Okay, so i was tagged...

1. When I count my blessings, I always start with my faith.
2. I have one brunette, one blonde, and one red-headed child.
3. I had myself a big fat Greek wedding.
4. One of the first things I loved, and still love, about my hubby is the way he walks into a room.
5. When I was a little girl, I aspired to be a Solid Gold Dancer.
6. I hate beans.
7. I have the heart of a race car driver, trapped in a minivan.
8. I hate to fly, thanks to one white-knuckle experience with turbulance.
9. My grandparents are the coolest people I know.
10. I love to bake, but I'm not very good at it.
11. One of the first things I taught my children was how to open a public restroom door with their elbows.
12. I'm psychic, sort of.
13. (I'm superstitious, so I'm going to skip this one)
14. I'd rather hike in the mountains than lie on the beach.
15. I secretly love Britney Spears's song 'Womanizer'
16. I had an imaginary sister named Stephanie up until the second grade.
17. I'm not as sweet as I used to be.
18. Every day I balance the fine line of letting my kids be themselves while not letting them get away with everything.
19. When my children were 4, 18 months and 18 months, I started a business. Because I'm crazy!
20. I sold knives for a very brief time in college.
21. I believe the American food industry is out to kill us all.
22. I gave up caffeine for lent 10 years ago and haven't had it since.
23. I love my church.
24. I treasure my girlfriends.
25. I hope y'all have a good day!

The Comeback

Yes, sirreee, I'm alive!! Thanks for all your well wishes, they were bright spots on this dark and lonely highway called "wisdom teeth removal." I went to the doctor yet again this morning, to fix my third dry socket, but I'm not going to talk about it any more, because I'm as sick of hearing about it as anybody else.

In my lucid moments, I've been keeping busy by organizing my office, reading this book, working on SuperNoots stuff, fighting the CPSIA, keeping KFC afloat by purchasing 7,498 orders of mashed potatoes, oh, and trying to resurrect some semblance of order in my household.

Yes, the members of this family have been spoiled by Mama's inability to command a room like she used to. I'm talking about backtalk, excessive whining, and complete memory loss of every rule and responsibility. And that's just TDH.

But since coming off pain meds, uncrossing my eyes and splashing cold water on my face a few times throughout the day, Mama is making her comeback.

My children once again look at their mother with a healthy amount of fear, and I'm okay with that.

Still Here

hullo.

still alive.

but minus four severely impacted wisdom teeth.

i have a little mouth.

ouch.

Ibuprofen is Calling

Okay, so apparently when you have tooth pain, you should go to the dentist.

Not wait 3 months until one morning you can't chew.

I can see you out there, shaking your little heads and wagging your fingers at me. So, let me just say, I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.

My four impacted wisdom teeth have been trying to tell me for quite some time now that they are tired of being in my mouth. They want out, and really who can blame them? So surgery it is.

Now those of you who know me will be shocked by what I am about to share with you. If you are just joining us, a short recap... I eat healthy.

My diet yesterday? Applesauce, Panera chicken noodle soup, 1/2 a kashi bar (swallowed whole), and for dinner, Kentucky Fried Chicken mashed potatoes. By the time TDH brought them home for me, I was in tears from being so hungry, and I don't think I've ever appreciated anything more in my life.

I'll keep you updated.

I'm off to pack up lots of SuperNoots. But first, Ibuprofen.

The Lassie Experience

From time to time, for absolutely no reason in particular, I decide I no longer want to be a member of my generation, and I bake biscuits from scratch, consider moving my whole family to Montana, and buy things like this...

I have no idea why, but the why is not the point of this post but possibly the basis for an in-depth psychological study, but I digress...

The following is our Lassie experience, and it takes place in our minivan. You'll be afraid for me and the children at first, but don't worry, it has a happy ending.

One morning on the way to school, we began watching an episode of Lassie in which she accidentally gets locked in the back of a delivery truck, and as a result ends up hopelessly lost, 600 miles away from home.

Now, it takes us 25 minutes to get to school, so by the time we had gotten there, this episode had ended as a "to be continued," with Lassie wet, hungry and sad, and Timmy heartbroken. Biscuit was extremely concerned, but I explained to him that Lassie would find her way home soon.

When I picked up the kids, Biscuit was anxious to start the show. The poor little guy had been on the edge of his seat all day over Lassie finding her way home. But by the time we made it to karate, the poor dog was still lost. Not only was she still lost, but she had been stalked by a bear, attacked by a horrible dog, and barely made it across a river. On the homefront, Timmy was completely beside himself, and the parents were telling each other it was hopeless.

When karate was over, the kids ran, not skipped as joyful, carefree children should do, but RAN to the DVD player. Shortly after we got in the car, the second episode of the day ended, and alas, Lassie was. still. lost. Not only was she lost, but Timmy's parents asked a friend to bring over a new puppy to ease the pain.

At this point, I'm starting to panic. I'm looking in the rear view mirror at my impressionable, sensitive five-year-old, and thinking he'll remember for the rest of his life that his mother was excited to show him the story of Lassie.

So, now I do the honorable thing, and start blaming the dog. Well, Biscuit, I can't believe Lassie's not home yet! She's supposed to be home by now, Timmy's really missing her, and she should be home. She needs to be home. Come on, Lassie, go home!

Ten minutes from our house, episode three begins. Timmy is desolate, refuses to love the new puppy, and returns it. Lassie is being helped by a kind man now, but the director doesn't hint to any happy endings. We are now in our neighborhood, so I pull over on a sidestreet to watch what I hope will be some form of closure.

A hopeless, tearful Timmy gathers Lassie's toys and heads out to the backyard to bury them. Biscuit is crying, I am crying, then...

A bark.

Let me just tell you, when Timmy looked up and saw Lassie coming over that hill, I cannot explain to you the immense joy that flowed throughout that minivan. Lassie and Timmy ran as fast as they could into each other's arms...

And I breathed an immeasureable sigh of relief. Then I silently cursed the 1950's for their cruelty and lack of cell phones.

Boys, Boys, Boys

Last night, it was just me and the boys.

And when I say me and the boys, I mean "me," a thirty-something-sweet-talkin-but-liberal-smart-mouthin-Southern-belle-blonde, and "boys," three sixty-something-professional-conservative-church-officiating-Greek-men."

And we all had a big ol' date.

Mind you one of those men was my super cool father-in-law, and the other two, his pals, I'd just as well hang out with than my own girlfriends. (ok, maybe not at the mall)

Our destination? The UT men's basketball game. Bruce Pearl. J.P. Prince. Tyler Smith. Wayne Chism. Cameron Tatum. More boys.

The game started at 9:00, which means I had to drink diet coke at 6:00 to make it to 12:00.

Usually at these events I sit when everyone else sits, clap at our good shots but not the other team's errors, and even raise my hand with a "Whoo!" at the appropriate pause in Rocky Top.

But that's assuming that the refs don't tick me off. And that's also assuming that we don't go into overtime. And it's ALSO assuming that I don't detect an attitude, or "tude" as it's called in the stands, from the other team.

So, yes, sweet readers, do not be shocked when I tell you that more than once during this game, I let the boobird fly. (For those of you confused by "boobird," it means screaming the word "boo" really loud, not giving the finger). And when the boobird starts flying, it is hard to bring him to roost. And when the boobird flies with 20,000+ other boobirds, you can forget about it.

I must give credit here to the man sitting to my left. His mother apparently brought him up a little better than the rest of us, because when the boobirds were at their worst, he chimed in with a "GAAH-LEE!," which if you're an Andy Griffith fan, you might recognize this from Gomer Pyle. I kid you not, this was his derogatory exclamation. I was highly amused.

Man, I had a blast. But we lost. And we were in a bad mood for a little while. But not for long.

So, where was TDH in the midst of all these boys?

He was home, giving baths and brushing teeth, reading a story, and planting kisses. Then he watched the game on TV, and enjoyed the fact that his wife was one of the crazy, boobird-slingin' Vol fans. That man, folks, is my favorite boy of all.

Crayons, Play-Doh, and Glue, Oh My! / Chicken Parmesan

Over the holidays, TDH and I carried out our brilliant plan to ignore the kids for two days while we got our home together, all in an effort to play, undistracted by clutter, for the other 363 days of the year. In other words, they had a two-day holiday at Nannie's house.


While TDH was busy with manly, heavy, garage and basement stuff, I was left to the painting and organizing. I was particularly proud of my efforts with the kids' art stuff, which normally is a three-basket-random-compilation of markers, construction paper, paint, Play-Doh, crayons, googly eyes, glue, chenille stems... you get the idea.


So, for Works for Me Wednesday, I thought I'd share my little self-proclaimed masterpiece, which has worked out great for almost a month now :)




I had this multi-drawer storage bin from my teacher days, and I organized the drawers like so...


Biscuit's workbooks
coloring books and plain paper
crayons
markers
paint/paintbrushes/plastic egg cartons (to hold paint)
random stuff, like googly eyes, glue, stencils, sponges, etc.
vinyl tablecloth, a prerequisite for all the above
*Play-Doh and clay bin sits on top


I like using the pull-out drawers because the kids can easily access only what they need. Also, the bin drawers are clear, and big enough to see what's going on (we used to keep crayons in wipes containers, and it was inevitable the whole thing would be dumped out to find a certain color).


Our kitchen table has never seen so much daylight since the birth of this little system. We even have room to eat these days, and tonight's dinner was a simple, delicious and healthy Chicken Parmesan. I was in a rush, so instead of the dijon mixture, I just used an egg wash, and it was still very flavorful.


An EggNog update... what you see in the following picture is a little kitten, half-asleep at the head of TDH's poker table. What you DON'T see are six grown men, sweet-talking this little kitten, snapping camera phone pics, and even sharing chips and cards. Needless to say, EggNog is sooooo golden.



Have a wonderful day, everyone!!!

Watching and Waiting / Oatmeal Cranberry Walnut Cookies

When your mom is the creator of SuperNoots, it comes with a price.

These are my kids.

These are my kids watching cookies bake.

Pitiful, isn't it?

I've been using this recipe for Oatmeal Cranberry Walnut cookies. Made partially with whole wheat flour, you won't feel too guilty about serving up these little gems. Enjoy!!