Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Happy Campers

The Mr. and I took the kiddos camping.  What fun!  The wildlife was... er... friendly.  We had multiple nocturnal visits from Swampy the Raccoon and his sidekick Stinky, near-constant daytime companionship from Nutso the Insanely Brave Chipmunk, and we even had a pair of slugs (Sluggy and Leroy) attach themselves to the side of our tent.  Ahhh, wildlife.

I guess that campers in Wisconsin State Forests are doing their part to embolden the raccoons.  On the first night, one or two of them were noisily trying to break in to our second tent (we always put up two - a larger one for sleeping in and a smaller one for the kids to play in.  It keeps all the dirt and sand from their darling little feet off of my pillow).  On the second night, as The Mr. stayed up tending the fire, Swampy provided the distraction while Stinky opened our cooler (yes, the raccoon opened the cooler.  Without benefit of opposable thumbs even) and absconded with an unopened package of English muffins.  I almost heard him shouting "Victoryyyyyy!" as he fled into the woods.  Almost.

Same goes for the chipmunks.  Nutso stationed himself in the firewood bundle under our picnic table, and darted out (sometimes directly under Wunderkind's chair) to catch the crumbs.  Pretty smart to target the 4 1/2 year old.  I can imagine the Chipmunk Gathering Committee's Annual Strategy Meeting.  "Hang out by the short ones!  They're less dangerous and they tend to drop more!  Plus, they're more likely to give you the peanuts out of their trail mix."  Evil (and cute!) genius.

Speaking of the peanuts from the trail mix, we observed and recorded Nutso stuffing thirteen (yes, 13) dry-roasted peanuts into his cheeks.  It was unreal.  His head was bigger than the rest of his body.  When I asked Wunderkind what he thought Nutso was going to do with all those peanuts, he replied, "I think he's going to eat them while he watches a movie!"  Oh, didn't you know?  Apparently chipmunks now have some pretty impressive home theatre technology available to them.

The mosquitoes were, of course, out in full force.  I've most likely started some sort of genetic anomaly in my children, given the amount of DEET I applied to their little bodies in the past 3 days.  No ticks, though, so that's good.

We had such fun.  I'm home every day with the kids, but there's something about camping that really seals the bond.  The forced togetherness without benefit of technology may have something to do with it (thank you, Wisconsin, for not offering WiFi at any state parks.  Good call.) or maybe it's the novelty of hiking in the woods ("the ominous woods," Wunderkind corrects me) and playing in the crashing surf of Lake Michigan ("I'm going to call it the ocean," says Wunderkind) for the first time this year.  Could be the extra hand holding and snuggles around the campfire.  Maybe it's the magic of s'mores and pudgie pies.  Could be any of those things, most likely it's all of those things, plus getting to see all of it for the first time all over again through your child/ren. 

I'm glad to be home and clean and sleeping in my own bed tonight, but I'd be lying if I told you that I won't be thinking fondly of Swampy & Stinky... and Nutso... and even Sluggy & Leroy tonight.  May they feast upon English muffins and peanuts all of their days.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Oh, Dulce de Leche, why you got to be so delicious?

Ever have one of those days when you can't get enough salty?  Or you can't get enough sweet?  Or you can't get enough both?

Today was one of those sweet days.  So thank goodness for sweetened condensed milk, a 60-year-old pressure cooker, and about an hour and twenty minutes of my time.

You can find plenty of recipes for making dulce de leche (which is Spanish for, literally, "candy of milk") online, but here's the one I used - since I wanted more of a thin caramel sauce for vanilla ice cream rather than the thicker, spoonable variety.  Cook it longer if you like it thicker.

Take a pressure cooker.  Take a can of sweetened condensed milk with the paper label removed.  Put the can in the cooker.  Cover it (yes, cover it) with water.  Put the lowest pressure setting on.  Once you're at pressure, let it roll for about a half-hour.  Do a rapid release of pressure.  Take the can out and fully submerge it in ice cold water.  Let it sit there for 5, 10 minutes.  Open it up.  Try not to stick a straw in there and guzzle the whole can.

Wunderkind thought it was divine and declared me "best cook ever in the world."  That's some pretty heady praise coming from a connoisseur of mac n cheese (fancy mac n cheese if it has hot dogs in it) and PB&Js.  I'll take it!

Saturday, May 19, 2012

"Do you have anything like that?"

At 6:30 this morning, my 4 1/2 year old Wunderkind came bouncing out of his room wanting to know if it was time to go to the rummage sales yet.

What can I tell you?  The kid is a lot like his Grandpa Superwrench.  He's a social butterfly, he's a collector, he's out there looking for deals and socialization.

So, he and I went online to Craigslist, found a dozen local rummage sales, mapped a route, and counted up all his change.  He had about $15 in quarters, nickles and dimes, all dumped into a big Ziploc-style bag.  He was ready and raring to go.

While I was able to round out Sweetie Babe's summer and fall wardrobe (maybe even winter if she slows her grow a bit!), Wunderkind was looking to round out his stuffed animal collection.

As a side note: I know of some moms who impose limits on the number of stuffed animals each child can own.  I am so not one of those moms.  Wunderkind really digs on stuffed animals.  His imaginative play is often centered around stuffed animals finding themselves embroiled in dire peril, with other stuffed animals (or Wunderkind himself) coming to the rescue.  In order to have all that peril, you really do need a LOT of stuffed animals.  Now I just have to figure out how to store them all.  Watch for that in an upcoming post!

Another thing Wunderkind was looking to do was to bring something nice home to his baby sister that wasn't clothes.  He explained to me that you can't play with clothes.  I guess he's right.  I mean, I've never heard of a t-shirt being in dire peril... wait, that's a lie.  Many of The Mr.'s t-shirts are in dire peril of being put in the rag bin.  OK, then, I've never heard of a t-shirt in dire peril ever being saved by a beanie baby snake named Hissy.  There.  That is a true statement.

At several sales, Wunderkind marched up to the person looking most likely to be in charge and declared, "I'm Wunderkind.  I am four and a half, and I have a baby sister named Sweetie Babe and she's almost 8 months old.  She really likes pink, but not clothes.  Pink toys.  Do you have anything like that?" 

He repeated the message, almost verbatim, until he found a baby bath toy plush frog that ribbits when you squeeze its tummy and a plush flower holding a heart that says "love" betwixt its anthropomorphic leaf-hands.  He deliberated for some time over these two 25-cent items, concerned that, while the frog was, as he put it, "fantastic," it wasn't pink.  I assured him that she would like it just fine if it came from him.

When we got home, he left his other acquisitions lying on the floor of the minivan and bolted into he house clutching the frog and flower.  He held the frog out to Sweetie Babe.  A slow smile crept across her face as she reached out to hold the new frog... and promptly began gnawing on one of its bulbous blue eyeballs.

It was a beautiful moment to behold.

I thought Wunderkind's chest was going to burst right out of his t-shirt.  He was so very, very proud of himself and his toy-choosing prowess.  I'd be lying to you if I told you I wasn't pretty proud, myself.

Friday, May 18, 2012

I'm so busy I forgot to be bored

Before I quit my job to stay home with the kids full time, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to fill my days.

Ha!

It's crazy busy around here.  Wunderkind constantly needs help with something (or, more often, he wants to have a conversation spanning any number of topics from Phineas & Ferb to dinosaurs to the proper way to safely travel from Georgia to Minnesota.  Really.  I was informed yesterday that if you cross Georgia with Minnesota, you'll get a "wicked thunderstorm."  I have no idea where he gets this stuff).  Sweetie Babe doesn't allow me to be out of her line of sight for longer than 3 to 5 minutes at a stretch.  The kitchen is constantly getting dirty.  There are squirrels in my ceiling (yes, still).  Someone is always hungry or bored or needs to poop or just finished pooping.

For the record, I am absolutely not complaining.

Every day is a brand spanking new adventure.  The day is what I make it.  My only deadlines are naptimes and my bosses - while tyranical, unreasonable, and prone to histrionics - are also very, very cute, snuggly, and funny.  The chairman of the board of directors works hard to ensure continued success of the organization and affords me plenty of latitude in the way I manage the branch office.

The pay is horrible.  The benefits are amazing.

Today's adventure took us to Kenosha for a subdivision-wide rummage sale.  Wunderkind scored a sweet toy mixing board for $5 and a boatload of stuffed animals for under $4 total.  Sweetie Babe is  set for clothes for this summer and fall.  I even got some wicker furniture to slightly refurbish before putting it out on the patio.  Total spent: $58.

Wunderkind was a total trooper.  He developed a blister on the arch of his right foot while walking around the zoo yesterday but he toughed it out.  He also got much less sleep than he's accustomed to since he was so excited that he couldn't fall asleep in a timely manner and then was up before 6am today.  He was overheated, tired, hungry, crabby... and exceptionally polite, patient, and sweet to strangers and to his baby sister. I am so proud of him for his excellent behavior today.

He's still got $10 from his piggy bank and he wants to go rummage sale-ing again tomorrow.  I can't think of anything better to do with our time.

DJ Wunderkind with his new mixing board

Sweetie Babe modeling one of her new dresses

My ultimately refurbish-able wicker furniture

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Waste Not, Want Not (or how I learned to quit worrying and use the whole chicken)

Last week at my local Aldi, it seems the store manager greatly overestimated the demand for whole fresh chickens.  At $0.69/lb they were a good deal, but their sell-by date was the following day and there were a ton of 'em.  The manager's special was $2 off each bird.  If you do the math, you're looking at, on average, a cost of $0.04/lb.  And my chest freezer happened to have a whole lot of space available.
Cha-Ching!

I bought a little over 38 pounds worth of whole chickens for just under $10.50. 

You might think that the deal ends there, but do you have any idea how very economical a whole chicken is?  You can get at least 2 meals out of one chicken.  You get the roast chicken (meal 1), you get the "casserole meat" (meal 2, maybe even 3 and possibly 4) and you can boil down the carcass with some veggies (or not) to get stock - which is so very much better than any store-bought broth - and guess what, friends and neighbors?  You don't pay $1 for a 10 ounce can of it.

Today I roasted 2 chickens.  Wunderkind and I feasted on roast chicken with baked potatoes and grape tomatoes for lunch, and The Mr. enjoyed my signature chicken salad with apples and pecans for his supper.  I have a whole lot of chicken left over for our meals for the remainder of the week, and I have tons and plenty of stock frozen in ice cube trays for recipes coming up.  I even saved the fat I skimmed from the top of the stock to use as pan drippings for The Mr.'s omelet tomorrow morning. 

Not bad for $2.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Ceiling Squirrel of Doooooom

I'm brushing my teeth this morning, staring groggily into the bathroom mirror when I hear

scritch-scritch-scritch... squeak-squeak... scritch-scritch... scritch...

directly above my head.  In a bathroom with a drop-ceiling.  My eyes bug out and I freeze as I watch a tile - just above my head and slightly to the left - quiver in the mirror.  I drop my toothbrush, do a pretty respectable spin move out of the bathroom, and slam the door behind me, toothpaste still kind of dripping out of my mouth.

Ceilings - in case you haven't heard - are not supposed to quiver, scritch or squeak.

So there I am, looking crazed and foaming at the mouth (literally) when Wunderkind comes stumbling around the corner, his blanket (whom he has christened "Fefe") slung over his right shoulder, his left hand ostensibly holding in 12 hours' worth of pee.

"I gotta go potty, mom!"

"You can't.  You can't use this potty.  Use Dad's toilet." (My husband has a rudimentary "powder room" in the basement just off the laundry room.

"I can't use Dad's potty!  There's no door!  Everyone will think I'm a huge dork!"  I should pay closer attention to the dialogue in his cartoons; I have no idea where this pervasive idea that people are passing judgement on his level of dorkiness comes from.  I am also surprised to learn that, while peeing on a tree in the middle of a park is apparently a completely respectable activity, peeing in a partially-finished powder room - doorless though it may be - will make you look dorky.

"No one will think you're a dork.  There's some sort of animal in there."

"Is it Miss P?  Did she pee outside the litterbox again?"  Our older cat suffers from occasional incontinence.  Wunderkind is in danger of the same, as he is now dancing from foot to foot, all signs of sleepiness gone.

"No, there's a wild animal in there.  It might be a squirrel or a bird or something." I am silently and fervently praying that it is not a raccoon or opossum or, god forbid, several raccoons or opossums or, oh my god, hundreds of raccoons and opossums partying hardy in my bathroom ceiling.  I'm serious!  Have you seen that Infested show on The Discovery Channel?  The very thought of any sort of infestation makes me itch.

The Mr. comes downstairs, carrying Sweetie Babe.  He hands her to me.  "What's going on?"

Me: "We have a squirrel infestation."

WK: "I have to pee but I can't pee without a door because I don't want to be a dork!"

Mr.: "What is he talking about?"

Me: "There's something squeaking and scritching in the ceiling."

Mr.: "What?"

Me: "There's something squeaking and scritching in the ceiling!"

Mr.: "I heard you."

Silence.  I blink at The Mr. several times.  I have long since swallowed my toothpaste.

Me, very calmly and slowly: "There is vermin in the ceiling and I don't want to open the door because I don't want it to get us."

WK: "I... HAVE... TO... PEE!"

Mr.: "Whatever is in the ceiling won't attack while he's peeing."  He hands Sweetie Babe to me.  I retreat several paces.  He cracks the door open.  A ceiling tile is askew. 

A gray squirrel scritches, squeaks, and looks right at me, its beady little eyes bright and menacing, as if to say, "This bathroom ceiling is MINE, now!"

I squeak.  Sweetie Babe squeals in delight.  The Ceiling Squirrel of Doom retreats back into the ceiling.  Wunderkind wants to know if we can keep it.  The Mr. shuts the door, looks at me and says....

"There's a squirrel in there."

We eventually convince Wunderkind to do his bidness in Daddy's potty, I retreat with the children to the living room, The Mr. suits up in long pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt.  He arms himself with a broom handle and goes in to defend our home from the marauding squirrel invader.

Our strategy?  Open the bathroom window, remove the screen, and start jabbing the ceiling tiles until the mangy little bugger decides that a summer vacation home in my bathroom ceiling just isn't for him and retreats out the open window.  It's not a particularly good strategy, as minutes later, I hear the scritching and squeaking in the living room ceiling.  This is not a drop ceiling, which is better, but it is also further away from the open bathroom window, which is worse.

Eventually, our little visitor vacates the premises.  We see him streak past the back door.  Wunderkind is sad that he wasn't able to keep him and train him.  I'm sure he had visions of a trained and vermin-free squirrel perched upon his shoulder.  Sorry kiddo, not in this lifetime. 

And that, good readers, is the story of The Good Family's Adventures with the Ceiling Squirrel of Doom.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Thrift-Tacular!

I may have mentioned before that Wunderkind and I love to go thrifting.  The Mr., not so much.  But because today was Mother's Day, I gleefully guilted him into coming along with Wunderkind, Sweetie Babe, and and me.

The plan was to hit a whole bunch of rummage sales and end the day with a stop at one of our local Goodwill stores.  We struck out bigtime on the rummage front; apparently, most rummage sales are run by moms.  And as it so happens, most moms don't want to be running a rummage sale on Mother's day.  Huh.  Go figure.

Goodwill, on the other hand, operates under no such sentimental restrictions.  Wheeeee!

So, with Sweetie Babe in her stroller (just chillin' cause that's how she rolls) and Wunderkind bouncing maniacally from toy bin to toy bin like some sort of demented American Pickers devotee, The Mr. and I combed the racks of Goodwill in search of kick-butt deals.

Oh my-lanta did we ever hit it big.

We picked up a $200 2-kid bike trailer in near-mint condition for $9.99 (can I get a what-what for The Mr. and his eagle eye for deals???)

Wunderkind hunted and gathered (all the while delightedly trilling, "Lookit what I found!  Lookit this! Lookit over here!  Wooooah, tha'ss-a good deal!") at least $150 worth of toys for about $10 all together.

I came away at least $250 worth of clothes for me and Wunderkind for just under $20

Sweetie Babe scored a brand-new, still-in-its-packaging sippy cup (which she luuuuuuuurrrrrves, by the way... it sounded like she was making out with it.  Sloppily.) for $0.49 and a super-killer baby auto mirror that retails for over $20 (and I know because I've been trying to justify going out and purchasing a new one from our local Target store for months and months) for $2.

The Mr. even scored some supercool junk exceptionally useful items. 

It was one of those thrift-tacular days where around every corner, on every rack, something just stellar was waiting just for us.  The Gods of Thrifting smiled upon us today, my friends.  Nay, they beamed at us, and perhaps even patted us upon our stingy little heads, thus blessing us with boatloads of affordable awesome.

Re-retail therapy.  Ahhhh...  Feels good.

Friday, May 11, 2012

If you put enough flowers on just about anything, it will probably look OK.

I make some pretty cute cakes every now and then, but today's cake turned into the leaning lump of what-the-hell.

However, if you put enough Tiffany-blue flowers on just about anything, it will probably turn out OK.





Thursday, May 10, 2012

Get Your Durkenunder On

When I was a kid, my dad used to fry up these things called Durkenunders.  I have no idea if I'm spelling it right, but it doesn't matter, because it seems like our little family is the only one in the world that has these fabulous little hunks of scrambled pancakey goodness.  I have Googled and Googled, but I've never found even a single mention of them.  And more's the pity, really.  So, here you go, World Wide Interwebs.  Get you some Durkenunders.

My dad's mom used to make them... her mother and mother in law made them... their mothers made them... they're apparently an old German recipe that's (maybe) somewhat common to the Upper Penninsula of Michigan.  I know that my grandmother's great-grandmother (that's... uh... 5 generations back?) came over from Bavaria when she was 4 years old, and she made them.  That's about as far back as I can trace them, given that we are most likely pronouncing and spelling the name wrong.

We always had our Durkenunders with pure maple syrup from Jasper's Sugar Bush (best maple syrup in the world, hands down!) but I'm told that they can be served with gravy, with vinegar, with jam... whatever you would put on pancakes or potatoes.  My favorite ways to top it are with Jasper's Sugar Bush maple syrup (for breakfast) or with a sprinkle of vinegar (for a quick side dish when you realize you forgot to scrub the potatoes), but you can do what you want with the toppings.

The recipe is very simple.

DO NOT change the recipe to make it healthier or lighter or whatever.  If you do, don't call it Durkenunders, 'cause it just won't be Durkenunders if you mess around with it.  I don't much care what you decide to top them with (if you can resist munching on them right out of the pan), but please, for the love of all that's delicious and good in this world, don't screw with the recipe unless you're going to rename it.

Take about a cup of flour, two eggs, a pinch or two of salt, and enough milk to make a thick batter.  It will look like pancake batter, but it should be thicker.  The more you beat it up, the better it will be, so don't wimp out.

Now, melt some butter in a frying pan.  Yes, it has to be butter.  Again, don't go trying to low-calorie-ify my childhood, please.  It's best if you use real salted butter in a real cast-iron frying pan.  If you absolutely must use something other than butter, please stop making this recipe right now.  If you can't help yourself, fine, proceed... but don't call whatever you're making Durkenunders!

OK, so you've got your butter melted in your cast iron pan.  Dump all the batter in.  Yes, all of it.  It should be about 1/2 inch thick in the pan.

Wait for the edges to get bubbly.  Keep waiting.  No, not bubbly enough yet.  OK... now.

Attempt to flip the whole thing over.  If you get it over in one piece, hats off to you!  If you don't, don't sweat it; you're going to start hacking away at the whole thing anyway.

Start hacking with your spatula and break the Durkenunder into a lot of little Durkenunder pieces.  Get them to about the size of pieces of scrambled eggs.  When they're all hacked up, they should be just about cooked through.  Stir them around while they finish cooking, and then turn off the heat.  They can stay in the cast iron pan to keep warm.  If you're cooking on an electric cook top, make sure you remove the pan from the heating element you just used.

These are the absolute best with maple syrup.  Get some from the Sugar Bush!

Happy breakfasting!

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

You Don't Have to Know What You're Doing, Just Get In There and DO IT!

Wunderkind and I love to go thrifting.  I love being able to say YES! when he asks me if he can have something.  I also love to bring home projects.  There ain't nothin' Wunderkind loves more than a project.  He gets that from me.

Last June, Wunderkind and I found this chair for $5 at Goodwill.

And I thought to myself, "This upholstery is hideous!  This finish is hideous!  This chair is beautiful!  This chair is $5!"  And so, I hauled it home.  Wunderkind and I were going to reupholster it.  Pretty ambitious project for a hugely pregnant woman and a 3 1/2 year old kid.

It sat in my basement.

Six months later, after the birth of Sweetie Babe, I bought some white spray paint and some yellow upholstery fabric (I don't know the actual technical name for the type of upholstery fabric, so don't ask me).  Wunderkind and I ripped off the light purple velvety stuff and I sanded down the wood portions.  I had The Mr. spray paint it white.

It continued to sit in my basement.

I was so scared of screwing up the upholstery portion of it, I just didn't start.  And didn't start, and didn't start... until finally today, I decided to give it a go.

Wunderkind is my self-appointed helper in all things.  He and I headed down to the basement workshop once Sweetie Babe was down for her morning nap, and we got to work winging it.  Wunderkind held the hammer and acted as my cheering section (you have not lived until you've had a 4 1/2 year old cheering you on whilst you staple the living hell out of a piece of furniture) for Phase 1, and he held the hot glue sticks and acted as my cheering section (again, you seriously ought to look into getting a cheering section for all your hot glue gun related activities) for Phase 2.  He also claimed responsibility for testing the buoyancy of all seating surfaces.

He declared the seat bounce-worthy and informed me that it didn't even break when he used all his muscles on it.  Sweet.  I love a bounce-worthy seat that is also impervious to muscles.  All of 'em.

It took a couple of hours, but we were able to get all of the reupholstering done during Sweetie Babe's naps. (We had to take a break when she woke up early from her morning nap.  That's OK though, 'cause Phineas & Ferb was starting.  We needed our Agent P fix.)

And now I have this beautiful "new" chair.


This little baby is far from perfect, but you can sit on (remember, Wunderkind even bounced on it) and it seems to hold up OK.  I love how it looks and for my very first try I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.

Project costs:
Chair - $5
Fabric - $15 (excellent deal from Hancock Fabrics.  I love that place!!!)
Spray paint - $6 (it took 2 cans and multiple coats to get the finish right)

Tools:
Sand paper
Pliers (for ripping out upholstery staples)
Staple Gun 
Staples
Hammer
Scissors

Total time spent (not including the months and months it sat in the basement): 5 hours
- 1 hour to rip off upholstery
- 1 hour to sand it down
- 1 hour (total) to apply the spray paint (not including resting time between coats)
- 2 hours to reupholster

I wish I'd taken pictures of the whole process.  Next time for sure!

Monday, May 7, 2012

I'm sorry - did you just say you resign? Choosing to be a Stay at Home Mom

Nine months ago, I put in my notice at work and started on this Stay At Home Mom adventure.  I was surprised at how surprised everyone else was.  They asked questions.

Where are you going?


What will you do?


I'm sorry - did you just say that you're staying home with your kids?  But... but... what about your career???

There are a lot of glib answers to those questions - answers that sound kind of... well... snotty if you want to take them that way.  Answers like, "I wouldn't have had kids if I didn't want to raise them," and "I'm not paying someone else to raise my child!"

Those answers aren't really fair to working moms, or true in my situation, or at all indicative of the reasons my husband and I chose to have me stay home with the kidlets.  There's a grain of truth to them, sure, but I do fully and firmly believe that there are a whole ton and a bunch of women out there who do an amazing job working full time, being full-time moms, and really "having it all."

I'm just not one of them.

I'd be lying to you if I told you that I wasn't very, very nervous about what was going to happen when I no longer had the release/escape of working outside the home.  I'd be a big fat liar if I said to you that I wasn't worried about a diminished family income, about how I'd single-handedly keep a household, about how I'd structure our days... there was a whole lot of unknown.  Still is.

That's what makes this such an adventure.

So come on.  Come along with me and I'll tell you what we do all day, every day.  I'll tell you how I fill and structure our days.  I'll tell you how I run the household on less than $40,000 a year for a family of four in the Greater Milwaukee Area.

Come along with me.  Let's have Adventures.