Tag: NaBloPoMo

Kids will be kids, NaBloPoMo

The preschooler rating system.

littleshoeprincess
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My rating tonight after shutting the TV and announcing it was time to start our bedtime routine.

If you live in my house, you are constantly aware of the type of job you’re doing not only as a parent, but as a human being. Why? Because our preschooler has developed a very detailed rating system that puts Yelp and Rotten Tomatoes to shame.

That’s right, at any given time, Mr. KK and I are given immediate ratings and feedback, delivered through the complex rating system knows as: Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down.

Imagine if you could use this rating system as adults in real life???

When your waiter at a restaurant asks how you like your meal, you could give him a big Thumbs Down.

At work, when someone in a meeting throws out a ridiculous idea, you simply reply with Two thumbs Down.

And, after a decent first date, instead of the awkward kiss at the front door, you can give them an enthusiastic Two Thumbs Up!

But back to parenting.  Just how does one earn this prestigious Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down rating? I’m glad you asked!

Here are just a few ways you can earn a Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down rating in our house:

  • Ask Little Mister to wash his hands before dinner. Rating: Thumbs down.
  • Shut off the TV when it’s time to go to bed. Rating: Two thumbs down.
  • Say yes to dessert. Rating: Two thumbs up.
  • Announce that it’s bath night. Rating: Thumbs down.
  • Ask Little Mister to brush his teeth. Rating: Thumbs down.
  • Remind Little Mister that he needs to put shoes on to go to school. Rating: Thumbs down.
  • Read two books before bed. Rating: Two thumbs up.
  • Mr. KK and I try to have an adult conversation. Rating: Two thumbs down.
  • Limit TV intake to a normal amount. Rating: Two thumbs down.
  • Try and hold hands in a busy parking lot. Rating: Thumbs down.
  • Give Little Mister the ‘Thumbs Down’. Rating: Two thumbs down.

Not everyone can have this educational rating system in their house. In order to do so, you must have a very opinionated preschooler with a strong will and award-winning frown face.

My current rating: Thumbs medium. I’ll take it!

NaBloPoMo

When a foodie needs to feed a toddler.

littleshoeprincess
He enjoys twirling his ‘noodles’ like a true Italian.

Tonight, right before I put our dinner on the table, my Little Mister said to me, “Mommy, you make the BEST dinners!”

This warmed my heart, and I happily accepted this compliment, even though I had just plated the most typical four-year-old’s meal: chicken nuggets and steamed carrots (not really a dinner I was going to win any awards for).

I love food. I love cooking and I love eating out. I love trying new recipes at home, and tasting restaurant’s signature dishes. I’m a self-proclaimed (non snobby) foodie. I just enjoy good food.

So when the Little Mister came along, I couldn’t wait to bestow my knowledge and love of good food on my impressionable son.

One of my favorite parts of babyhood was when it was time for Little Mister to start trying solid foods. Each weekend I would steam and purée new foods, package and freeze them in single servings. Apples! Carrots! Sweet potatoes!

And the Little Mister loved every bite. In fact, the only food I couldn’t get him to like – despite weeks of trying – was avocado (how is that possible??)

Then we moved onto combination foods: puréed chicken soup, beef stew and veggies and chick peas.

As someone who loves food, and loves cooking, Little Mister’s love of food made me want to cry tears of joy. We were doing something right! Our child liked to eat different foods!

We progressed from there. Shrimp. Zucchini. Meatloaf. There was nothing he wouldn’t eat (except avocado, still).

But as time went on, and we entered ‘toddlerhood’ (cue maniacal laugh), my good little eater was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, foods that he used to love, were met with a loud, “Blecch!” (even before a morsel was tasted).

Right before my very eyes, my wide-eyed little foodie lost his sophisticated palette, and almost over night we entered the dreaded chicken nugget phase.

There are about a dozen meals we can rotate for dinners, including:

  • Chicken soup (if it’s homemade only, and doesn’t have any “green things” in it)
  • Chicken nuggets (we prefer dino nuggets, and don’t even think about trying to pass off a genuine chicken cutlet in small shapes off to him, it will be met with, “Mom, what IS this?”
  • Hot dogs
  • Meatloaf (most of the time, as long as there’s lots of ketchup)
  • Scrabled eggs
  • Pancakes
  • Grilled cheese (it’s hit or miss with the grilled cheese, which we are sometimes told is “only a lunch food”)
  • Spaghetti with butter and cheese
  • Pasta with sauce (depends on the shape of the pasta, how soft the pasta is (he prefers al dente) and whether or not there is visible basil or oregano “green stuff” in the sauce
  • Meatballs
  • Mac and cheese (He prefers blue box, I prefer Annie’s)
  • Salmon (every third time I make it, as long as it’s drowning in lemon and there’s a promise of dessert if he finished)

We are lucky in that he does eat some vegetables: carrots, broccoli, string beans (sometimes) and peas.

When I think back to my childhood, I distinctly remember eating a cheese and mustard sandwich every day for lunch for 3 years straight in junior high. I’m pretty sure we had the same dinners each week on rotation. And I’m the first person who wants to order octopus at a restauarnt, or enjoy a big bowl of midnight pasta (made with anchovies).

So, there is hope for my Little Mister after all. And for me to keep my ‘best dinner-maker’ award.

NaBloPoMo

Life is short, remember the good times.

littleshoeprincess
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Every time we would see the words “Good Times” anywhere, we’d laugh and take a pic and text it to each other.

A few weeks ago, Mr. KK came in with the mail, and my college alumni magazine was on top. I flipped through mindlessly, looking at pictures of a campus I no longer recognized, ambitious students participating in activities that never used to exist, and wedding and baby photos of young, fresh-faced alums who didn’t seem like they could be more than 20 years old.

At the end of the magazine is always a section on “class news”, and each graduating year is broken out with little snippets that people share; new jobs, career and family milestones and, sadly, deaths.

When it comes to my college years, my memory is pretty lacking. I don’t mean that in a “Wow, I partied those four years away and it’s all a such a big blur!” way. Instead, it’s like I just didn’t commit names, faces and events to my memory. Or if I did, they are no longer there. And, of course, it causes my college roommates to make fun of me, question whether or not I even attended the same school as they did. (NOTE: I did.)

So when I scanned the class news section for our graduating year, and the graduation years above and below us (since we DID spend lots of time with those folks, even though I can never remember their names) and saw the obituary for a guy we knew quite well, I had to do a double take.

We lived next to the football team our junior and senior years, and if anyone had ridiculous nicknames for each other, it was these guys. So it took me a minute for this guy’s name – his real name – to register. And even then, I doubted my memory, which didn’t have the best track record. I texted a pic of the obit to my friends just to double check I wasn’t crazy, and sure enough, our friend “Good Times” had passed away.

When did we get so…old?

I was never particularly close with Good Times, however one of my roommates spent quite a bit of time with him during – and after – college. But no matter how well I knew him, or how much we hung out, the three of us were stunned to see his name in print. Someone we were friends with in college died.

The realization was a little scary: my friends and I were at the age, when classmates could just start dying. Sure, we’d lost a few others over the years to tragic accidents. But to think that people our age may start passing away due to illness or medical conditions, was pretty scary.

That night, one of my roommates scoured the internet looking for answers. She stumbled across Good Times’ Facebook page, which had been turned into a memorial. “I don’t want you to do that to my page,” she told us, referring to the memorial page. One of her biggest worries is what is going to happen to her social media if something should ever happen to her. We reassure her that we will be very kind, and continually tag her in embarrassing photos in the afterlife. (kidding!)

Life is short, be sure to spend it doing things you like.

Social media aside, seeing that someone who had been so full of life (and was always up for a Good Time, hence his nickname) had passed away was pretty sobering. One minute you’re here, and the next you’re…not.

I wouldn’t say that this occurrence renewed my lease on life or anything big and spiritual like that, but it did remind me that life truly IS short. So you should make the best of it while you can. Make time for the things you like to do, say no to stuff that doesn’t interest you and takes up your time. Pick a few items off your ‘to do’ list and make them a priority. Stop and remember the little moments; for me: don’t rush the Little Mister brushing his teeth every morning because we’re running late again; if he wants to get in the car seat by himself as a feat of independence, just let him do it, even though it takes forever; and be the green dinosaur who needs to rescue the lion who fell in the ocean, even though I should be making dinner.

And make sure to have a Good Time, no matter what you’re doing.

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Footloose and Child-free

littleshoeprincess

Here’s what happens when you let two forty-somethings loose in Brooklyn (hipster central), sans child, with zero agenda.

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Every once in a while you need to sneak away and remember who you were before you had to watch Blaze and the Monster Machines 24/7, eat chicken nuggets for dinner and sleep in dinosaur sheets.

Mr. KK and I are enjoying some frosty beverages, while Little Mister enjoys time with his Grandparents.

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That beer list is pretty impressive. As is the beard on the guy in the bottom right.

Cheers to adults-only weekends!

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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
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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

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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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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” ???