R. informed me today that daddy is bringing her a tambourine. Let me tell you, I was hoping his flight was landing so I could let him that under no circumstances is he to bring her a tambourine. Our house is loud enough without a tambourine. K. translated for me and said "She means a souvenir".
Speaking of K. and souvenirs, I went to Chinatown with my brother the other day. K. wanted me to bring a souvenir back for him. I asked what on earth I would bring back as a souvenir. His reply? You could bring me a mug with Chinese on it. How does a 6 year old know that a mug is the most cliche souvenir possible?! He was so serious. So sorry son. I brought you rice noodles from Chinatown and cheese and cherries from Italian Market. I hope you live. For the record, he loves food. It worked.
Anyway, back to today. As soon as they saw Dave's flight had landed via flight tracker, that amazing thing. K. said, "Oh good. Now he's coming home." E. said, "Um no. He just got there. You want souvenirs?" Of course K. and R. answered "yes". "Well, you're going to have to wait a few days for him to come home then." "Ok". They will gladly endure daddy being gone a few days to get souvenirs. Me? I am just wondering how I am going to survive.
I did get the car up our icy drive all by myself. We've had to park it at the bottom since the snow came. Go me! Haha. I know I am a good source of entertainment for the Mexican guys at the mushroom farm. Oh well, some one has got to keep it fun, right?
Here's how it goes -
Shovel out ice
Reverse van
Gun van up and around curve into driveway
Slide around
Pray I don't end up in the little gully on the side of the drive
Come to a sliding halt halfway up
Get out
Shovel more ice
Repeat steps 1-7
At this point, dump truck, including the same dump truck driver, I hit almost a year ago, hops out of his truck and asks if I can't get OUT of driveway. Ok, guess he missed the show. He also states tha tnext time maybe they can bring a "tractor" up to scrape some of the ice off. For the record, the "tractor" is a big scoop dozer whose bucket goes 1.5 stories in the air and can "plow" a driveway under 1.5 ft. of snow in a minute. They helped us last year. He's my hero.
Repeat steps 1-6
Hop out of car and feel like "THE woman!"
So where's my coffee? And when is my husband going to be home?
Monday, January 23, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
"Englisch" People Cook Too
I grew up conservative Mennonite and one thing about all "plain" folk is we know how to cook or pity the husband whose wife doesn't. I have been baking and cooking since I was 6. I couldn't use our stove that young because we had an old old old fashioned gas range that you had to light with a match but I was making pies and mixing cookie dough at that point.
At 9 I was doing the full 9 yards and learning how to prep vegetables for canning. At 12 I was canning and could cook a full Thanksgiving meal on my own. In other words, I know how to cook.
I love it. It could have been drudgery for me but honestly, the only indoor "women's work" I enjoyed was cooking and baking. As the oldest with a 7 year gap before the first son this worked well for my father. I could go from working in the wood shop or yard to cooking for mom.
Fast forward to now. I can cook so many more things than "plain cooking". It comes naturally to me but is made so much easier by the fact that I have a good foundation - years of cooking.
I went to a school reunion last year and had a great time. Some were surprised due to different reasons, the main one being it was a Mennonite school and we left a long time ago. Honestly, I was a bit nervous. It was a mixed experience. I can still hear some of the ugly things that were said to me there as a student since I wasn't a popular girl. However, I went because I had a core group of girl friends who didn't care if I was just like them or not. It was one of the few places that I felt accepted for who I was - in my life. When my family left the Mennonite church they didn't just drop me. We stayed in as much contact as we could for a while. Age and time tend to make you drift apart - we left when I was finished with 6th grade.
While at the reunion, there were also people who didn't like me then, don't like me now. That much was obvious. No, not that they didn't like me but the "outsider" attitude was still blatantly there.
It was also painfully obvious that they talked to me because curiosity allowed nothing else. I was slightly grilled on where my family is, what they are doing, what I am doing, what my husband does. No big deal. I am "proud" of our family.
Then came the slightly rude question and point of my post. "Do you cook for your family?" Try answering that with a straight face. I was imagining what life would be like if I didn't cook for my family. It was all I could do not to laugh. "Why no. Why should I do that? I simply order out for 5 people every night."
I am that curiosity called "Englisch" and that's ok with me. To answer the question, "Yes, I do cook for my family. I just might even make more things from scratch then you do." (Of course I didn't say that.)
Maybe you wonder at the point of this post. I assure you I have no earth shattering reason to post it. Sometimes things just go round and round in my brain and it helps to get it out there. A lesson? Hmmmm.... I guess it's whatever you get from it. For me, it just reminds me of how fickle stereotypes are and why I try to be careful in what I view the world around me as.
At 9 I was doing the full 9 yards and learning how to prep vegetables for canning. At 12 I was canning and could cook a full Thanksgiving meal on my own. In other words, I know how to cook.
I love it. It could have been drudgery for me but honestly, the only indoor "women's work" I enjoyed was cooking and baking. As the oldest with a 7 year gap before the first son this worked well for my father. I could go from working in the wood shop or yard to cooking for mom.
Fast forward to now. I can cook so many more things than "plain cooking". It comes naturally to me but is made so much easier by the fact that I have a good foundation - years of cooking.
I went to a school reunion last year and had a great time. Some were surprised due to different reasons, the main one being it was a Mennonite school and we left a long time ago. Honestly, I was a bit nervous. It was a mixed experience. I can still hear some of the ugly things that were said to me there as a student since I wasn't a popular girl. However, I went because I had a core group of girl friends who didn't care if I was just like them or not. It was one of the few places that I felt accepted for who I was - in my life. When my family left the Mennonite church they didn't just drop me. We stayed in as much contact as we could for a while. Age and time tend to make you drift apart - we left when I was finished with 6th grade.
While at the reunion, there were also people who didn't like me then, don't like me now. That much was obvious. No, not that they didn't like me but the "outsider" attitude was still blatantly there.
It was also painfully obvious that they talked to me because curiosity allowed nothing else. I was slightly grilled on where my family is, what they are doing, what I am doing, what my husband does. No big deal. I am "proud" of our family.
Then came the slightly rude question and point of my post. "Do you cook for your family?" Try answering that with a straight face. I was imagining what life would be like if I didn't cook for my family. It was all I could do not to laugh. "Why no. Why should I do that? I simply order out for 5 people every night."
I am that curiosity called "Englisch" and that's ok with me. To answer the question, "Yes, I do cook for my family. I just might even make more things from scratch then you do." (Of course I didn't say that.)
Maybe you wonder at the point of this post. I assure you I have no earth shattering reason to post it. Sometimes things just go round and round in my brain and it helps to get it out there. A lesson? Hmmmm.... I guess it's whatever you get from it. For me, it just reminds me of how fickle stereotypes are and why I try to be careful in what I view the world around me as.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
"I'm Gonna Die!"
Tonight Kieran took a leap and jumped on the couch. He just so happened to jump on a pencil his brother left there and stabbed his leg.
He was screaming hysterically in the livingroom and I was in the kitchen, with no clue what he was trying to say. I asked him to come to me (not realizing he was hurt, since he is my dramatically loud kid). Well, he comes to the kitchen screaming "I'm hurt. I'm gonna die!" Seriously, at this point I can't even see where he is hurt. It just looks like he has a spot of ink on his leg. He got closer and I was able to get the full story but he just kept freaking out. "I'm going to die. I am so scared. I am super freaked out. I'm gonna die."
At this point I felt horrible but at the same time...I was trying to hide my laughter. Really child? A small pencil wound and "you're gonna die???!!" Of course it didn't help when I squeezed his leg so the blood started trickling down it (he thought it was a river) and he was sure that I was going to make him bleed to death. I explained that the blood helps get the bacteria/germs out and that was all I was doing. It was hardly any blood and I thought he would survive.
After I cleaned the blood off he took a good look at it and says "Oh, I thought it went the whole way through." REALLY? Seriously? YES! He thought that was all the pain and blood there would be if he poked it clear through his leg?
He finally calmed down and we put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it. My macho boy who HATES pink AND Hello Kitty has a pink Hello Kitty bandaid on because obviously that will keep him from bleeding to death.
He just kept saying over and over " I was so nervous I was going to die. I thought I was going to bleed to death." I asked him why he was scared he would die and he said "'Cause I would never get to move or anything."
So I said, "Well sweetie, do you think you would go to Heaven?"
"Well yeah, but it would be boring. I would have nothing to do there."
The conversation went on but fast forward to a few hours later....
As I type this I am laughing hysterically as I am relaying parts that Dave missed. Eann just piped up from the bedroom, "At least he's asleep." Oops, thought HE was asleep. Someday Kieran's going to want to kill me for this. For now can it be our secret?
He was screaming hysterically in the livingroom and I was in the kitchen, with no clue what he was trying to say. I asked him to come to me (not realizing he was hurt, since he is my dramatically loud kid). Well, he comes to the kitchen screaming "I'm hurt. I'm gonna die!" Seriously, at this point I can't even see where he is hurt. It just looks like he has a spot of ink on his leg. He got closer and I was able to get the full story but he just kept freaking out. "I'm going to die. I am so scared. I am super freaked out. I'm gonna die."
At this point I felt horrible but at the same time...I was trying to hide my laughter. Really child? A small pencil wound and "you're gonna die???!!" Of course it didn't help when I squeezed his leg so the blood started trickling down it (he thought it was a river) and he was sure that I was going to make him bleed to death. I explained that the blood helps get the bacteria/germs out and that was all I was doing. It was hardly any blood and I thought he would survive.
After I cleaned the blood off he took a good look at it and says "Oh, I thought it went the whole way through." REALLY? Seriously? YES! He thought that was all the pain and blood there would be if he poked it clear through his leg?
He finally calmed down and we put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it. My macho boy who HATES pink AND Hello Kitty has a pink Hello Kitty bandaid on because obviously that will keep him from bleeding to death.
He just kept saying over and over " I was so nervous I was going to die. I thought I was going to bleed to death." I asked him why he was scared he would die and he said "'Cause I would never get to move or anything."
So I said, "Well sweetie, do you think you would go to Heaven?"
"Well yeah, but it would be boring. I would have nothing to do there."
The conversation went on but fast forward to a few hours later....
As I type this I am laughing hysterically as I am relaying parts that Dave missed. Eann just piped up from the bedroom, "At least he's asleep." Oops, thought HE was asleep. Someday Kieran's going to want to kill me for this. For now can it be our secret?
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