Cooking 101

Well, it just wouldn't be a normal day if Clay didn't get into something.

I was lying in bed this morning, not asleep, yet not quite awake yet either. I cracked one eye open and glanced at the clock. Ugh. Ten more minutes. I'll get up in ten more minutes, I thought. I smelled something cooking. Who was cooking? Joe's at work. The kids are asleep. Ohhh, I know! Joe must have put the chicken in the crock pot before he left for work. Wow, that chicken is going to fall off the bones and be mush if it cooks that long. I wonder why Joe put the chicken in before he left for work at 4:00 this morning? It smells like it's burning too. I wonder if he put any liquid in with it?

I decided to get up and check on the chicken and pour some water over it. I got up, walked into the kitchen, and my feet stuck to the floor. Huh? I looked down and saw what appeared to be egg smeared all over the floor. A peek at the egg shells in the sink and the yolk covered paper towels in the garbage confirmed my thoughts.

Before cleaning up the sticky egg mess, I checked on the crock pot. The crock pot that didn't have a chicken in it. It wasn't plugged in. It was empty.

Wait. How can that be? I smell something cooking. What on earth is that smell? I look around the kitchen. I look in the oven. I walk through the house sniffing, saying, "What IS that smell?"
Clay, who is awake and sitting in the family room answers me.
"It's eggs, Mom!"
"What do you mean, 'It's eggs'?"
"I wanted eggs for breakfast."
"Did you try to cook eggs?" I asked horrified.
"Yes!" Clay answers proudly.
He ran to the microwave, opened the door, and pulled out a coffee cup with what was once an egg, but is now a hard, yellow/brown, sponge looking, hockey puck.

This is the part where I freaked out. We can skip the details.

Then I cleaned up the sticky egg goo that had been smeared all over the floor while thanking God that Clay didn't burn the house down or hurt himself. On the bright side, it's been almost a year since his last cooking escapade (where he put a package of microwave popcorn, still encased in cellophane, in the microwave for 55 minutes and 55 seconds) so at least it's not a regular thing.

Look at this egg. See all that white stuff? He put a handful of kosher salt on it first. No plain ole, unseasoned eggs for this guy.

Looks a little like a natural sea sponge, no? Who knew an egg could look quite like this.

After the cooking eggstravaganza, I took my middle daughter to the doctor because she's been sick for a couple days and started running a fever today. When I got home, I walked to the kitchen to make the kids lunch. I heard someone run to the bathroom. I heard the door close and the toilet seat slam open. I heard all these things yet they didn't totally register. Do you know what I mean? Even though I was concentrating on making lunch, I was picking up little bits and pieces of what was going on in the rest of the house. Even though I was in another part of the house, concentrating on something else, I knew that Clay was going to the bathroom.

I asked the kids if they wanted celery or apples and heard Lexi's and Clay's replies from the family room. What? The family room? But he's in the bathroom. Isn't he? I walk to the bathroom only to find Brooklyn there. Standing IN the toilet. Yep, there she was, socks on, standing in the water.

Then at dinner, I was delighted to learn that the kids had taught Brooklyn a new word. Chickenbutt. This should be part of every one year old's vocabulary, no? Ugh.

Hooray for bedtime.

Why is the Fish Green?

My husband cooked dinner tonight. He put some white fish fillets on a baking sheet. He looked around for something to use as seasoning. After perusing the spice jars and the shelves in the refrigerator, the best idea he came up with was lemon-lime Kool Aid.
Yep, he poured a packet of sugar-free lemon-lime Kool Aid on the fish and baked it.
I walked through the kitchen, as he took the tray out of the oven, and saw the neon green fillets.
"What the crap did you put on the fish???"
"It's a surprise."
"Seriously! What IS that???"
"Seasoning."
"Ummm, I have to run some errands right now. I'll be home after dinner."
I took my oldest daughter and we ran out the door went to the mall to exchange some clothes.
My husband called me shortly after we arrived at the store and said, "You were right. The fish was gross. We're eating pizza now."
In case anyone has ever wondered if lemon-lime Kool Aid would make a good subsitute for fresh lemon juice, the answer is a resounding NO.
I only wish I'd thought to take a picture of this culinary creation.

TURN IT OFF!!!

I was making some pumpkin bread today because I'm such an awesome homemaker and that's just the kind of thing I do. No? Would you believe that I was making it because I had a sweet tooth attack and there was nothing good to eat in the house despite the fact that I'd gone to the grocery store just last night? I knew I should've saved some cookies for today!
So I was making pumpkin bread when my three year old wandered into the kitchen.

CLAY: Whatcha doing, Mommy? Are you making a birthday cake for me?
ME: Is it your birthday?
CLAY: Yes!
ME: Really? (in case you're wondering, it is not his birthday) How old are you now?
CLAY: One, two, three, five, six, eleven!
ME: Eleven? Wow! You're getting pretty old.
CLAY: You're really old Mom.
ME: Gee thanks, hon. Well, I'm not making a birthday cake today. I'm making pumpkin bread.
CLAY: Can I help you?
ME: Oh please no! Don't you want to go watch something stupid on television instead. Sure!

So I measured the ingredients and Clay poured them into my mixer. I let him smell the cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves before spooning them out. He thought they smelled so good that he shared with Brooklyn and let her smell the container of nutmeg too. She took a nice big sniff, inhaled 1/2 a teaspoon of nutmeg, proceeded to cry, rub her nose and sneeze out brownish, nutmeg-colored snot. Note to self - next time no sniffing the ingredients before measuring and pouring.

So far, so good. He's actually doing a good job and is getting the ingredients mostly IN the bowl. I showed him how to turn my mixer on low speed and he had fun watching the bread dough combine. I added the last two cups of flour and turned around to put the measuring cup in the sink when Clay turned my mixer on. High speed. The highest speed ever. It looked like it was snowing in my kitchen. Flour poofed out everywhere. Have you ever had improvements that required drywall done in your house? You know that drywall dust that clings to everything for months? Flour might just be worse. I, of course, used the utmost calm as I called to Clay to turn off the mixer while I ran across the kitchen.

ME: Turn it off! OFF! Clay! TURN OFF THE MIXER!!! CLAY TURN IT OFF! OFF! OFF!!!!!! CLAAAAAY!!!! TURN IT OFF!!!!

Because I maintained such a serene disposition, Clay freaked out and turned the mixer up even higher. Boy, it was fun times around here. After I got the flour explosion cleaned up, I got to clean up Brooklyn who was playing in the flour and licking it up off the counters. Mmmm, who needs butter, pumpkin, spices, or eggs when you've got delicious plain ole flour.

I can't wait til we start making Christmas cookies! I make a LOT of Christmas cookies. Cookies are the best food group, after all.

Several of you have asked me for an update on Julian. Here he is his first day in FL... What a way to spend your vacation - in the hospital. :( At least he's got some cool friends around him!

According to the update on his Carepages, he had a good day yesterday and the whole family had fun. Here's a much better picture of a little boy having fun! Thank you for your prayers. I know Mimi and her family really appreciate them!

Oh yeah - if you're looking for interesting (in a good way) gift ideas, check out Mamaslike.

Paula Deen Does Not Have to Worry About Losing Her Job

First I have a shameless plug for my auction running on Ebay right now. Check it out if you have a minute. Click to watch this auction, and write me a comment if you're so inclined. Thank you!

My kids love to watch The Food Network. They enjoy trying out new recipes. Many times we've pulled an Alton Brown, Rachel Ray, or Paula Deen recipe off Foodnetwork.com and worked together to make it. Other times, however, my kids decide to come up with interesting concoctions on their own. Today my 12 year old son made donuts. At least that's what he said they were. In the process, he managed to melt my slotted spoon.

I thought you said the oil was 300 degrees?

It was! I think. I'm pretty sure. Wait, did you say three-hundred?

I wish I had taken a picture of my kitchen before I helped him clean up. It looked something like this.

After that my 3 year old broke a picture frame. How, you ask? He scaled the wall, Spiderman style, and knocked the frame off the wall.

A little later in the day, my 6 year old innocently closed the back storm door and a pane of glass fell out.

Such is a day in the life of me.

Mmmm appetizing, no? Light, fluffy buttermilk donuts with a dusting of cinnamon and sugar. Or something like that.

My poor slotted spoon

Just How Much Pineapple Did You Feed the Baby?

I'm not a morning person. In fact, I've never been a morning person. I used to drive my mother insane each and every morning when I was a kid. My mom was and still is a morning person. You know the type - they jump out of bed happily humming along with the birds, they make their bed, shower, dress, cook breakfast, read the paper, discover life on another planet, and invent a car that runs on mud all before 5:00am. This is my mom. I, on the other hand, am the kind of person that hits the snooze button on the alarm clock fifty-three times before throwing the clock against the wall, pulling the covers up around my head, and falling back asleep.

I can stay up until 3:00 in the morning without blinking an eye, but when 7:00 am rolls around, I still play the snooze alarm game on a daily basis. My children, however, are small versions of my mother who delight in waking me up by running through the house, shrieking the blood curdling screams of a bad actor in a horror movie about to be slashed by an ax wielding madman. It's a great way to start the day with an ulcer.

After a particularly bad week of the kids waking up super early and being super crazy in the morning, they surprised me. On Saturday morning, I slept until 9:00! That's unheard of in my house. NINE O'CLOCK! Know how I awoke this particular Saturday morning at 9:00? I awoke to my two oldest children bringing me breakfast in bed. I was certain that either

A. I was in the Twilight Zone and those were not my children, but cyborgs programmed to cook or

B. I was on Candid Camera

They came in my room carrying a cookie sheet which they used as a tray. On the cookie sheet, was a stack of pancakes with syrup, a plate of toast with jelly, and a glass of orange juice. Wow! After being reassured that the two kids bringing me my breakfast were indeed my children and not aliens who'd taken over their bodies, I took a bite of the pancakes only to discover that they weren't actually pancakes. I'm not certain what they were, but they were definitely not pancakes. First, they were black, and I'm pretty sure I've never seen pancakes quite this shade of black at IHOP. Secondly, I remembered that we were out of eggs. How did they make pancakes without eggs? Lastly, what were they doing using the stove? I mentally thank God that they didn't hurt themselves or burn down the house while flipping flapjacks, then I choked down every last bite of that breakfast because that's what moms do. We appreciate all the little things our kids do for us from the burnt, chewy pancake breakfasts to the homemade Mother's Day cards, to the mud pies and dandelion bouquets. I know that all too soon, these days will be gone.

Oh yeah - where were the other four children while my oldest two were playing Emeril in the kitchen? Well, three of them were watching a movie. And the baby was sitting in her high chair eating the breakfast that my two oldest prepared for her. It was a breakfast of pineapple. Yep, that's it. Just pineapple. A whole big can of pineapple. It was so thoughtful of my oldest kids to try and help out and give the baby breakfast like that, that I just didn't have the heart to tell them that they had given the baby enough citric acid to last a year and a half. The baby's poor little butt burst into flames every time she pooped for the next two days. I don't think I've ever used so much diaper cream in my life. Still, it was a wonderful gesture on my kids' part. So wonderful, in fact, that I hardly noticed the pancake batter splattered all over the stove and the orange juice spilled on the floor and the jelly on the counter tops and the bread sitting on the counter drying out in the open bag. Hardly.