A Mother's Balancing Act

Expanding the Menu

According to Big Strong Man, I have a bad habit. He refers to it as "Expanding the Menu".

It goes something like this. We plan a party. I make up a detailed menu of all of the items that I am planning to serve, and then, at the very last minute…the 11^th hour, if you will…I Expand the Menu.

I panic and worry that we won't have enough food after all (we always have enough food for a cast of Marines…), and I start whipping up an extra batch of guacamole…or artichoke dip…or gooey butter cake. You get the idea.

Well, weekend before last, I did something similar…kinda.

We were preparing to leave for Chicago to take our daughter to college – in 30 minutes.

And at that very moment, I decided to make her some of my famous Pesto Pasta…'cuz' that's her favorite. And I hadn't made any in a while. So, I decided I needed to do it – right then. (Hey, when you have veritable basil bushes like I do, you tend to want to take advantage of them, ya' know?)

Um, yeah…you might say that I'm a little verklempt about sending this child off to school.

So, I put the pot of water on the stove to boil…throw in the kosher salt and some olive oil and put a lid on, so it will boil faster.

Then, I run back to our room to finish getting ready.

I throw two bags of whole wheat spaghetti in with 20 minutes to go before our ETD (Estimated Time of Departure).

Those of you who have traveled with me before know that I tend to run a bit late…ahem.

Big Strong Man sees the steaming pot of water, and steam proceeds to start pouring out of his ears. He is definitely pleased…He quietly reminds me that we are leaving in now…17 minutes.

"I know," I chirp.

A few minutes later, when he sees me preparing to mix up my creamy pesto, I think his head might just spin right off of his neck. "We're leaving in three minutes."

"I know," I stammer. "I'm just trying to do something nice for our daughter. It's her favorite food on the planet." This to justify my completely inane activity at the last minute… ;-)

So, our daughter comes out to the kitchen, pours herself a "go mug" of coffee and sits down at the table. "What smells soooo good?"

"Pesto pasta," I reply, smiling complacently.

"YUMMMM! Oh, that sounds soooo good! Could I have some right now? Please???"

"For breakfast?? At 9 AM?"

"Yes??" she pleads.

"Sure. I don't care," I smile, absolutely thrilled with the early result of my domestic toils. I dish her out a big scoop of the creamy, green, garlicky pasta into a cereal bowl.

"That's plenty!"

She sits down at the breakfast table and starts twisting the strands of noodles around her fork. "Mmm, it's perfect."

"Doesn't need anything?"

"Nope! Why did you make this today?"

"For you and your roommate."

A look of surprise, then, perhaps embarrassment – but finally, pleasure crosses her face.

"We'll put it in a big gallon baggie, and it can go right into your dorm mini fridge. A little touch of home that you can warm up in the micro your first week of school."

Smiles all around.

9:08 AM…ready to walk out the door.

Not bad. Not bad at all…

Balance Babe (Molly Wendland)

The Ants Come Marching Three by Three

It was an ominous beginning to a bittersweet day.

I awoke earlier than necessary, after grabbing only about 4 hours sleep…ugh. Oh, well, more time to get things done before we set off to take our eldest daughter to her first year of college out of state.

I threw the last few items in my bulging suitcase (ever the overpacker…) and wheeled the bag quietly out to the kitchen. Tears streaming down my face, I bent to give my Big Strong Man a kiss good morning as he clicked away at his game on the computer. Hugging me, he brushed my hair out of my face and reassured me that she was going to be just fine. Selfishly, I thought to myself, "I know she will be. It's us I'm worried about." I measured out our morning coffee. One scoop, two, three, four, five..and a half. That should do it.

My baby is leaving for college, I thought. What will I do without her? It will be so quiet with only three of us in the house. It just won't be the same…

And then, it happened. Just the thing to snap me out of my self-indulgent misery:

ANTS.

Ants everywhere. Everywhere I looked.

On the counter. On the dishwasher. In the sink. On the Cabinets. Under the can opener, the food processer, the coffee maker…OMG…

In the pantry.

OMG!

The ants had invaded.

Overnight.

Well, not exactly overnight.

We had been battling them off and on for a couple of weeks but not to this extent. Not like this. Not in my freaking pantry.

Not the day I'm leaving to take our daughter to college.

Not the day my OCD niece is coming to stay with our younger daughter for four days – only to find the house infested with ANTS.

Excellent.

So we sprayed the heck out of the kitchen with Hawaiian Floral scented Raid Ant Killer…who's ever heard of that scent? Big Strong Man bought it! Crazy!

And then we proceeded to kill dozens of ants. Dozens. My skin is still crawling. Yuck.

Well, at least I get to stay in a comfy, cozy hotel tonight!

And it took my mind off sending my baby away to college…for a while anyway.

Balanced Babe (Molly Wendland)

Fly the Friendly Skies - For Less!

Wow, did you see this deal offered by Jet Blue this week? They don't even fly in to my city, but if I had a little more time on my hands (can you say empty nester/retiree?), I would snap this up in a heartbeat!

$700 gets you unlimited flying for a month from 9/7 to 10/6.

$500 gets you unlimited flight minus Fridays and Sundays for the same time period.

As long as the flight attendant doesn't unlatch the emergency slide, you'll be in excellent shape... :-)

Unbelievable!

Happy Con-Trails!

Balanced Babe (Molly Wendland)

Arizona - Man - It's a Whole Different Universe!

I really should have posted this before the election. It would have been more timely, what with McCain being from Arizona and all. But in typical procrastinator's fashion, here I am...late. Again.

So, a few weeks ago, Big Strong Man and I traveled to McCain's home state for my cousin's wedding. The details are now not quite as fresh in my mind, so a few observations about the state in general will have to suffice:

• Speed limits (especially those posted on any highway) are merely a suggestion. Drive any speed you choose at any time. Double that sentiment for construction zones regardless of all of those temporary reproving signs, warning you that fines are double in construction zones. (If there really isn't any fining going on to begin with, then doubling that isn't going to have much of a consequence, now is it?!). I nearly got blown off the road when I slowed to the posted construction zone speed...silly outsider!

• Plan to keep your broom and dustpan handy at all times for sweeping up tarantulas at a moment's notice. Yes, I speak in utter deadpan sincerity on this topic.

• Lizards, lizards and more lizards.

• I so wish that I had photographed the gentleman, in full business attire mind you, and shades propped up on his head as if he'd just raced over from the office. There he was hammering away on an electric organ (complete with steel drum and string effects) when we happened into a convenience store on Interstate 10, driving from Phoenix to Tucson. What was the song, you ask? Rocky Top. (no, the link is not to the guy singing...it's just in case you don't know the song...) There was a sign on top of the organ that read, "The Crooners". That's all, nothing more. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes and ears, I'm not sure I would have believed the story. I walked through the store, picking up my bottled water and some candy, suppressing my guffaw, listening to tune after tune. Live music at the convenience store. Who'da thunk it? Shoot fahr! When we got to the counter, sensing my impending laughter, the cashier pleaded, "Don't even ask me. I have no idea!" By then, we'd been regaled with Rocky Top, On the Road Again and several others which are now escaping me. BSM and I figured out that he was one member of a band from the nearby Casino. We were driving through an Indian reservation. Apparently, he was (literally?) trying to drum up some business. Stop by next time you're ambling through AZ.

• Keep a watchful eye on your small children if you are visiting the foothills of the mountains. Again, not kidding. Mountain lions. Eating children. In Arizona.

• Did I mention rattlesnakes? In gardens? (See photo above from my cousin's backyard.)

• You know how you see the signs for lost dogs all over the place? Not so in Arizona. In Tucson, it was "LOST GOAT: Reward". I nearly wrecked the rental over that one! At a major intersection, no less.

OK, so I've told you all the funny stuff. But I haven't yet mentioned the amazing sunsets, my hilarious and fun family (why do we wait so long between visits???), my gorgeous relatives' homes, the fabulous food we ate, the wonderful resort where we stayed (Westward Look) (my cousin's new wife secured a great rate!), the fact that it was cold at home but 90 degrees in AZ, and that the cost of living appeared to be similar to ours in the Midwest. Plus, my family even told me they loved the book! You gotta' love that White Trash Mom movement. It's everywhere! Even in Arizona!

Having said all of that, are we moving? Not on your sweet scorpion life!

Cheers,

Balanced Babe (Molly Wendland)

Mama Mary's Pizza Recipe Contest(s)!

Since I just posted about Mama Mary's Pizza Crusts, I thought I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't do quick follow-up post to let you in on another little secret.

You could be a winner! 

That is, if you create an original recipe, send it in, and they pick you! The prizes are great! Who doesn't like to travel? Who doesn't love a free vacation?

This could be a fun project to do with kids - let them create their own recipes. This contest is somewhat unusual in that there is no age limit, and you can also enter more than once.

Have fun with this. Get creative! Dessert pizzas. Veggie pizzas. Seafood pizzas. The sky's the limit, people. Have at it! And I want to hear about it when you win!

And if you're not into making up your own stuff, there's always the recipes they've included on their site to entice you to at least try something new and different...come on, step out of your comfort zone!

BlogHer, Here We Come!

Ready or not, here we come! Mostly, it's "not" ready from this end, but I've decided to take the "who cares" approach to the fast=approaching BlogHer conference (T-17 if you count pre-parties...) and move forward. I've poured myself my favorite homemade cocktail, settled in to type you one last blog entry before departing my humble abode at the frightening hour of 6 am, and that's all she wrote...rather literally.

I have to say that normally, I can't enjoy a trip until my car has left the driveway. I always figure that by then, whatever I've forgotten is water under the bridge. Somehow, this time is different. I'm already enjoying it! I don't know if it's because we're arriving so early (my writing partner, Michelle Lamar, from White Trash Mom and I, that is) and I know we'll have plenty of time to shop in Union Hill or what. The shopping part thrills me for sure. There's an H&M within walking distance of the Westin. I know that. Yahoo!

Ah, well. Any way around it. I'm loose. Maybe it's first-timer's forgiveness. You can't be expected to remember something you didn't know you were supposed to bring, right? Especially if you didn't read any of the pre-conference materials that they emailed you all of 1 1/2 days in advance. I asked my Big Strong Man (BSM) to print off the files for me to save time, and they were over 50 pages. Wow! Just a little light reading for the plane...Yowza!

Hope to see many of you there. If anyone is reading this. This is a new blog after all!

Cheers to all, and to all a good Thursday! And remember, if you can't come this year, there's always next year...

Balanced Babe

Packing Woes

So, we all managed to get packed. Some faster than others. Of course, my excuse was that I had to work all day the day before we left. Now, I don’t know if your Big Strong Man is like mine, but BSM can come home from a full day’s work (probably having worked late just to get out of town, etc., just like me…), pop open a beer, lie down on the couch and watch some baseball, eat dinner, fill the car with gas and get it washed, do some last minute errands, come back home and tinker with some tool out in the garage, have another beer, watch a little more baseball…and then…

The thought occurs to him that he’d better do a little packing. By this time he’s already gotten his hu-mon-ga-zoid duffle out of the basement, so it’s ready to be stuffed with crap. He’s also already brought up my suitcase and a hanging bag for both of us to use (yes, he really is a love like that…and yes, I do know that I’m damn lucky).

It is at this time that my Big Strong Man actually packs his bags in less than 15 minutes. I kid you not. That…to me…is a feat of genious. Right on par with Girl 1’s (scroll about halfway down this previous post) packing genious. To pack in 15 minutes. And overpack, no less. That’s a marvel in my book.

Me? Well, being one of the worst (perhaps, the worst?) packers I know, it takes me 4+ hours to pack for a 4-5 day trip.

How outrageous is that? Total lameness is what that is. And next week? When I have to do it all over again (and fly, no less…) for BlogHer? Just kill me now.

Balanced Babe 

Ahhh...Vacation

Ahhh…vacation. Palm trees. Mojitos with just the right mix of simple syrup and muddled mint leaf. Waves gently lapping onto the white sandy beach. The occasional scantily clad cabana boy giving me a knowing wink as he jogs by.

Wait a minute. That’s not my vacation. That’s the one in my trashy summer novel…if you can even call it a novel. Let’s back up and start over with preparations for my vacation. Leave work an hour later than planned due to project taking longer than anticipated. Stop by drug store to pick up much needed scrip prior to our 4:30 AM departure (or dawn launch, as we like to call it). Arrive home to discover that not only has Girl 2 not finished packing, but she’s not even close. Excellent.

Pour first glass of wine. Stand in front of closet and determine that all clothes are either:

·        Too dated

·        Too matronly

·        Too career-oriented

·        Too mom-like

·        Too dorky altogether

·        Too too…

Get another glass of wine.

Check on Girl 2’s progress. She has laid out her clothes, but there is no sign of a suitcase, any toiletries. Am told that she has her “to do” bag packed.

Well, thank the Lord Jesus that she will have something to do. Never mind that she will stink, and her clothes will be strewn all over our van…

Check in on Girl 1 for 1st time since arriving home. Suitcase is still open, but all appears to be in order. Wish I had taken photo opp to share with my adoring fans. Your jaws would have hit the floor. Big Strong Man and I have no earthly idea where she received her packing prowess, other than the fact that he is very organized, in general. Aside from that, he and I both tend to overpack. I organize my stuff reasonably well in the suitcase, but there is far too much of it. He throws all of his into the largest duffle ever manufactured by Land's End. It’s a wonder there’s any room left for the rest of our luggage. The thing has no support, so all of his clothes arrive in a rumpled mess. Nice.

Girl 1’s bag...Picture this. Picture the Gap packing a suitcase, so that all items can be seen from any angle from anywhere in the space-time continuum. It’s a feat of modern wonders, really. Add that she’s relatively petite in frame (though 5’7”), and her clothes just don’t seem to take up much room. She manages to fit a lot of clothes into a medium sized bag. Of course, she’s 16, so it’s mostly t’s and cami’s (what else is there at that age?), but again, amazing feat, really. Every single item that she packs can be seen from the top of the suitcase when it’s open. Unbelievable.

Back to my closet. Laboriously, I plan out several (OK, like 10) outfits for our 4 night trip to Chicago. Hey, the weather could do anything. I really pare down my shoe choices and get it down to seven. Did I mention that I am a terrible packer? And yes, I was quite proud of my “paring down”.

Check in on Girl 2. Suitcase is laying (empty) on floor. No sign of Girl 2. I leave her room in search of her. Find Girl 2 watching TV in family room.

Resist urge to grab Girl 2 by neck and squeeze.

With even tone of voice, ask Girl 2 what, for the love of Mike, she is doing.

Girl 2: Watching TV.

Balanced Babe: This seems apparent.

Girl 2: (blank stare)

I feel compelled to offer a brief aside here and just say that this child is "off the charts" intelligent. Like scary smart. Like it truly pains me sometimes to think what her life is going to be like carrying the burden of being this smart. OK, back to our little story hour...

Balanced Babe: Why are you watching television when you haven’t finished packing?

Girl 2: Well, I got my suitcase upstairs, so I thought I could take a little break.

Apparently, hauling an empty suitcase up 13 carpeted steps required a monumental effort. Apparently, this couldn’t have been done in the eight hours while I was gone at work. Apparently, I am a royal freaking biatch, and vacation is going to be a big fat batch of F-U-N!

I think I’ll have another glass of wine.

Balanced Babe