Tag Archives: Milk

A Handful of Spaghetti and Other Toddler Delicacies


Well, At Least She is Eating 

I wonder how much it would cost to get a drain installed in our kitchen floor?  I could probably justify a couple of benefits of having one but the primary reason is that more often than not, our little one needs to be hosed off before leaving the table after a meal.  She is learning to use utensils and it is great to hear her gurgle out an “I got it!” as she bites down on a fork load of food.  Let’s be honest though, she might as well be eating soup with a slotted spoon.  Last night we had spaghetti and we are perfectly content with robbing our second of the cute picture of spaghetti all over her head and face.  We let it happen with our first and there are just some things that you learn from aren’t worth repeating.

She was bibbed up and things started well as she managed to keep some cut up noodles on her spoon.  Flash to 15 seconds later and she is downing sauced up pasta by the handful.  The horror recedes from her mother’s eyes as we both realize that she is in fact eating and we know that utensils and cleanup are only battles but nourishment is the war.  We try to help a bit but accept the mess she is making.  That is, until our united family front begins to crack in weakness.  Our well-behaved 5-year-old makes the mistake of laughing at the little one and one little chuckle is all the encouragement our little ham needs before she attempts her best spaghetti juggling routine and delights in the laughter of her sibling.  Before long she has her parents laughing as well and she is relishing her role as the star of the show.  We manage to get a few more bites down her hatch between giggles and then flip a coin to see who gets bath duty and who gets to clean up the dinner massacre.

I got kitchen cleanup and asked myself what  CSI’s David Caruso would do?  After taking my sunglasses on and off a few times and squinting my eyes to survey the damage I went to work.  A roll of paper towels later we were finished and our freshly bathed kids still had a case of the giggles.  It may have been an epic mess but at least she was eating and even if you have to navigate nostril peas and hair dipped in yogurt, knowing your kid is fed is sweet.


My Greatest Fear Has Become the Rogue Sippy Cup 

Is there anything worse?  You find a sippy-cup under the couch or behind the toy-box and your prayer begins.  Dear Heavenly Father, please show me your grace and mercy and let this cup be full of water, and if it has to be full of milk, please give me a sign so I can throw it away when my wife isn’t looking so I don’t have to wash a white festering clump of rot out of this thing.  In Jesus name, amen.  You may start and end your prayer differently or address it to someone or something else but there is no mistake that in that moment we all hope for some kind of divine intervention.  You try to remember the last time you saw the cup in the active rotation and what was in it but it is no use, the princesses and the Dora’s and Minnie Mouse’s all run together you don’t have a clue.  You walk to the sink and play a version of parenthood roulette as you twist open the lid and pray for the best.

I used to think that finding a forgotten sippy-cup was the worst thing possible, until last week when our little one upped the ante of horror and disgust.  She walked into the living room holding a sippy-cup that neither of us had just given to her.  My wife and I exchanged glances and like a scene from a movie both lunged as the word NOOOOOOOOOOOO bellowed out of each of us.  Diving to save our little one, I batted the cup from her hand but it was too late.  The sip of septic gross combined with the scare of having her dad punch a cup millimeters away from her face may very well result in a hefty therapy bill one day.  Not sure if this one had juice of milk in it but the sour odor was already escaping the nozzle and the fruit flies swarming around it made the decision to throw it away an easy one.  Contrary to any opinions that may be forming, we are not unfit parents and go through lots of wipes and elbow grease  trying to maintain a suitable living environment for our little mess machines.  Cleaning a house with little kids in it is like tossing buckets of water over the side of a sinking boat.  No matter how fast you go or how much headway you make, you are still taking on water.  Most messes are all in a day’s work and just part of the gig but the rogue sippy-cup is totally weak.


Holy Grail of the Grocery Store


Finding it

I don’t know if you are like me but anytime I am at the grocery store there is part of me that is captain domestic; checking things off a list, coordinating meal plans, watching prices, etc. and a part of me that is a conquistador on a quest for the jewel of the dairy section. I scan the rows of milk jugs. Sept. 25? No way, they all say that. So I crouch down and notice a row near the bottom, Sept. 29? Better but still not the prize I am after. I reach in and maneuver gallons from the back row tipping them just enough to see the date and then I find it. Oct. 4! JACKPOT! Finding the freshest gallon of milk is a legitimate win and I have more then once gotten a knowing nod from an onlooker as they see me stretching to the back row of the milk shelf in hopes of making the find.

I may have had some bad milk as a kid but I take those dates pretty seriously. In general I am not touching that stuff within 2-3 days of the date stamped on the jug. You may scoff at that and argue that the date on the jug is when it should be sold by. You go right ahead and pour a glass of your milk as it sits on the cusp of spoiling but know that your courage is not admired by me. You are taking an unnecessary risk my friend, and the amount of chocolate or cereal you put in there still doesn’t make it fresh.


Every house on “House Hunters International” that isn’t in Costa Rica.

I may lose a couple of readers here (which would be roughly 40%) due to what some may see as a bloated entitled American point of view, but I can’t take seeing people so excited that there is a washing machine in their closet sized kitchen that is capable of washing 2-3 whole garments. If you aren’t familiar with the show, you obviously lead a much more exciting life than I do and I should probably be reading your blog about wild adventures and drunken shenanigans. The basic premise is that someone is buying a new house, they look at three and then pick one. Sounds simple and dumb but it is one of those things that sucks you in like a Jedi tractor beam. I guess the positive spin here is that I am grateful to live in what I believe to be the greatest country on earth. One in which it is customary for a home priced over half a million dollars to have ceilings you don’t have to duck under and a bathroom that comes with a shower or tub. I am thankful for those things but when I watch this show my first reaction is often….Seriously?!? It is hard to believe that people really do live in those tiny spaces that IKEA has in their showroom. American couples are always complaining about things like the stainless steal appliances not being shiny enough or the crystal chandelier being out-dated. On the international version they seem to deal with somewhat larger issues like, is it safe that the bed is suspended over the stove to save space? having your pillow smell like a pot of spaghetti sauce is pretty weak.

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