Tag: cooking

I’m so excited for the oven to be installed in the airstream. I want to cook with my mom in the airstream is chicken dinner. For dessert I like to bake a cake for with my mom.
This is a great gravy recipe



Another installment of my life is below. Life is not always Facebook pretty.

This morning: So picture me in yesterday’s yoga pants and tank top with plaid shirt over the top. I’m doing my morning chores, a little more relaxed because school is closed today due to the winter storm that is finishing up. While I’m making coffee, getting my 13 year old on the toilet to pee, drawing her bath, dishes, laundry, etc… I’m also reliving yesterday. Going through my head are the scenes from last night… And I step in dog poop in my new $10 flip flops from Santa.

I promise that I let the dog live. I didn’t want to…

Last night: The kids have been home for 2 weeks. I made a beautiful ham dinner that I call “thanksgiving” and it’s the same dinner I make every week to show gratitude weekly rather than yearly. Ham, gravy, peas, cranberry sauce, and special mashed potatoes. It’s pretty awesome and a favorite with my kids.

I call my kids in to the kitchen so I can make them a plate because, like us grow ups, kids don’t all like the same exact combo. 1 hates gravy, 1 loves cranberry sauce, 1 wants meat ONLY and the other needs small bites with extra gravy in a bowl with delivery.

So I’m feeling like a slave. I’m stressed. Money is tight post Christmas and I just got another property tax bill and I’m awaiting a giant gas bill from having to keep the heat higher than ever (in my entire life) so Rachel’s toes don’t’ fall off from circulation issues.

So I’m stressed. Feeling financial pressure. I’m stuck inside another day.

I finally make myself a plate and walk into the dining area. One of my children has removed all of the chairs to make a fort and there is nowhere to sit. No one looks up or waits for me to eat. I’m a provider of sustenance who is stressed out and tired.

And I lose my shit.

Threw my dinner out. Chewed one of my kids out. Stormed off into the kitchen and chucked my dinner plate into the sink and it smashes. Everywhere. Three kids sniffling over their dinners, one confused and refuses to eat. I feel horrible.

I start cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and doing the dishes. I call their Dad on the phone to be backup and he is unavailable.

I’m a mess. Stressed out. Emotionally spent. Help is not coming.

I get one son bathed and send my other son in for a bath afterwards. I’ve tasked my healthy daughter to play with her sister. I’m still in the kitchen.

And then Rachel has a horribly magnificent seizure. She turns blue. I feel like I’m outside my body. I’ve just freaked my kids out and now they are freaked out seeing and hearing their sister.

And now I’m crying, holding my daughter, turning her head to the side, feeling her saliva roll down my hand. I call my best friend and cry on the phone while Rachel is still seizing and tell her “I quit.”

I’m not cut out for this.

No one is.

I finally tracked my husband down and got him to come to the house to reassure the kids. There is no pride to swallow.

Another snow day today and I rescinded my resignation.

My brother, the OLD one in Kansas City (ha ha) is a fantastic foodsmith. What is a foodsmith, you ask? It is someone who, in my opinion, can made a gourmet meal out of food scraps. While we were visiting him and his family a few weeks ago we got to try some of his fresh jam that was made out of his home grown strawberries. I’ve wanted to make jam ever since, and with a little help from my Mom (doing a Wal*Mart run) and my brother sharing his secrets, I was able to make my very own jam for John and the kids.

I am amazed at how easy it was to make and how delicious it tasted. I never want to eat store jam again! Here is the finished product: