think about a) having enough layers to ensure comfort in both air conditioned offices and hot outsides; b) what color shirt to wear dependent upon which bra is clean (can’t wear the black bra with a light colored shirt!); c) stylish accessories.  No, he simply grabs a polo shirt off a hanger and he’s good to go.  Having Ayla made me realize how this whole complicated-female-clothing problem starts waaaaay earlier than even the teenage years.

When the swimsuits started appearing at the stores (so, like, February) I started scoping out what Ayla would be sporting poolside this year.  I figured she needed two suits (at least), so I went with a cute one-piece with attached skirt ruffle, and, optimistically, a bikini.  Because when you’re a toddler, it’s cute when your big tummy hangs out of your bikini.  (If only that was cute for adults too…)  I had forgotten that Ayla has a rather hard-to-fit shape:  a really long torso, short legs, and the most adorable leg and arm rolls ever created.   I thought having a two-piece would address the long torso problem…but instead, the straps are too long, and the top slips down revealing that my toddler has more cleavage than I do.  Thus Ayla is, at not even two years old, afflicted with the plight of women everywhere:  the ill-fitting bikini.

what do you mean, "wardrobe malfunction"?

So, just like her Mommy, Ayla will be gravitating toward the one-piece.    Fashion be damned!

So yesterday my mother in law accused me of being a slacker.  Now, before you get all “oh no she di-int!” I should explain that she was complaining about me not writing blog posts because she enjoys them.  In an effort to maintain the familial relationship, I am going to drag myself away from what I have been doing lately to write something.  I have a few things brewing for posts, but since it’s been soooo long since I wrote anything (OMG, two weeks?  Really?) that I’ll just do a little update and explain why I’ve been slacking off on the blog.

First, I have not actually been sitting around on my butt eating bon bons.  I wish that I had, but that’s not the case.  For some months now I’ve been trying to create items that I could sell on Etsy, in some local retail establishments, and now, a couple of craft shows because I’m an idiot and my friend Becky the craft show veteran talked me into it and I thought, sure, I can make a whole craft booth worth of inventory in four months!  Okay, I haven’t actually been accepted into the shows but I’ve applied.  So I’m being optimistic, because even though I know it’s going to result in a week’s worth of late nights making stuff while jacked up on Red Bull right before both shows, I’m excited about the idea.  What have I been making?  Well I am going to own up to a full-blown felt addiction.  I.  Can’t.  Stop.

I started out sewing tote bags, which was fun, and I still like doing it, but I realized it wasn’t the direction I wanted to go in for mass production.  (Honestly I was just so proud of myself for sewing something in a straight line that I think I got carried away).  I kept gravitating back to making flowers out of felt.  I know it’s a big trend right now and I’m not exactly blazing a trail of originality, but I like it.  Once I started making flowers, the natural progression of “what can I stick felt flowers on” commenced full force.   What’s followed has been a constant stream of:

flower clips!

flowers on wire stems!

flower garlands!

flowers with letters!

…and my personal favorite…

flower crowns!

So I’ve hardly been slacking.  Unless you mean I was supposed to be doing things like cooking and cleaning instead?  Oh, well in that case, yes.  I have been slacking.

WARNING:  This post contains information that may produce graphic mental images, and I suggest that any male readers proceed with extreme caution.  I know how you get all squeamish when it comes to certain subjects.  Like how even the mention of the word “tampon” gives you the willies.   I assume no liability whatsoever if you choose not to heed my warning!

Somehow I got subscribed to this all-natural crunchy granola parenting magazine (don’t know how, because I didn’t sign up for it).  I figured, what the hell, I’ll look at it.  I’m fairly environmentally conscious.  I buy a decent amount of organic food.  I recycle a lot.  I avoid pesticides and I even started composting.  I certainly don’t want to leave my future descendants with a world full of drowning polar bears and such.

But in all things, there is a limit.  There is a line that I’m just not willing to cross.  For instance, I wholeheartedly commend those parents who use cloth diapers -  Good.  For.  You.  I personally could not reconcile putting that much sh*t into my washing machine.  I did use Seventh Generation diapers on Eren, which are supposed to be more environmentally friendly due to being unbleached.  But then I threw them into the garbage due to them being filled with crap.

I recently saw this insane woman on TV who had six children and used – wait for it – cloth toilet paper.  Not cloth diapers, not wipes, cloth toilet paper.  For a family of eight.  As in, they used it, and put it into a trash can under the sink for laundering.  OMFG, people.  What if you were a guest in their home?  Nothing says “welcome” like having to wipe with something that already has someone else’s skid marks on it!    She actually did it to save money rather than environmental reasons, but still.  There is a line that just should not be crossed, and reusable toilet paper is most definitely on the other side of that line.  There is not enough bleach on this earth to make that okay.

This brings me back to the crunchy granola magazine I was reading.  It did have some good info and articles in it, to be fair.  But as I was flipping through the last pages that are filled with all those little tiny ads, one in the corner caught my eye.  It was for…reusable…feminine hygiene products.  (Insert vomit noise here).  I just…really?  Really?  Yes, maxi pads sewn out of cloth (in a cute floral pattern, no less!).  I get that we have become a very wasteful society, but there are some product advancements that should be fully embraced.  And disposable feminine products is one of them!

One of the things I found most annoying about living in suburbia was the incredible frequency with which people came to my door trying to sell me something:  windows, siding, magazines, meat, furniture, religion.  It always irritated me, but I never put up a “no solicitation” sign because there were also lots of kids around who would sell things for school or scout fundraisers, and I didn’t mind supporting them (and because they usually had things like cookies.)

But now that we live out here in the boonies, I thought, finally!  We are free from the random peddlers of all-things-I-don’t-want!  Our driveway is easily a quarter mile long and no one can even see the house until they’re almost all the way back here!   I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the last nine months of being peacefully left alone by everyone except those I want to see.  Until today, that is.

I was running around trying to get the kids ready to go, when I heard something that sounded like a knock on the door.  Weird, I thought.  Who could possibly be here?  Looking out the window I saw that there was indeed a car in the driveway, so I went to the door.  I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.

Standing on my porch were two very cute older ladies smiling sweetly at me while holding pamphlets and Bibles.  Are you freaking kidding me?!

Here I should insert my disclaimer that I in no way have any problem with whatever faith a person chooses to practice.  To me, that is a personal decision.  I kind of prefer it if you don’t try to cram it down my throat via ambush, but if that’s what you feel is right, I’m not going to tell you to stop doing it (except at my house, of course).  So if you are a person who likes to talk to door-to-door evangelists, then the following story will be of no use to you.  I leave it at your discretion.

Back in the ‘burbs, we used to get a different set of Mormons biking around every few weeks.  One set was in a car and did a drive-by on us while we were taking a walk.  We always tried to politely inform them that we were not interested and they usually left us alone.  Then my husband became the very unwilling focus of a Jehovah’s Witness Stalking Task Force.  Thus ensued an onslaught lasting several weeks during which we took cover behind furniture more than once to avoid answering the door.  I wanted to get them to leave us alone, but it seemed that showing polite disinterest only fueled their desire for us.  I thought I’d have to be mean to them, and I just don’t have it in me to be rude to sweet little old people.

Finally one day I had Had Enough and decided to tackle the problem head-on.  I opened the door to the very nice older gentleman who had visited us many times previously, and who no doubt heard us saying things like, “SSSSHHHHHH!  Eren!  We are not answering the door!”.  I smiled and greeted him nicely, and before he could start in on whatever it is they say to people, I said, “Look.  I”m going to be honest with you.  You guys seem like nice people, and I know you’re just  out here doing what you believe in.  But unless you can get God Himself to show up on our doorstep, you are going. to. get. nowhere. with us.”  To my surprise, he said how much he appreciated my candor and we parted amicably.  From that day forward, we were off their hit list.  I was so empowered!  I could make them stop bothering me without being rude to cute old people!

So back to this morning.  I never thought I’d have to fend off these people again; I thought my future experiences would be relegated to the occasional awkward conversation when approached by strangers in Target (happened to me.  Not kidding.)   I was baffled at what these ladies were doing coming all the way back to the house – apparently they had spoken to a previous resident.  I told them we’d just moved in recently and followed it up with much the same thing I told the other ones.  They were just as appreciative of my honesty.  So, moral of the story is, don’t hide behind the couch.  They know you are there.  They hear you telling the kids to be quiet.  They will keep coming back; they have the tenacity of a bulldog hanging on a mailman’s leg.  Just answer the door, and tell them honestly that their pamphlet is going to end up in the recycling bin without being read.  You will feel a freedom like never before!

I registered Eren for kindergarten today.  As we approached the school, I had a quick, but vicious, urge to cry.  I choked it back, ’cause I’m saving those tears for after he gets on the school bus for the first time this fall.  I cannot believe that this ball of unbridled energy and curiosity who I swear just last week was a chubby toddler is going to school.  Real school.  It’s good, though, because he’s at that age where he wants to know everything.

Lately I’ve been noticing an unexpected side benefit to his rampant thirst for knowledge (a.k.a. constant stream of questions to which I have to answer “Let’s Google it.”)  I thought this wouldn’t happen until at least third or fourth grade when I had to start re-learning math, but apparently I am far less knowledgeable than I thought I was.  I am learning all sorts of tidbits and facts that I never would have if I didn’t have him to pester me.  On our last trip to the library, he discovered that the “big kids” section of the library has a lot more books on all of his favorite subjects (this coming from a catalog search for a book about giant squids.  We found three.)  So we have this giant pile of animal books that we’re slowly working our way through, and it’s amazing just how much I didn’t know about octopuses, squids, ducks, and tonight’s selection, insectivores.  I actually picked that one out because it had a hedgehog on the cover and I think they are just the cutest spiny little morsels ever.  Well.  I found out that there are several kinds of insectivores that I’ve never even heard of (tenrecs?  desmans?  solenodons?) and some of them even have poisonous venom.  Did you know that moles create food storage chambers underground and fill them with worms and grubs?  One was discovered that had 1,280 worms in it.  (Gack.  Who counted that, honestly?)  Oh, and the only animal that can “unroll” a hedgehog when it’s curled into its defensive ball is a fox; it does so by rolling the hedgehog into a pond or stream.  I find this hilarious for some reason – I’m just picturing the fox standing up and rolling the hedgehog like a bowling ball.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:  Thank goodness for Google.  Not only is it the ultimate argument-ender, it is the Holy Grail of Answers to all of those questions I just don’t know.  Like today Eren asked me what a pill bug eats.  “Plants?”  I said.  “Let’s Google it!”   Turns out, it eats mostly rotting vegetation and wood, but that’s not the coolest thing I learned.  Were you aware that pill bugs are not actually bugs but crustaceans, and are more closely related to lobsters and shrimp?  And that they don’t pee, they excrete ammonia through their exoskeleton?  But the crowning glory of pill bug facts (at least according to a four year old boy):  they can drink with their butt and they eat their own poop.   Sounds like they are confused as to which end is which.  It’s as fascinating as it is disgusting!

I honestly could not be less motivated today.  Ever have one of those days where you just don’t feel like doing anything?  Like even the thought of reading email sounds like a lot of work?  Yep.  Having one.  Of course, I’m trying to trick myself into feeling like I’m doing something by writing a blog post about how unmotivated I am today.  I couldn’t possibly be more inspiring, I know.

I thought about going and laying on the couch while Eren watches cartoons, but any time I try to lay on the couch in the presence of my children, they are immediately filled with the insatiable urge to climb all over me without end.  Inevitably, I end up with bruises from sharp little elbows and a face full of poofy diaper butt.  The desk chair is certainly a safer alternative from which to be lazy.

So, I thought, how can I reconcile this feeling of wanting to do absolutely nothing with the guilt that comes with actually doing absolutely nothing?  I think I’ll start by making a list of all of the things I have done today.  I took a shower.  I changed Ayla’s diaper.  I fed both children a fairly nutritious breakfast.  Hey, it’s not even 10 a.m., look at me go!

I think the real key is to occasionally allow yourself to have a day like this without the guilty repercussions.  As long as no one is starving and the house hasn’t fallen down around us, it’s OKAY.  Not that I want this to happen all the time, but everyone needs a free pass now and then.  Let’s emphasize the positives!  My kids ate food!  No one is sitting in their own fecal matter!  Mom of the Year, right here!

I have one other secret to Feeling Productive While Actually Being Lazy:  list making.  This task requires no more than a pen and paper and can be done whilst one is draped in any number of lazy positions.  Grocery lists generally require too much thought (and the potential of having to get up to check if you’re out of something), but general to-do lists – while being the definition of irony in this case – are easier to pull off, since there aren’t any actual ramifications if you forget to add something.  Just listing things that you will (at some, indeterminable point in the future) do can lend a sense of accomplishment.

I think I need another cup of coffee.  All of this typing is wearing me out.

“Sorry guys,” I said, grinning evilly as I kicked over another log and scooped pill bugs into a plastic container.  “You are about to have a very bad day.”

Noticing that our guinea keets had been scratching and pecking hopefully in their pine shavings, I figured they were displaying their instinctive desire to be bug vacuums.    Naturally I’d like to cultivate that behavior, since that is the whole purpose of having guinea fowl, so I’ve discovered a new pastime:  Bug Sacrifice.

This has become a bit of a family activity.  The kids totally dig it (okay, Eren digs it and Ayla tries to run off into the woods.)  I never exactly imagined that me, the girl who used to get monthly pedicures, would be busting open fallen logs with my boot and saying things like, “Oooh, a slug.  You’ll be a juicy morsel for someone!”  But, the girlie-girl is not forever lost  – when one of Kerim’s log-busts resulted in a whole colony of giant black ants streaming out horror-movie style, I screamed like a little girl.

I have to admit I’m having a bit of an identity crisis, but in a sort of I’m-Liking-This-Way-More-Than-I-Thought kind of way.  Today while cleaning out the temporary duck coop that now graces our front porch (in true white trash style), I actually had the thought that I needed to expand my wardrobe at someplace like Tractor Supply.  God help me, I want my own farm jacket, boots and gloves.  (What.  The Eff.  Is going on?!)  I don’t know how much Daily Domestic material I’m going to have for this blog if I keep heading in this direction.  It’s not like anyone reading this needs tips on how to best remove duck crap from concrete.  Or maybe I’ve just found a niche…

Up until a few days ago, I had a very average family consisting of a husband and two children.  Then, over the course of the last four days, I’ve suddenly found myself with a hugely expanded number of children.  But they don’t follow me around saying, “Mommy!  Mommy!”.  Instead, they quack, tweet, and go “maaa-aaaaaa!”

Yes folks, we are apparently starting our very own petting zoo, because I now have two giant cardboard boxes in my front room containing six ducklings, five guinea keets (babies), and we’ve got a couple of goats quite efficiently eradicating a large portion of the yard’s vegetation.

I was expecting the goats to arrive sometime soon; the guineas were also a planned addition sometime this spring since our last flock sadly became a midnight snack to some heartless predator last fall.  The ducks…well, I’ve got a thing for ducks.  Unlike most birds who have lots of sharp, pointy bits which I am always afraid are going to poke me, ducks are all round.  Round bills, webbed feet, nothing to poke with!  Their adorable quacking and waddling puts them over the top.  So when Kerim came home a few days ago with another Surprise Mystery Peeping Box, I was too enamored with the six baby mallards to be mad that he had sprung more livestock on me without consent.

The downside is that I’m so attached (and scarred by our guinea losses and a childhood experience of two pet ducklings ending up as someone’s lunch) that I’m super paranoid about them getting eaten.  So I’ve been nagging the hell out of him to build them a duck fortess in the backyard.  He’s like, “What the hell do you think I’m going to build, Duckingham Palace?”  Yes, yes I do.

Not two days later, the goats we’d been planning to get were finally ready to be transported over to their new home.  They’re brother and sister, the girl already being named “Gracie” but the boy never really got named by the previous owner.  I made an Executive Decree that He Shall Be Called Elvis, and I Don’t Give A Damn If You Don’t Like It.  He’s such an Elvis.  Look at these guys, can’t you just see the shenanigans they’re plotting?

Gracie (left) and Elvis survey the pasture fence for weaknesses

Goats are known for being escape artists, and sure enough, this morning my babysitter calls me while I’m shopping to inform me that they had pulled a Houdini and were hanging out on our front porch.  (Honestly, it’s like they escape for sport.  They weren’t trying to go anywhere.  They just wanted to see if they could get out, and once out, came to ring the doorbell to rub it in.)  This being the country, she had goats while growing up and was, thankfully, no stranger to goat wrangling.  She had managed to get them into the fenced back yard by the time I got home, and as soon as they saw me they followed her right into their pen.  As if to say, “What, us misbehave?  The idea!  Bring us a treat, woman!”

Yesterday, Kerim went to the feed store to get something for the ducks and came home with another Surprise Mystery Peeping Box, which at this point barely phases me.  It contained the last five guinea keets they had.  Let me tell you, adult guineas are ugly as sin, but the babies are adorable.  We tried to have them share a box with the ducks, but the guineas are even tinier than the ducks and the ducks were such bullies, chasing them around the box to no end.  So, me being the sucker that I am, created another bird home for the poor little guineas so they wouldn’t be scared.  I can’t even walk by the box without going “Aaaaaannnhh!”  Here’s one doing his best pancake impression (this is their preferred sleeping position):

Couldn't get any flatter if he tried.

You know, it’s starting to make sense that Ayla sings “E-I-E-I-O!” all day long!

Remember that guy from Ronald McDonald’s posse back in the 1980′s?  The one in the striped jail uniform always making off with the burgers?  Well, he would totally approve of this post I’ve got for you today.

I tried this the last couple times I’ve made burgers, and oh my goodness it takes them to a whole. other. level.   The secret:  caramelized minced onions added to the beef before you patty it.  I don’t know why this makes such a difference, but it does.  Okay, I have a few other secret (not actually secret because I’m telling you here) ingredients that I’ve started throwing in, so maybe it’s those as well as the onions.  I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter, just try it!

Let me just add a soapbox-sidebar about the ground beef you choose to use.  I prefer to get organic because it does really taste better, it’s healthier, the cow probably got to prance in a pasture before unwillingly sacrificing it’s life , and blah blah blah.  Organic or not, the most important factor, IMO, when choosing the ground beef for burgers is the fat content.  Now is not the time to try and get all diet-friendly -  you’re eating a hamburger for God’s sake!  It’s not going to be lean cuisine!  It really needs to be at least 85/15 (15% fat) or higher to stay nice and juicy – any less fat and the burgers are going to be too dry.  I have added olive oil when I’ve been forced to use leaner meat, and it worked out fairly well.  But I still think cow fat works better.  That searing-hot grill is going to cook away a lot of it anyway, so stop feeling guilty.  Oh, and one more thing – it helps if you let the beef sit out for a bit (maybe 20 minutes) to get the fridge chill off of it before you mix and cook it.  I don’t remember the scientific reason for this but I heard it on a cooking show and it does make a difference.  Also, it prevents getting hand-freezer-burn while you’re mixing the burgers.

Here is my approximate recipe/method for making these yummy discs of hamburgery perfection (makes 4 big or 6-8 small):

• One pound of ground beef, minimum 15% fat – I use 85/15
• 1 medium yellow onion OR 1/2 an average red onion OR several shallots (3-5, depending on size), finely diced (this might look like a lot, but it shrinks)
• 2-3 cloves minced garlic
• 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh Italian parsley (optional, I suppose, but I really think it adds something)
• 1/2 tsp ground dry mustard
• 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt (or to taste)
• 1/2 tsp ground black pepper (or to taste)

Coat the bottom of a medium skillet with olive oil and set over medium-low heat.   Add your diced onion item of choice and cook, stirring occasionally, for about ten minutes.  Add the minced garlic and continue to cook until both are nice and caramelized (this means brown, but not burnt), which will take another 10-15 minutes.  They should look something like this (this is red onion):

Don’t try cranking the heat to get it done faster – you’ll just end up with burnt garlic and onions.  You gotta go low and slow here.  Once done, allow to cool.

In a big bowl, mix the beef, mustard, parsley, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, and the cooled onion mixture.  I scrape all the residual onion cooking oil into the bowl as well -why let delicious flavored oil go to waste?  Mix thoroughly, but don’t overdo it or you’ll toughen your burgers.  Form into as many patties as desired.  I should note that the higher the fat content of the meat, the more the burgers will shrink during cooking; I try to make mine as flat and thin as I can without falling apart so that when cooked, they more or less fill out the bun.  Grill until cooked through (I don’t actually have specifics on this because as far as I’m concerned, grilling is, and will remain, Kerim’s job.  Not because I can’t do it, but because it’s one way to make him help cook.)  I can attest that even when cooked until well done, they are juicy and delicious.  I can’t advocate cooking them any rarer because I can’t imagine that e. coli poisoning would be a good time.  But suit yourself.

A final note on buns:  if you make four burgers from this, they will fill up regular sized buns nicely.  If you make six to eight burgers, I’d get those cute little slider buns (my grocery has them next to the regular buns).  They’re great for kids!

You know there are limitless uses for duct tape – fix your plumbing, patch a garden hose, reconnect your car bumper.  I’ve even seen clothing and accessories made from it.  I did not, however, know of it’s ability to stand in for first aid supplies.

Eren came inside after messing around the barn this evening while Kerim was tinkering with something, and nonchalantly told me that he had scraped his hand.  I thought he sounded awfully calm, as normally the slightest injury sends him into dramatic wails that would drown out an air-raid siren.  Then he proudly held up his hand and said, “Daddy put a Man Band-Aid on it.”

He had a piece of duct tape stuck to his hand.   Whatever, as long as I don’t have to be the one to rip it off!