"Good-Enough-to-Wake-Up-For" Stir Fry

I know I promised not to turn this blog into a food blog, and I won't, but tonight I made possibly the best stir fry I've ever made and thought I'd share it.  (Mind you, stir fry was one of the few things I cooked that my ex actually complimented!)  And tonight my daughter woke up from a late nap just long enough to eat supper before going right back to bed.  I think that's a commendation . . . !

I don't really use recipes for stir fry, but I generally start with a few basics.  (I used to julienne everything, but once the kids came along I found bite-size pieces to be preferable.)  They are:

• Kielbasa (You simply CANNOT go wrong with ANYTHING made with kielbasa!)
• One onion 
• One red pepper (or any color but green . . . I almost NEVER use green peppers)
• One clove garlic
• Mushrooms (I usually use canned mushrooms because I can have them at-hand without wasting them.  Tonight I used Maitakes I had frozen courtesy of the guys at RI Mushroom Co.  SO AMAZING!!!)
• One can of beans (The kids requested black beans . . . good choice!) 
• One stalk celery
• Olive oil for sautéing (I've been known to use almost any kind of oil except vegetable . . . go figure.)
• A heavy splash of Worcestershire sauce (Again, I generally throw in soy sauce as well, but tonight I went bare.  The mushrooms spread through everything and were flavor enough.)

I have been known to throw in frozen string beans, corn, and/or carrots, but not tonight.  My ex liked stir fry over rice, but I'm not a huge rice fan, so I don't make it.  As long as I toss the beans in I figure it's a complete one-skillet meal.  And who's going to complain over less clean-up?!

I also tend to leave the veggies a bit al dente.  I like there to be just enough crunch to feel like you're eating FOOD . . . and I appreciate each element retaining some of it's own texture, making each bite a little different. 

I eat my stir fry with a fork.  (I also use chop sticks, but I don't bring them out with the kids because I hate seeing my food dropped on the floor!)

My son is a different story.  At first he was leery of the Maitakes.  (I think it's the texture . . . my kids are big on texture.)  I told him the idea was to eat a bunch of different things in the same bite.  True to form, he decided to eat stir fry as a sandwich. 

He started with a celery piece, layered it with Maitake, and topped it off with a black bean.  The part of me that is trying to inculcate good table manners wanted to remonstrate.  The part of me that wants my kids to eat healthy food was glad he was eating.  The latter part won. 

Naturally, Ranita's approach takes longer than using utensils, so I was finished while he still had quite a ways to go.  I wanted seconds.  Seeing as I have now practiced yoga two consecutive days and am already feeling results, overeating didn't seem like a good idea. 

So I had dessert instead! 

Oh, yeah.  One kiwi, cubed, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with rich, chocolaty Ovaltine.  Can I just say that fresh fruit and whipped cream (and ANYTHING with chocolate!) is the best treat ever?!  Are we surprised that my son asked for a second kiwi? 

This supper probably won't find its way into a cooking magazine, but it's awesome comfort food . . . without the comfort food guilt.  (Some may think kielbasa "unhealthy," but I say all meat is good.  Besides, the beans help counteract the cholesterol, so it evens out!) 

Happy supper!

The Gift of Yoga

The past year for me has been a journey filled with griefs endured--overcome?--and lessons learned.  One of those lessons is that before a person can give to others, he must first have something to give.  In other words, I have to take care of myself in order to have an abundance for those around me.

I was reminded of this in a powerful way this morning.  For a while I've been telling myself it is time to get back to working out and "dieting."  Today I determined to start.  I ate oatmeal with raisins with the kids and announced, "Mommy's doing yoga." 

My love affair with yoga is a blog in itself.  Suffice it to say, several years ago my sister gave me a DVD entitled "The Gift of Yoga" featuring Gena Kenny.  It was the first time in my life exercise felt like worship.  I was hooked. 

I used to practice yoga six days a week.  Then I injured my shoulder.  Then my wrist.  Then my ex asked for a divorce.  I suddenly found myself too tired and overwhelmed to "exercise." 

So today, I felt like a woman attending her 10 year reunion and coming face-to-face with her old flame again.  Will I still enjoy yoga like I did?  Will my body stand up to it?  Will my kids stay entertained long enough for me to actually complete my practice? 

Yes.  Yes.  Yes. 

I really noticed two things this morning.  One, my very being felt like it was coming home.  I was stiffer and weaker than a year ago, but my body remembered where it had been and was happy to be on its way back. 

Two, yoga is a way I minister to me.  When the practice was over, I felt different.  I felt happier.  I felt freer.  I suddenly had more of me to share with my kids. 

Notice I am not really reflecting on the "exercise" aspect of yoga.  There is no doubt that yoga, even a "light" practice like this one, is an amazing workout.  But for me right now, that is the icing on the cake.  The real benefits for me are spiritual and emotional.  Yoga is the most holistic activity I have ever experienced. 

It truly is a gift. 

My Go-To Summer Salad

I am not the world's greatest cook, so have no fear that this is going to wind up being a foody blog.  I do like to eat, however.  Even better than that is watching my kids enjoying food I've made them.  Tonight was one of those nights. 

After a week or so of lovely fall weather in which I dug out the bluejeans (a little snug . . . gotta get to that diet!) and long-sleeves, today hit the mid-90's.  Beautiful for summer.  Not so beautiful for autumn.  (The diversity of the seasons is one of my favorite things about New England; I feel a little betrayed when they boundary-violate each other.)

My kids were not feeling up to par today . . . coming down with their cousins' colds . . . and the heat made us all lethargic and mopey.  Come supper time, I wanted something cool to eat. 

Out came my go-to summer salad. 

The recipe differs every time depending on what is in the house, but here was today's variation:

1/2 box whole-grain penne, cooked and cooled
1/2 summer squash, coarsely chopped
1/2 cucumber, coarsely chopped
1 celery stalk, coarsely chopped
1 cooked chicken leg (and thigh), coarsely chopped (This one was grilled with balsamic dressing!)
(I usually add 1/2 a red pepper, coarsely chopped . . . but I was out!) 
Relish and mayonnaise to taste
(I like to use Italian salad dressing because it feels healthier, but Chinchita requested mayonnaise . . . and it is pretty yummy that way!)

Ranita ate one serving and opted for white mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.  Not my little lady.  Four helpings.  Dessert?  Nope.  She just wanted more pasta salad. 

Gotta tell ya, no gourmet winning their third Michelin star could feel prouder than I did at that moment. 

The Pre-School Diet

My kids have always been good eaters.  Today, however, my son must have set some kind of record.  I don't know if it was "I'm settling into school, gotta have brain fuel" or what, but my four-year-old ate like someone 10 years older.  At least.  Check out what this child ate:

Breakfast

• Glass of milk
• Two Chobani flips (Coco Loco is our family favorite!)

Lunch

• Glass of milk
• Stroganoff
• Four helpings of salad (He is a big fan of Marzetti's Roasted Garlic Italian Vinaigrette!)  

Snack (at school)

• Cheese stick (in a Spider Man wrapper, of course!)
• Morning Glory Muffin (that he helped me make, chock full of fruits and veggies)
• One banana

Snack (after school)

• A second Morning Glory Muffin (His sister was having one, after all . . . )

Supper

• Glass of milk
• Grilled cheese sandwich
• 1/2 of a cucumber
• A strawberry Oikos yogurt (He asked for a second one . . . I told him to eat more cukes . . . and he did!)   

I'm glad my kids have good appetites.  I'm even happier that they eat healthy foods and enjoy doing it.  But if he eats like this now . . . what in the world am I going to do when he's a teenager???

Fall Clean-Up

Back in the spring, I recall blogging about my yard and thinking that an hour or so a week would keep my perennial gardens under control.  That may have been true.  Unfortunately, as spring faded into summer, things like a divorce, a vacation in Maine, tree removal, pool set-up and use, and a couple other highly-unforeseen events ate up my gardening time.

Yesterday I looked at my front yard and realized afresh that it could no longer honestly be termed a garden.  It was officially a jungle.  One hydrangea bush spread across the walkway so that it was nearly impossible to get past it.  (Awkward when visitors come . . . )

My ex's "nursery," his repository for all plants too small to survive in the landscape and therefore completely un-designed, was so overgrown with grasses that at least 3 plants were invisible.  The ornamental grasses had exploded beyond their borders and had claimed a foot of my driveway.

It was time to take action.

I cheerfully informed my kids that we would be doing yard work.

(They wanted to swim.  I told them that I had run out of chlorine two days ago and had no intention of battling the green slime proliferating in the pool.  It was time to shut it down.  They started whining until they realized that yard work meant dirt, dirt could be converted into mud, and mud made excellent arsenal!)

First I set to work with my new set of clippers, reclaiming my walkway from the spreading hydrangea.  Then I ripped the grasses out of my stone driveway.  Finally, I turned to the weeds.

I was happy to see that one of the sedums I had planted in the spring somehow survived being over-shadowed and under-watered.  I located a little Franklinia that I had forgotten all about as well as a prickly striated holly-looking thing that bites me if I look at it cross-eyed.

After a couple of hours, I was well-pleased.  My yard is no Better Homes and Gardens showplace, but it is beginning to look less abandoned!  I am discovering which things I like and which I would be happier without.  A plan is forming.

In addition, my kids had a lovely time "riding" their bikes, staging mud fights,  yanking weeds from beneath the banana tree, and watching the police respond to a fender bender across the street. 

Gotta love fall clean-ups!  

d-Con Built a Better Mousetrap!

I am a connoisseur of mouse traps.

Not many people would admit to such a thing, but mice and I have had an all-out war going since I was a college junior in my first apartment (with 3 of the greatest roomies ever!).  We had invited the college president, President Litfin, and his wife over for supper.  I was going to make a cake with braised coconut topping.  I pulled out the coconut only to find it had been violated by mice.

I have been at war ever since.

I confess that I have killed mice in a variety of ways, some purposeful, some accidental.  I have stepped on a nest of little ones in work boots.  I have caught them with glue traps (a truly horrible thing . . . I won't use them again!) and had to put the thing out of it's misery with a hammer.

I had one commit suicide in a milk bottle with water in it in my kitchen sink.  Another one lost his tail (I know . . . just like the nursery rhyme) when he somehow got it stuck in a snap trap and tried escaping through his hole.  (Again . . . pretty darn gory.)  A couple weeks ago I even had to kill one in my bathtub with a stick.

My ex had a trap he was especially proud of: a tub of water with a rolling bar smeared with peanut butter.  It caught mice, alright, but it was so horrible to empty.  Dead rodents floating in water . . . not my thing.

The thing with mice is that if they'd just stay out of my circle, I'd leave them alone.  I don't like killing things if it can be avoided.  The problem is that mice NEVER stay out of my circle.

First, they leave droppings everywhere.  I'm not a big germaphobe, but rodent poop is just plain disgusting.  It's bad enough under the kitchen sink with the cleaning supplies, but when it's on the shelves where I store the food I feed my family . . . NOT okay.

I've been ignoring the mouse droppings under the sink for a couple weeks.  Last week, however, they crossed the line.  I had put some chocolate-dipped ice cream cones on my kitchen shelves, "safely" ensconced in a plastic bag.

One day I say to the kids, "Hey, I have a treat!  I bought some frozen yogurt . . . let's have it in cones!"

I take out the bag only to find it COMPLETELY EMPTY with a tell-tale chew hole in the corner of the bag. Out comes the bleach.  Mommy's going to war.

Next trip to the grocery store, I stop by the pest control aisle.  Glue traps I have sworn off, as previously mentioned.  Traditional snap traps are effective, but so horrible to empty.  And after a few kills, they get a little warped and stop working so well.  Live traps . . . really, what is the point?  My sister mentioned getting a cat, but I tried that once and she ran away.

Suddenly I saw a nifty new trap: the d-CON^® Ultra Set^® covered snap trap.  It's a snap trap, so it kills.  It's covered, so you don't have to see the yuckiness.  It's got a cool release lever, so the dead pest drops cleanly out without you having to get your fingers anywhere near the disease-infested carcass.

I've seen mousetraps claiming to be "the best on the market" before, so I was doubtful and only bought one.  I will be buying more!

In three days my house has been freed from FIVE mice.  That's right, I can catch two a night!  Now, that doesn't say good things about how rodent-friendly my house is.  It does, however, say GREAT things about this trap.

Try it.  You'll love it.  I do. 

School Days

I don't recall my first day of school, but my parents do.  Numerous times my mother has recounted that the four-year-old version of myself trotted onto the big yellow school bus ready to take on the world . . . or at least kindergarten . . . and never looked back.

My father, on the other hand, hopped in the car and followed the bus the mile up the road to my elementary school and peeked into my classroom to assure himself I was really okay.

(I try to imagine that now, when you have to pass a gauntlet of locked doors, buzzers, cameras, and vigilant administrative assistants checking photo ID's just to pick your kid up from preschool.  Both beautiful and terrifying, those innocent days of yore.)

This is not the story I will recount to Ranita 20 years hence.  Our day was not quite so sepia-colored.

The kids slept in late, which was fine because he has afternoon pre-K . . . and only 2 days a week due to his doting mama's conviction that 4 is too young to hand him over to someone else 5 days a week. 

Ranita woke up grumpy.  Mama woke up grouchy.  Chinchita woke up unwillingly as her brother had jumped on her in bed while she was still sound asleep.

The Castrataros need their sleep.  This was not an auspicious beginning.

The rest of the morning was a head-spinning vacillation between war and peace.

War: Children disagree--at the top of their lungs--on what to have for breakfast, pancakes or cereal.  (Really?!)

Peace: Children color ("do schoolwork," my son calls it) while I clean up the kitchen.

War: Children move from coloring to glittering, dumping vast amounts of glimmering gorgeousness on the table, the floor, their half-naked bodies, and our two furry beast-dogs.  (Mommy cancels the remainder of art class and again cleans the kitchen.)

War: Both kids have poop accidents.  No more words necessary.

Peace: The kids watch a Signing Time video.  (They're having a sale, by the way . . . worth every penny!)

War:  Lunch is not to my son's liking, so he heads off to school with a delicious snack in his lunchbox and half an orange in his stomach.  (Does the child not realize that food is necessary for a successful day of learning?!  Has his mother taught him NOTHING in four years???)

It is as my son refuses to get out of his bunk bed and get dressed that I realize what all this chaos is about: the poor thing is scared of his first day of school.

It makes sense: the need for "schoolwork," the angry outbursts at sister and me, the inability to eat, the refusal to get dressed.  If I were four and afraid, that's what I'd be doing: trying my best to be so poorly-behaved that my mom put me in time-out for a full year and deprived me of a first-rate education. 

Nice try.

I sit down with him and do some cuddling.  I tell him it's okay to be scared . . . everyone is afraid starting something new . . . but I promise he will have a blast and make a ton of friends.

He's not buying it.

Eventually I have the kid dressed, shod, and ready to go.  I pull his cold food out of the fridge and pack it in his Thomas lunchbox.

Poof!

Something happens in his brain.  Don't ask me what.  I have no idea.  He slips into his Star Wars backpack, grabs his lunch, and heads out the door calling, "Come on, Mom!  We're going to be late!"

Are you kidding me????

And from that point on, my son didn't look back.  He waltzed off with his teacher as if she were Cleopatra and I were the scullery maid.  I managed to steal a hug and a kiss, and off he went.  I was proud . . . and sad . . . and all the crazy emotions Moms experience at a landmark event such as this.

Until my daughter started to cry, "I want Ranita!"

Good grief.

I gave up my hopes for a couple hours of her napping and me writing.  We stopped at Lickety Splits and had ice cream deliciousness.  I finally got her home for a nap only to have to wake her up to go pick up her brother.

He walked out with a happy grin, a homework page he couldn't wait to complete, and a bunch of nameless friends he was excited about.

So began my son's foray into the world of organized education.  Good luck, my son . . . enjoy!