The fam and I went to Five Guys earlier this week and as Stinkerbell was ordering her burger, the cashier asked her what she would like on it. She replied "Ketchup, mustard, tomatoes, and a bit of lettuce, please."
"A bit of lettuce?" I jokingly asked her. "How much is that?"
And because we're a teasing family, Peanut Head piped in, "You know, they really don't have adjectives on the cash register keys."
We continued our banter as I asked Peanut Head to get my soda and to "please put a bit of ice in it," and "Stinkerbell, would you like a bit of ketchup for your fries?"
Quickly she grew tired of our joking and she spat "What?! I don't really see what the big deal is? So I said 'a bit' So what?"
"It's just funny, that's all." I answered. "It's like when Zoe was in Kinderarten and she prefaced everything she said with 'Actually, . . ' It's just not the kind of thing that you normally hear kids say.
She rolled her eyes and continued eating her burger, fed up with the whacked out parents that she has to deal with every day. Poor girl.
Honestly, I feel her pain. I couldn't live with myself if I wasn't already me. Case in point, my dad is just like me and he annoys the crap out of me. Can't stand to be around him for more than a day. Love him. Can't live with him. Not even in the same state. He can't be around people without teasing them. That's how you know he likes you, he teases you.
When I was a kid he would come into my room in the mornings with all manner of noise makers to wake me up. After I shot out of bed he would screech "GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!"
Hate, hated that.
What's worse is that he still does it when I visit him. Every seven years or so, that's how often I can deal with my creator.
Anyway, this post was not intended to be about my dad and my resultant baggage, so change of subject. Sort of.
I've been collecting a few pictures to write a post about food issues. Not anything really helpful to anyone, mind you. Just meaningless reflection on my part.
This particular picture is an example of how Zoe eats personal pizzas when we go out to eat. She's been doing it for years. She pulls off a slice, eats everything but the crust, and puts the remaining crust neatly back into place. I have loads of pictures like this.
She's my neat eater, and she's serious about her food. Like her Mama.
When I was a kid I loved tomatoes, and I would eat cherry tomatoes right out of my grandparents' garden until I was about to burst. I loved tomatoes and I think I was encouraged by my grandparents' horror at seeing me eat so many tomatoes. I clearly remember them exclaiming to my mother, "That can't be good for her! How can she eat so much? You should stop her." I would giggle to myself and eat even more, relishing the feeling of tiny tomatoes bursting in my mouth, enjoying the look of horror on my grandparents' faces. I'm sure my mom was very proud.
This picture reminds me of the contrast in the way my kids eat. As a baby Stinkerbell ate with gusto, but she has never been a neat eater. Never ever. She leaves a trail that screams "Annika was here!" In this picture you can't see the trail of french fries that she has scattered around her because I cropped them out, but they're there. Zoe Bug, on the other hand, ate her first birthday cake with a fork, ever so delicately and tidy. Sure, I put the bib on her in this picture, but she let me. She's always been a neat eater. I just wish it translated to her bedroom. Gads, she's a hoarder when it comes to material objects.
Changing the subject again, but still on the larger umbrella topic of food, I've been making smoothies for breakfast lately and I love, love them.
The Stink likes them too, so I've been sending her off to the bus stop with a smoothie in a travel cup, tucked into a baggie so it doesn't get all over her backpack when she's done with it, content in the knowledge that she's getting a nutritious breakfast that doesn't involve french toast sticks and Fruit Loops--what she gets at school when she doesn't eat at home.
What the Stink doesn't know, and you mustn't tell her, is that I sneak a handful of spinach into the concoction when she's off to feed the chickens. I have to be quick and hide the evidence before she gets back inside, as well as add enough fruit to the mix to bring the color back to a more palatable shade before she catches a glimpse. Wicked witch green is not palatable. The first time I did it she raised her eyebrows and asked me "What did you put in here? It's funny."
"The same thing as always, honey, except no cherries this time. Like you asked." I reply, smiling sweetly, that alone enough to put her on her guard. She walks off, suspicious, but sipping cautiously.
So the smoothies are going well, and I've dang near killed my blender in the process. We've had this same blender for at least fifteen years now. It's an Oster 12-speed, 400 watt deal, and it really does a great job at making smoothies. The pulse switch has been acting moody lately and I know my days with it are numbered. I'm hoping it hangs in there a few more weeks because I'm not ready to buy another blender yet.
I've been researching smoothie blenders and I think I'm leaning towards the Ninja, although not the one with a meellion accessories. Apparently the Vitamix is the Rolls Royce of blenders, but it is so not in my budget.
So, all you smoothie makers out there, what kind of blender do you recommend? And, do you have a favorite smoothie recipe that you'd like to share?
I'm a newbie here, and I've just been tossing things in, trying to keep the color a reasonably pleasant hue. Like I'd never want to add the cat. That would probably produce an unpalatable color.
