I would be a jerk if I kept this to myself…

Ok, so I usually try to avoid pure recipe posts, because I’m not running a food blog. (Though I might some day…) But I would be a jerk if I kept this awesomeness to myself. I did my meatloaf recipe differently tonight, just on a random hunch. And it was UH-mazing. Here’s the mix: (Bear in mind, tablespoonish measurements are estimated. I’m an eyeballer.)

1 lb 93/7 hamburger

1 box stovetop stuffing

2 eggs

2 tbsp ketchup

2 tbsp worcestershire

1 tbsp minced garlic

Stock up on these in November when they go 10 for $10– they keep endlessly!

Smoosh it up with your hands. Roll it into balls big enough to fit into <sprayed> muffin tin. Plop em’ in. (I only used 10 of the cups.) 400 degrees, 30 minutes. They were moist, but not smushy in the middle. And they were not hard and crusty on the outside. Just perfect little meaty, loafy balls. They came out contained enough for little ones to pick up and eat by hand. (Think muffin.) I’m not going to admit that I also preferred this method.

The reason I found this recipe to be worth sharing, other than of course tasting absolutely delicious, is that it cut out choosing the right seasonings and worrying about how much of this or that, and made the mixing super-easy. The stuffing is already seasoned, so other than a little ketchup, worcestershire, and garlic, nothing else was necessary. And one pound of meat per one box of stuffing yielded the perfect consistency.  So it saved time, mess, and money. And THAT is something we all can appreciate!

Love always,

The dramafreemama

That’s a mighty big meatball you’re holding…

It’s not about the gifts… but isn’t it?

So it’s been a week since Mother’s day has come and gone… and I’m finally getting around to expressing my thoughts on the shit-show that befell me this year. And I dedicate this post to my husband, Newman, the most hopeless gift-picker-outter on the planet Earth. And to my beautiful son, Zachary,who knows when to be on his most terrible-twosome behavior. Here’s how it began….

7:14 AM- Hubby did the courteous thing and got up with Zac so I could sleep a little longer, but classic two-year-old behavior was in full swing. Like some sort of full moon + teething + growth spurt madness. Though none of those causes were about, so it was just random lunacy?  So seeing as I could hear Newman struggling to maintain sanity and dignity, I figured I may as well get up and be crazy too. I hear crazy loves company–plus, I am not one to watch or listen to someone have a hard time and just sit/lie there and do nothing to help. That’s just hard for me to do. The same cannot be said for all members of my household… but I digress.

So I walked hazily to the kitchen for a cup of coffee… the last <almost> cup in the pot. Scorched. Gross. Drank half of it anyway. Poured the other half over the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

Next came “Oh honey, we have a present for you…”  Now, mind you, the aforementioned description of my husband. I had a feeling this was going to be dicey. But I was not prepared for the level of lame that my husband apparently felt challenged to deliver. Anyone who says “It’s not about the gifts”… is a big fat liar-face. Sure, it’s about the gifts. That’s why there are  special calendar holidays set aside to give them to people– notable example, “MOTHER’S DAY.” Fathers get their day in June. Jesus in December. Lovers in February. Kids get every other friggin day of the year. [fact] Now it is absolutely true that it is absolutely not about the amount of money spent on the gift… but it most certainly IS about some time and thought put into finding something special, just for the recipient of honor. Especially if said recipient made a whole human. That’s just science. So, last Sunday was my turn. And I was jilted.

You see, my husband likes to go for the “hodge-podge” gift. This is a bag of miscellaneous goodies/sundries that the recipient likes or uses regularly, and the giver assembles said items in a gift bag or basket of choice. Where this is appropriate for my stocking at Christmas time, it is a thoughtless replacement for actual sentiment on Mother’s Day. A hodge-podge bag is what you do when you don’t know what to do, or when you can’t find something appropriate in a reasonable price-range. This tactic should only be used once a year, at the most, and is best executed with a theme. (ie- coffee related items, beach related items, bookish related items etc.) Something related to a hobby or interest of that person! Here’s what my (re-used) bag contained on this epic Mother’s Day 2012:

Pack one of these in my lunch every day for a month and I might forgive this lame-ass gift bag.

1 Nutella To-Go pack Zac and I shared this immediately. It was cute. And I do love Nutella. So far so good. It goes downhill from here.

A bottle of Morning Fresh scent germ-X™ Really? This says to me– “Happy Mother’s Day! You’re icky!” or “Cheers! It’s allergy season!” Speaking of allergies…

2 boxes of Benedryl™ tabs Nothing says “you’re special” like antihistamine from the 88-cent bin at Wal-Mart?!

Reeses™ Cups HIS favorite Candy. Look, and there’s 2 in the pack! How thoughtful.

A king sized Kit-Kat Uh, random! I haven’t bought one of these at any time in my adult memory. They’re not horrible, just not my choice. Anyone who has ever taken me to the movies knows my favorite is Whoppers and sour gummies. Duh.

Had this been Phineas & Ferb, my disdain might have been slightly less….

A tiny Disney™ princess flashlight What the hell? PSSST- I’m nearly 30. And hardly a princess. And I have a free flashlight App on my phone. Idiot.

A Burt’s bees chapstick.Of which I already have 2. Backup?

A framed picture of Zac Almost a sweet idea, except the frame said World’s Best Mom and contained a blurry picture of Zachary from when he was about 8 months old. FAIL.

A honeysuckle scented jar candle. Not bad. If we are going for impersonal office Pollyanna gifts.

And, um, yeah. That’s it.

So I pulled out each item, thanked my husband politely and gracefully, and acted excited with Zachary over the $4 Hallmark card he scribbled in. (Ahem–most Moms prefer homemade cards, on this holiday in particular.) And then I cleared the sink’o'dishes and made everyone breakfast. (Raise your hand if you see what else is wrong with this picture.) Yeah I know; I said the same thing in my head.

Zac’s tantrums continued intermittently through lunchtime. My back was aching from carrying him back and forth to the Time-Out seat. My shins ached from being kicked on the way there. I finally wised up and changed him out of his sneakers and back into slippers. Bear in mind, Zachary rarely behaves this way. He is an even-tempered little guy, typically happy, a little toddler-ish in his “MINEisms,” but usually pretty easy-going. I didn’t know who this evil monster was, but I didn’t like him. And that was making me feel terribly guilty.  My head was hurting and tears were beginning to form, but I was trying to be a big girl. Nap time finally brought some relief, but I was filled with anxiety about how cranky he would wake up, and more guilt because I know how lucky I am that he is healthy enough to be so cantankerous. Would our after afternoon plans be spoiled as badly as my morning was? Would this day just end already?

I would have treasured this for 100 years or more…
(photo cred: http://growingoptimism.com/)

So anyway, I’m mad. Maybe selfishly so, but I don’t care. Newman could have taken HALF the money he spent on that bag of random crap and bought me a plant and had Zac fingerpaint the pot. Clever, simple, thoughtful. And super cheap! <Hmmm… messy, handprinty Pinterest-worthy craft idea forming.> Or he could have bought be a pedicure and a frap and left me alone for an hour. Let me also say that I have SIX SISTERS. Yes, I said SIX. And two girlfriends that live on our street! So it wouldn’t have been difficult for my husband to sleuth out what I might like for Mother’s Day.  I have 14 boards on Pinterest that are dedicated to shit I like. I’m kind of an open book.  But not one item in that stupid bag said “I love you. You’re a good mom. And I think about you and what makes you tick.” Hell, most of it didn’t even say “We’ve met twice.”

I didn’t want diamonds. (I mean, I’ll take em’! But I don’t require them.) I wanted sentiment and time. But I know he did what a lot of husbands do–he went to Wal-mart on Saturday and gathered up whatever was handy and charged it to my credit card. (What? You mean to tell me I am paying 10.9% interest on Nutella™? Seriously, $%$&  you.)  Perhaps I am being ungrateful, but I truly would rather he just didn’t bother at all. I don’t need anything fancy or expensive, but I need better than Benedryl™.

So husbands, sons, boyfriends, and other shopping defunct members of society– Here’s a simple message. Gifts for your loved ones are thoughtful items that the recipient would not ordinarily buy for themselves. Gifts are related to the recipient’s interests. Gifts can be hand-crafted, ESPECIALLY for Mother’s Day!  Gifts are not ever, ever, ever hand-sanitizer.

I hope I have done other lousy gift recipients of the world a service by making it known to all who read and share this…

That it most certainly IS about the gifts.

PS- For Father’s Day, I’m planning to get Newman a can of Skoal™ and a bag of Doritos.™

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Please post in a comment to this post the worst gift you have ever received… I would love to know who can top the bag’o'fun, circa Mother’s Day 2012. Though I’m fairly certain it shall go down in history…

 

 

If you can’t say something nice…

WHYYYYY is the nation so obsessed with this kinky mess? Trying to decide whether to add it to my summer reading list and find out…

It has been 10 days since my last post to this blog. I would like to say that I have been away on vacation in Aruba, or catching up on the latest novel craze (which, BTW, I hear is delightful filth), or busy celebrating something fabulous. Or hell, I’d even rather say that I’ve been swamped with school work and just couldn’t fit blog time into my schedule. But none of the above is true. I’ve just been practicing the golden rule… “If you can’t say something nice, shut the hell up.” Or something like that, right? Having titled this blog DRAMAFREEmama, I try to keep my writing positive and uplifting to others and fun. And last week, for me, was everything but. And like some people lose the will to eat when they’re down… I eat their share and lose my will to produce good writing. Plus, who wants to hear me whine about being anxious or depressed or even just BLAH? Nobuddy. So I went on a brief hiatus to shake off the ickies.

So, now I’m back. <WooHoo!> And whilst I don’t have anything earth-shaking to say, I would like to offer this OH moment. OH=Open & Honest.

I don’t always get it right.  Being a teacher + mommy + wife + daughter + pet owner + housekeeper + life liver is extremely demanding. How shall I prioritize these roles? It’s overwhelming (read IMPOSSIBLE) to try to be everything to everybody and always get it right.  In fact, I am certain I fail royally on a regular basis. Sometimes I get angry. Sometimes I lose my cool. I cry. I yell. I say things I later regret. I cry some more. I carry guilt. I feel like like a failure. A bad mom. A lousy wife. And that somehow, everyone else seems to be doing a better job than I am at pretty much everything.  And I am willing to bet I’m not the only one who feels this way, at least sometimes.

So today I made myself this promise… I will let it go. Let my mistakes go. Let my guilt go. Let my presumed failures go. We are all fighting this battle one day at a time, and nobody has it all figured out. Some are just better at looking like they do. After confiding how I was feeling to a friend today, she told me that she would have had “NO IDEA,” had I not spilled. Apparently I’m a decent faker too. <Bonus!> But ladies, we need to stop the self-loathing every time we fuck up. Fucking up is part of the journey. It’s part of marriage, motherhood, professionalism, LIFE.  I feel confident (today) that I am doing the best job that I can at all of my jobs. And damnit, that’s just going to have to be good enough. So raise your glass to not being so hard on ourselves!

CHEERS from the dramafreemama!

En loco parentis…

A long, long time ago, some really smart people came up with a Latin term that reads “En loco parentis.” It means, in place of the parents. Derived from English Common Law, it took root in Colonial American Schools as a means of explaining the responsibility of teachers. Translated: during school hours, I’m your mom (the proverbial “boss of you”), so I can tell you what to do. For your own good of course. But, with great power comes great responsibility. Thus, if a student does something foolish on my watch and gets hurt or worse, I’m a negligent substitute parent. It’s kind of a way to keep us all in check, I guess you could say. The phrase also has roots in legal guardianship, but for my purpose, “En loco parentis” refers to my duty, as a teacher, to protect and guide a child, in place of their parents, from 7:28-2:44. It does not, however, mean I am allowed to whack them when they deserve it. At least not in 2012. Bummer.

Several instances this week got me thinking about the teacher/mom blur. To name a few:

“Mrs. Perry, do you have a band-aid?”    (Big kids get boo boos too.)

“Mrs. Perry, can I leave my bag in here till after school?”    (Teacher-moms are the keeper of many a smelly sports duffel.)

“Mrs. Perry, my braids are too tight and I have a headache, can you help me?”    (For those of you picturing a six-year old girl named Jenny with pig-tails, please realize this was a 6 foot 2 linebacker with tight corn-rows he couldn’t reach.)

I even makeshift hemmed a pair of Jr ROTC pants during my planning period on Tuesday.

So clearly there is no shortage of mommy moments in my workplace… And lately I have been pondering all of the ways that being a teacher and being a mom are a lot alike, and yet worlds apart. In my mind this is, of course, a Venn Diagram… but I suppose I’ll blog it as a list, as is the way of the dramafreemama.

It took years of prep-work to get this fabulous… now take notes.

Here’s what teachers do En loco parentis…

Clean up messes they didn’t make.

Give up their own lunch for a kid without one, on any given day.

Pat someone on the back when they need it… give them a good ass chewing for the same reason.

Work extra hours without compensation.

Give incentives and rewards for good behavior. (Uh, you’d be thoroughly surprised at what a 17 year old will do for a smiley sticker. No shit.)

Serve as a wardrobe advisor… ie. Ahem, please pull your pants up, young man! Or– Missy, you put on a sweater!

Keep an open door and an open shoulder.

Sounds a lot like a momma huh? I thought the same thing…

 

I am not this mom...

Reblogged from dramafreemama:

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Remember back in high school when the cafeteria was separated by type? As in… the cheerleader type, the nerdy type, the athletic type, the burnout type, the trenchcoat type. And each type or “clique,” or group, or whatever you want to call it, was unmistakable not only by outward appearance, but also the ultimate hierarchical tool –location of their lunch table.

Read more… 601 more words

As the weather gets warmer and we are logging more park hours, I am reflecting back on this post... thinking it may be time for a Part II of "I AM NOT THIS MOM-- Identifying MORE Creatures of the Momosphere." Your thoughts?

Spaghetti squash is the new AWESOME

If you’ve been reading my blog for long, you may remember when Pinterest™ first got ahold of me. As if Facebook™ stalking wasn’t enough of a time-suck for me, I now had a new way to catalog and categorize my life and all the cool things I’m interested in! I was learning so many ways to clean, organize, cook, parent, and basically rule the world via pinboard! YES!  It was a beautiful time. It was also around the time I became enamored with the “crescent roll.” Its flaky goodness, its affordability and easy to pop can, and best of all, it’s many uses.  You see, the versatility of a food (or any item, really) is what attracts me to it and impresses me most. I am of the school of thought that the more things one can accomplish with any single object, the more value that object holds. Behold my new favorite versatile miracle-meal-maker– the spaghetti squash. Not to be mistrusted or underestimated, it is neither spaghetti, nor squash. Stay with me…

Like so...

Spaghetti squash is a big, yellow, gourdish creature, resembling somewhere between a regular yellow squash and a pumpkin. But after you cook it, whether you choose to boil, broil, bake, or grill (Yes, you can take your pick!), you then shred it with a fork and it becomes a noodle-like pile of versatile vegetable goodness! It’s mild flavor fools kids (and immature husbands) into thinking they are eating the starchy garbage they love– but it’s SQUASH. There are countless ways to prepare it, season it, serve it, even hide it! It can be a sweet dish, or a savory one. It can be a stand-alone side dish, or an ingredient  or layer mixed in. I am not kidding when I say that this vegetable could rule the world… if it had thumbs and were so inclined. The spaghetti squash is not paying me to promote it… and I have more.

My favorite way (ie. the simplest way) to cook the spaghetti squash is to split the sucker open length-ways raw, scoop the seeds out (think jack-o-lantern),  paint the insides with olive oil and place them open face down on a baking sheet, and bake at 375 for 40 minutes. Once they cool, you can scoop out the stringy stuff and have your way with it. One side of it yields enough for my family to have as a side dish at dinner, so I like to set the other half aside to use for the next few days for various dishes. You can either go ahead and scoop it out now and store it in a plastic container, or just cover with foil (like a split melon) and scoop out what you need as you go. Here are 10 ideas I have come up with for enjoying the cooked spaghetti squash–Some I have tried, and some I have only speculated.

1. Simply saute with your favorite seasonings. I did a butter, Parmesan, and parsley medley, much like you would do with noodles, and it was a definite crowd-pleaser. I followed this recipe from Pinterest.™ (Go figure!)  But I say anything goes– use what you like!  Garlic and onion? Rosemary and  goat cheese? Mushroom and spinach? Blackbeans and cajun seasoning?

Do you see squash?
I see no squash.

2. Use as a topping on your homemade pizza. I seasoned the shreds with garlic powder and spread a thin layer on top of the sauce layer, so it hid nicely under the cheese. If your kids balk at trying new things, they’ll never know it’s there. It was delicious!

3. Treat it like yams. Sprinkle with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a few dabs of butter or margarine and bake. Delicious and sweet, but still a veggie!

4. Top with pasta sauce of your choice. As the name suggests… substitute for spaghetti noodles under marinara, meat sauce, alfredo, pesto…

5. Stretch out that half pint of leftover lo mein. Throw your leftover takeout in a large pan and mix in spaghetti squash. Not only have you somewhat “healthified” your junk, you’ve turned it into enough food to suffice as supper for two! I actually did this with leftover Pancit, and it was spectacular.

6. Replace your lettuce on tacos. <Of course you would use it cold for this.> I have not tried this yet, but I plan to. Spaghetti squash is far more nutrient-rich than shredded iceberg lettuce. Or you could also chop it and season it with taco seasoning and replace your rice.

7. Replace the rice in your favorite casserole. This is another anything goes strategy. Whatever go-to casserole you throw together with a rice and condensed soup base can be done with spaghetti squash instead of rice. With only 4 net carbs per half-cup serving, it’s perfect for carb counters!

8. Put in an omelet for breakfast. I did this the other morning with some tomato, red onion, and dill. You can use the squash shreds in place of cheese to cut calories or as a wonderful complement to cheese, my obvious choice. As long as it’s not store brand slices… need we go there again?

9. As a “bed” for baked chicken or fish. Instead of pasta, rice, orzo, etc… a bed of lemon-pepper seasoned spaghetti squash is delish under a chicken breast or tilapia filet. This is one of my favorites because it adds sophistication for dinner guests, but it was no harder or more expensive than using one of the more typical staples.

10. As a “pasta” salad style side dish. Instead of cooked noodles, you could toss your favorite typical pasta salad ingredients with spaghetti squash and italian dressing and serve cold. SO EASY! My favorite medley has chunky cucumbers, grape tomatoes (halved), black olives (halved), and crumbled feta.

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NOTES: The spaghetti squash I purchased last week was a large one, and it cost me $5.01. I was, at first, dismayed at the five dollar price tag on one vegetable. However, one half of that squash was the primary side dish for supper that night for three adults and two children. And the other half stretched out over the next four days of experimental snacks and ingredients. Well worth five bucks, in my opinion!

PLEASE COMMENT ON THE POST any recipes or ideas you have tried with spaghetti squash!

Now tell me there’s no God…

I was taught at a young age never to discuss politics, religion, or sex in mixed company. I try to adhere to this guideline, for at least two out of the three topics. (::wink wink::) And it seems to make sense for me for a couple of reasons. One, no one’s opinion on any of the above has ever changed mine. And two, I am not seeking to change anyone else’s. I think everyone having the right to their own opinions and practices is part of what makes this country so amazing. But once in a while, you see or experience something that makes it hard for even the most adamant Atheist to deny the existence of a higher power, both directing and protecting us. Among these experiences are an infant wrapping its tiny hand around your finger, a breath-taking sunset, a wall of honeysuckle growing volunteer, and what happened in my house today.

Zachary, my near two-year-old, came plopping down the hall in his typical heavy footed fashion. “Mommy, mommy, yoook!” <Look.> He is always excitedly sharing his new discoveries, so him telling me to “yook” is a daily, perhaps hourly, occurrence. I was not alarmed. When he rounded the corner to the kitchen and displayed to me is magenta hands, I was puzzled at first.

Then I recognized the hue… the very one I painted on my toenails this morning. And I remembered having left the bottle of polish on my bathroom counter, stupidly within toddler reach. Rookie mistake.

It’s hard for me to recall what exactly came to my mind first (besides swear words), because so many disastrous possibilities lay before me. I know I wasn’t frozen long though, because Zac was eager to take me back down the hall to show me what he’d “found.” But for that quick moment, I pictured blotches of pink down my hallway walls, a pink trail to follow on my hardwood floors, ruined carpet, a pink cat? When I arrived at the scene, what I saw shocked me more than if he had finger-painted my quilt. He had opened the bottle, put the cap/brush end into the sink, and painted his hands in the process. The bottle still sat upright on the counter. Not a drop or a drizzle on anything, except of course a little in the porcelain sink, which I could easily wipe up with a remover pad. The panic was quickly replaced with relief. He hadn’t touched a single thing with his pink paws… just came to show me. Now– tell me there’s no God.