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To Elf, or not to Elf

littleshoeprincess
Kids and Elf on the Shelf
It’s like his creepy eyes are staring me down. (Top right corner, as he declares his gender)

The year Little Mister was born, his Grandma’s bowling friend gave her the infamous “Elf on the Shelf”. And while it was thoughtful, the message was, “I’m passing on this horrible elf and all the stress that goes with it!”

Granted, Little Mister was just a few months old at his first Christmas, so the Elf on the Shelf stayed in his little Elf box that year. And the next year. And the next year. And the year after that.

And here we are, on the brink of the Christmas season (or, in the full Christmas season, depends on who you ask) and I’m faced with the dilemma once again: to Elf, or not to Elf this year.

Reasons Why The Elf on the Shelf Should Maybe Stay in the Box

The reasons To Elf:

  • He’s at a good age for this; he’s into the idea of Santa coming AND he is easily influenced by threats that the Elf will report on his bad behavior to Santa each night. Elf = better behavior
  • Every other kid in the universe is doing it. They even do it at his daycare. Elf = peer pressure.
  • Mommy likes the idea of testing her creativity each night as she moves the Elf around the house, putting him in compromising situations. Elf = Challenge Accepted.

The reasons NOT To Elf:

  • I will have a stupid Elf hanging around my house all holiday season. Elf = permanent decor.
  • The Elf –and, consequently, Mommy – does NOT take a night off during the festive holiday season. Elf = month-long commitment.
  • Once you start, you can’t stop. Elf = forever (or, until he stops believing in Santa, or that a stuffed Elf is traveling to the North Pole every night).

Who knew such a small little toy could be the cause of so much angst each holiday season?

Elf on a Shelf tradition
He looks all cute and innocent now Wait until the first night I fall asleep early, and he doesn’t move positions around the kitchen. That’s when the sh*t will hit the fan.

I’m a creative person by nature, so I enjoy all of the funny scenarios that I see on social media with the Elf. I can appreciate them (probably, because I don’t have to come up with them each night).

But I’ve been socking away fun Elf tricks over the last few years. Elf pooping M&M’s on the potty. Elf leaving footprints in sugar on the table (that one’s a little messy for my taste). Elf doing upside down yoga from the chandelier. Elf sneaking a glass of red from the wine fridge. Wait, what?

I’m nervous to take the plunge, but I think it might be time.

Perhaps I’ll post about our Elf and his crazy shenanigans for the 30 days AFTER NaBloPoMo.

This year, kk is taking on The Elf.

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The day Ina Garten and I become BFFs

littleshoeprincess

This post is written in the future tense because it hasn’t happened yet…but it will.

My girl crush just published a new cookbook (I already have mine!) and is currently on tour, promoting the book, sharing stories, answering questions and just being all-around awesome. My favorite cook in my favorite city.

And guess who’s going to see her? THIS GIRL.

Ina Garten book tour Boston
I’m even sitting in row KK – talk about fate!

Why I love Ina Garten

Back in my younger, pre-child days, when I would spend hours on the weekends cooking special dinners, or prepping meals for the week, the Food Network was always on. And my favorite television chef to watch was always Ina.

There’s just something open and honest and real about Ina. From the way she talks about her marriage to Jeffrey (who works at Yale down the street from me…Hey, Jeffrey, can I hitch a ride to the Hamptons with you??) to her friendships with other chefs and celebrities (I mean, Taylor Swift and Ina together? COME ON, PEOPLE, it doesn’t get much better than that.) And her recipes are easy to follow, and her food is just plain good.

When Little Mister came along, he developed a crush on Ina almost immediately. He would sit and stare at her on TV mesmerized. There was this one issue of Food Network Magazine that he would always pull off the shelf with Ina on the cover. When I would ask who that was on the cover, his little voice would answer, “Ina!”

Ina Garten's biggest fan

There’s a good chance she will see me, our eyes will lock, and she will invite me to the barn to cook alongside of her. I’m hoping she does a book signing after the event, because I will be there clutching my cookbook like a crazed groupie.

But in a cool way.

My top 5 favorite Ina recipes that you need to make right now:

Pan fried onion dip

Penne vodka

White beans and escarole

Skillet lemon chicken

Blondies

Happy cooking!

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Ode to the artichoke.

littleshoeprincess

stuffed artichoke recipeLast week I was out to dinner, and one of the appetizer specials was a stuffed artichoke.

I was immediately transported to my childhood. If you grew up in an Italian family, chances are, stuffed artichokes graced your Sunday dinner table at one time or another. There’s just something about the stuffing – and the effort to eat them, because Lord knows they are a ton of work for very little (delicious) reward – and gliding the leaves over your teeth to remove the ‘meat’.

In my family, my Grandma Rose was the stuffed artichoke expert. She was also the best roasted potato maker; so much so that we would joke that her oven had magical powers because every time she made them, they came out crispy and brown on the outside, and soft and chewy on the inside (but I digress).

Anyway, I’ll never forget one Sunday my grandmother had just taken the Corning Ware dish (the white one, with the blue flowers on the front) of stuffed artichokes out of the oven and placed them on the top of the stove to cool. We had both turned our backs for two seconds when all of a sudden we heard a giant CRACK! only to find that the Corning Ware dish (which is designed to withstand high oven heat) cracked apart, scattering shards of ceramic glass on the stove top, on the floor, and – unfortunately – in the artichokes.

Back then, I had no idea how much effort she had put into making those artichokes (not to mention the expense), and why she was so upset when she watched my dad toss them away. Now that I’m older, and I’ve made an artichoke or two in my life, I can appreciate how labor intensive artichokes are. In fact, when I make them, I only make them for me and Mr. KK. My grandmother used to make them for the entire family.

The stuffed artichoke I had at the restaurant the other night was delicious. With a few pieces of bread to dunk in the stuffing and juice, it was practically a meal in itself (when I go back in the near future to have it again, it will be). I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. So much so, that I made stuffed artichokes for dinner tonight. And I have to say, they were mighty delicious.

I’m going to try and share the recipe here, because they were that good. But, like any home cook, I made up the recipe as I went along. So, I’ll do my best…

kk’s Stuffed artichoke recipe

2 large artichokes
1 lemon, halved
4-5 slices of bread, processed into crumbs (I used wheat because it’s what I had)
1 clove of garlic, grated
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
1/4 cup grated pecorino cheese
salt
olive oil (maybe 1/4-1/2 cup)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

I parboiled the artichoke hearts so they didn’t take as long to cook. Before cooking, I cut the top of the artichoke off (maybe about the top 15%) until I could see the ‘choke’ inside. I then trimmed the coarse, pointy leaves on the outside. I put the artichokes with the lemon in a pot of water and brought it to a boil, cooking the artichokes about 20-25 mins until you can insert a knife into the base easily, but not until they start to fall apart.

While the artichokes are boiling I made the stuffing. Combine the bread crumbs, cheeses, garlic, salt and olive oil in a bowl. Stuffing should be moistened, but not too wet. Once the artichokes are out of the water, I cut the stems off, peel them, and then dice the soft flesh up and put it into the stuffing (that’s just me, you don’t have to do this).

When the artichokes are cooled, open them up slightly until you can use a spoon or tongs to remove the ‘choke’ (the interior prickly leaves, sometimes the ends are purple). Place the artichokes in a casserole dish (oven safe) and fill the middle cavity with stuffing. Then, open up the outer leaves slightly and put stuffing between as many leaves as you can until you use it all up. Drizzle the artichokes with olive oil. Put a bit of water in the casserole dish (I also put white wine in because, why not?) and then cook them in the oven for about 20 minutes until the stuffing is crispy.

Get ready to get messy, there is no sophisticated way to eat a stuffed artichoke. You will literally need a shower after you’re done.

But, man on man, do they remind me of my childhood, and my Grandma Rose.

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Hey, Christmas: Bring It!

littleshoeprincess
IMG_2484
Today’s holiday catalogs. Keep ’em coming!

Every year, I think the same thing: THIS is the year I’m going to be organized, get my shopping done early, be wrapped and ready to go, so all I have left to do on Christmas Eve morning is put my feet up and enjoy a cocktail.

The only year that I was able to achieve this, was the year Little Mister was born. He was about 2 months old when the holidays hit, and I was enjoying a maternity leave during a season which – IMHO – is the best time to be off from work. There was nothing better than hitting the stores at 9am on a random Tuesday when everyone else was at work. And don’t even get me started on the Mother’s Room at Nordstrom’s…a mom could live in there it’s so gorgeous.

This year, I’m primed for a successful holiday season. I have already started listening to holiday music on Sirius! (I draw the line at decorating, but only because we host Thanksgiving. But on Black Friday, all bets are off!)

Here’s how I’m going to do it:

  • Shop early and often. I will once again be Prime’s customer of the year (self-appointed).
  • Take advantage of the extra week. Thanksgiving is early this year, folks. That means we get one additional week of Christmasing.
  • Make a game plan. I have already mapped out each and every weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas, including:
    • Tree-buying day
    • Window Shopping Day (this is the day early in the season I got out and browse in stores without committing; so that I can make a list and go back later and get what I want)
    • Actual Shopping Day
    • Cookie baking day
    • Visiting with Santa
  • Watch the Michael Bublé Christmas Special (I hope he does one this year!)
  • Daily 5am gift wrap sessions (I get so much done before everyone wakes up!)
  • Taking the Little Mister to see a holiday show
  • Decorating early and often

I already have a few gifts bought, and many ideas for others. The goal is to be all bought and gift wrapped and under the tree by December 22nd. It’s on!

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Why I’m Giving You the Cold Shoulder

littleshoeprincess

Screen Shot 2018-11-05 at 9.32.45 PM

Comedian Greg Behrendt had a funny bit about getting old.

It goes something like this:

“One day, you’re a vital dude with a plan and information and then the next day, BOOM, you’re an old man with a new vocabulary. A word you’re using: ointment. Ointment! Not as a joke, but because you need one. How come? ‘Cause you’re sore. From what? From f*cking sleeping wrong. That’s a real thing: sleeping wrong!”

When Mr. KK and I first heard this bit a decade ago, we thought it was hilarious. Fast forward ten years, when our bones crack when we kneel down, and simple tasks such as brushing our teeth can incur neck pain, and we’re no longer laughing.

When I turned 40, I accepted that I needed little cheater reader glasses. It’s because I stare at the computer screen all day, I rationalized to myself. Plus, I needed only the lowest magnification, so it wasn’t like I really needed them.

Then, I started noticing other things.

My eyes got worse. Those .75 strength reader glasses just weren’t cutting it anymore. So I upgraded to the 1.00. Then the 1.25. Then the 1.5. At that point, I figured I might just need glasses all the time, so I went to the eye doctor. She wrote me a prescription for 1.75 cheaters. But I still use the 1.5 because I’m just not ready to admit that I need them.

All-over body aches. I would wake up in the morning and I would hobble out of bed like I was 100 years old. I couldn’t even stand up straight. I’m not sure what happened from the time I laid down until when my alarm went off, but it’s like my body deteriorated while I slept.

Zero flexibility. For someone who used to dance and be able to do a split, I can no longer get into criss-cross apple sauce without the assistance of my hands. What happened to me? I used to be able to do pliés without the use of a barre, now I’m lucky if I could get up off the floor with rolling onto my knees and pushing off my thigh.

Debilitating back pain. Every few months, my lower back finally gives out to stabbing pain, making it nearly impossible to stand up/walk/lie down/sit. This lasts for about 4-5 days. It’s super fun, especially when it happens on the morning of your beach vacation before you get in a car for 4 hours. (True story). Turns out, working from home and sitting so long is causing my hips to be stuck in a position so long that’s weakening my back. Awesome!

Shoulder pain. I pretty much haven’t used my left arm in a few months. The pain is in the front of my left shoulder, at the curve. It hurts to raise my arm above my head, grab a glass out of the cabinet, hold my hair dryer. I can’t pick up the Little Mister, pull the covers up or lift a grocery bag. Not wanting to make this a bigger deal that it was (the onset of old age), I went to a massage therapist, hoping he could work out the pain.

“How old are you?” he asked me. When I answer, he says, “That’s just about right. Ma’am, you have frozen shoulder. Many women around your age get it.”

Excuse me? Around my age? And what’s with the ‘ma’am’?

Because this sounded like a completely made up diagnosis, I consulted with Dr. Google who confirmed that Frozen Shoulder actually WAS a thing. Not only was it a thing, but there were three stages, as described by the Mayo Clinic: Freezing, Frozen and Thawed (I am not making this up, people). Treatment is stretching and exercising, and it will typically resolve itself within – wait for it – up to 2 YEARS.

So, let’s recap:

I can’t stand up straight in the mornings.
Every few months I can’t walk/sit/stand/lie down without excruciating pain.
Oh, and my shoulder is frozen for the next 2 years.

So…what’s new with you?

 

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If Morning People Ruled the World

littleshoeprincess
morning person
Me. Every day.

I have been a morning person my whole life.

When I was 5 or 6, I would wake up on weekends while it was still dark and creep downstairs to watch Saturday morning cartoons until my parents woke up.

In college, especially after a night of Natty Lights, my eyes would pop open a mere few hours after everyone went to bed, and I’d be forced to lie my lower bunk quietly until I heard one of my housemates stumble to the bathroom so I could race into the hall and ambush her awake. (My roommates LOVED me)

And even now, Mr. KK wakes up every morning to see my face illuminated by my Kindle, as I wait for the world around me to wake up. (For the record, my 4 year old sleeps WAY later than I do)

So it should be no surprise, that on the morning we change the clocks and ‘fall back’ an hour, that I wake up in total darkness, only to see the numbers 3:59 on the face of my iPhone. ‘Well, that’s really 4:59am, which is 5am, which is what time I wake up every day anyway,’ I rationalize to myself.

Having been a morning person my life has made me realize that the world revolves around non-morning people.

Case in point: one of the only places open before daybreak are coffee shops, and they are only open so that they could provide caffeine for all the non-morning people who have to get up early for work or to catch a flight.

Did you know there are some retailers who still do not open until 11am on Sundays?! I’m already having lunch at 11am on Sundays, folks; my day is half over.

Morning people have so many early hours in which they could get sh*t done, if the world just cooperated. (If you are a morning person + a 9-5 working person + a mother, you hear me.)

As a Morning Person (MP), if I ruled the world, there is one big change I would make to make my life easier: stores would open earlier. Not every store, on every day. Instead, key retailers (that MPs who are mothers could appreciate) would rotate days on which they opened at 5am.

The schedule would look something like this:

• Mondays: Target unlocks their doors to utopia, including the Starbucks inside (sorry, Target, the 8am opening is nice and all, but it’s a little late)
• Tuesdays: The TJX Company opens all of their stores (HomeGoods, TJ Maxx and Marshalls, here I come!)
• Wednesdays: Michael’s and/or Hobby Lobby welcomes us with open arms for those last-minute craft and decor needs
• Thursdays: Gap, Inc steps up to the plate for Gap, Banana Republic and Old Navy (if you have kids and you haven’t been to an Old Navy in the last 30 days, are you even a parent?)
• Fridays: your local grocery or specialty store has their veggies spritzed and their meat and fish cases stocked and ready (why do shopping on the weekends when all the other working folks are buying their food?)

Just writing this makes me feel like I have more hours in my day! Imagine how much we morning folks could accomplish!

How do we make this happen?? #kkforpresident

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Three was almost the end of me.

littleshoeprincess

I mentally prepared my self for the “terrible twos”. It’s all you hear about coming out of the bliss of an 18-month old who smiles and laughs and reminds you of why you had children.

But two came and went, and it was just as awesome as the “ones”. Little Mister was a late bloomer – he didn’t even take his first steps until he was 18 months old! – so he was as smiley and easy going as he was a year earlier.

And then…three.

Oh, for all things holy…THREE.

Why doesn’t anyone tell you about three? I feel they focus so much on the ‘terrible twos’ that they gloss right over three. I found out the nomenclature for three – the “threenager” – and oh, we were so good at being a threenager in this house.

Oh, the wonderfulness of the Threenager at dinner. (That’s homemade sauce and meatballs, y’all)

Tantrums? CHECK.

Potty training ignorance? CHECK.

Mastering the word “NO!”? CHECK.

Testing my every last patience and nerve? CHECK, CHECK, CHECK!

It was like a unknown force – let’s call it a demon for lack of a better term – took over our child’s body. Gone was our sweet, innocent, laughing, lovable boy.

In his place? The Threenager: with enough attitude to make a 15-year-old misunderstood girl blush.

Things that upset our Threenager included (but are in no way limited to):

• Short-sleeved shirts
• Four chicken nuggets instead of five in his dish
• Mondays
• When you tried to help him
• When you let him do things on his own
• When you asked what he wanted for dinner
• When he asked for something and we said ‘yes’
• When we wouldn’t let him eat candy for breakfast
• When he’d ask for pancakes and I’d make him pancakes
• When I’d cut his sandwich into squares and not triangles
• When we asked him to wash his hands (this still upsets him)
• When he wouldn’t get his way
• When he did get his way

Oh, and the list goes on.

A month ago, we hit the a big milestone: LM TURNED FOUR.

I didn’t want to be disillusioned. Would a switch be flipped? Would the Threenager be behind us forever?

Or, would it just go on? Terrible Twos, Threenager…what was next?

Any chance it’s the “Fantastic Fours” ???

 

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How the Grandmas ruined Target.

littleshoeprincess

I’m sorry, Grandmas, but it’s true. My shopping oasis with my little buddy will never be the same.

If you’ve ever met me, read this blog or had a conversation about my favorite place on earth, you know that I LOVE Target. 

My ideal morning looks like this: pulling into the Target parking lot at 7:58am – right before it opens – securing my self-designated parking spot, and watching them unlock those glorious doors to reveal a magical place that loves to take my money.

After the Little Mister (LM) was born, this tradition continued. Maternity leave was the perfect time to do my Target stroll during the week, when everyone else was at work! We had the whole store to ourselves.



Here is LM on his very first 

Target run at 3 weeks old.

For three and a half years, LM and I would enjoy our mornings in Target. He’d have a snack while I sipped an iced coffee, we’d pick up new books to read, stock up on diapers and formula, and – of course – we’d buy outfits and home decor that we didn’t need.

Then one day, LM came home from his Grandma’s house with a new toy.

“Where did you get that?” I asked him.

“TARGET!” LM replied, excitement in his eyes. “Mommy, they have TOYS at Target!”

And that’s when my perfect little Target world came crumbling down.

You see, up until this very day, LM had no idea that Target sold toys. Why? BECAUSE I NEVER TOOK HIM TO THE TOY DEPARTMENT. 

Free parenting advice: If you take a child to a toy department, he’s going to want a toy. 

So to avoid having to have the “discussion” (read: tantrum) about why we’re not buying a toy every time we go to ‘the store with the red carts’ I just avoided the toy department completely.

And let me tell you something: it was wonderful. 

A week later, LM’s other Grandmother took him to Target. And guess what? Another toy!

“I like Target,” LM told me, clutching his new toy as we drove home. 

“Yeah,” I told him. “I used to like it, too.”

Thanks a LOT, Grandmas!

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What I’ve been doing in the last year. (Day 1 NaBloPoMo)

littleshoeprincess

The passage of time is funny.


It’s amazing to me that the same day/week/month can fly by for one person, and drag on for eternity for another, when it’s exactly the same amount of seconds/hours/days.

It’s amazing to me that it has been 11 months since my last post. In the last (almost) year, I have written so many blog posts in my head, that just didn’t make it into the digital world. They were really good, though. Thoughtful and witty…well, you’ll just have to take my word.


As I get older, I find it’s harder to recall the bigger events or milestones. Instead, I find myself musing over the little details that made a much bigger impact.


Here are some little details from the last year…



December.

This was a good Christmas year – we were finally at an age where we understood what was going on (Santa was coming! He was going to leave presents!) But apparently, our child did not get the memo that you were supposed to wake up before daybreak to go and see if Santa came. Instead, our child slept in, until we finally had to wake him since we had family coming over in a hour and we needed to get ready. When he finally made his way out into the family room, he looked at the tree and presents and asked, “I think I’d like a cookie and some milk first, before I open presents.”

***




March.

For me and Mr. KK, birthdays have never been about gifts. Instead, we plan an experience for the other person. Sometimes that’s a fancy dinner out, sometimes – like when it’s your 40th birthday – it’s a surprise trip to Mexico (my favorite birthday surprise to date). And sometimes, you just have to indulge in your husband’s love of beer and make the short pilgrimage to the mecca of hazy IPAs where you can wait in a long line, and then imbibe and forget all about it. BONUS: you get to bring home souvenirs!


***




April.

The time had come for our Little Mister to learn how to swim. So I signed him up for swimming lessons with the town pool. He was so excited to go swimming in the “big pool”! He couldn’t wait to get his bathing suit on! We got to change in the locker room! And then, it was time to get in the pool, and our child just was NOT having it. So instead, for the first few classes, our child took swim lessons from land. We played with the noodles. Splashed the kids in the pool. And asked – the minute we left the pool – when we were coming back. And don’t even get me started on the Dad who made comments to me about our son not getting in the pool; I seriously almost decked him.


***




July.

This past July marked one year since we lost our beloved fur baby, Vito. I wrote about this loss last NaBloPoMo, and I still ugly cry every time I think about our little Wonder Dog. I can’t believe how conditioned we become to certain behaviors, without even realizing it. Whenever I come home, and enter the mudroom from the garage, I still scan the floor for poop. (I have to admit, if I found poop on the floor of the mudroom these days, I’d worry about the humans living in the house with me). I still listen for the clicks of his nails on the hardwood floors. And when I look under the Little Mister’s chair after a meal, it’s because I’m waiting for our little furry vacuum to come and clean it all up. Family and friends ask us all the time if we think we’ll get another dog. And I’m sure we will. I just have to make room in my heart, where memories of Vito still occupy the part of it for loving pets.


***




September.

I celebrated the milestone of being in my new job for a year at the end of August. And what a busy year it has been! Perhaps my biggest undertaking was rebranding the company and launching an entirely new website. I haven’t felt stress like this since I was in a new biz pitch in my last job. But it launched – and launched on time! – and I couldn’t be more proud. It looks amazing, and it’s filled with content to help people understand surrogacy, and how they could be finally be the parents they’ve always dreamed of.


And so here we are, November 1. Twenty nine more days of sharing for me, and twenty nine more days of reading for you.


Buckle up.