The Number one Reason Married People are Celibate.

Children. Yes. Kids. Your lovely offspring. Those darling sweet children. From the moment they are born until they leave the house sex and children don’t mix.

Here’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I had the worst pms this month. Sore boobs, itchiness/moodiness/scratchiness (the scratch is referring to a mood not a skin scratch) don’t talk to me unless you tell me I look like a supermodel. Eventually, my period ended and I felt like a normal human being again. A really horny one. I was feeling so smug. I’m married. I don’t have to be a (reasonably) celibate single person anymore. Sex shouldn’t be a problem. The months of dry spells are over. Yahoo. I get to seduce my husband. How much fun is that?

Add two 17 year old teenagers and a four year old child to the seduction equation and my plans to get it on with my hubby turned into a late night food fest with a wide awake child between us.

I woke up the other day ready to go. I told Aaron I couldn’t wait to see him tonight. I told him I would keep Noah up all day so he’d go to bed early and we could get it on. Yay! I had visions of lube and chandeliers (don’t ask) dancing in my head for most of the day.

Noah was up to his usual shenanigans but I was fine ‘cause I was getting some and nothing was going to ruin my day. As the day neared the end so did my patience with Noah’s mischievous, dumping flour all over the floor, drawing on my walls, busyness . . . The last straw was, as I was cooking dinner and distracted for a moment, Noah had gone into the bathroom (usually locked from the outside but in may haste to pee and get back to my hot skillet I neglected to lock the bathroom door behind me on my way out) and taken my nail polish remover. He dumped the bottle of nail polish remover on my couch. My beautiful purple couch. The smell of nail polish remover got me into the living room and there it was . . . nail polish remover spilled all over my couch.

Now, you could say. “hey, it’s only an ugly couch who cares . . . it’s only stuff” and be all zen about it. It’s only stuff right? The thing is, I was zen all day: the crayon all over my walls, (I can buy a mr clean eraser it’s ok) orange felt all over the carpet,(it’s a cheap carpet one day I will have a nice one) flour dumped on the floor, ( I own a vacuum cleaner no big deal) the tantrum in the paint store, (I’m in public I can’t scream just yet) grabbing at candies in the store, whining, screaming wanting and screaming again. (that’s o.k. I’m getting some tonight keep smiling) I was at the point where, when I saw large spill of nail polish remover on my couch, I lost it completely. The kind of critical mass upset that only happens once a year. Month. Week. you get the idea.

I calmed down eventually. I went to the basement to sit with Aaron and watch t.v. while Noah jumped around us. I sat and twitched and gnawed on my nails. I was still reverberating from my upset.

Eventually, at about 7:30, I got Noah to bed and my horny mood was gone completely. I was pissy, stressed and annoyed. It didn’t help that I couldn’t get the couch cover back on. I had washed the cover and I think it had shrunk and it had a large horrible, crusty, white mark on it that I was hoping to hide behind a cushion . For future reference nail polish remover does not wash out.

After a good battle with the couch cover, I lit some candles, poured myself a drink, and sat on the couch with my hubby in hopes of salvaging the mood from the morning. We were having a lovely time and getting ready to move into the bedroom when Luukas got home. He sat in the living room and started talking to us about his evening. We politely listened. Noah was sleeping. We had some time to listen to Luukas’ story. My patient, happy smile was on and I had lube and chandeliers dancing in my head again.

Then Luukas' friend Lenea arrived. She got to the door, knocked, and Luukas YELLED out “COME IN”! I cringed, and said “shhhh you’re going to wake Noah up”. Noah usually sleeps through anything but the house had been pretty quiet and the sudden noise . . . woke him up.

Noah came out of the bedroom screaming and crying . . . ”mommy!” . . . There was no putting him right back to bed. He was up and miserable. Usually a pat on the back and a snuggle and Noah goes right back to sleep but not this night. By the time I got Noah calmed down he was wide awake and UP. Aaron started to forage around in the fridge for food. Aaron, Noah and I got into bed, ate, watched a bit of t.v. and eventually we all fell asleep.

So, instead of great sex we ate and chomped while watching a rerun of Seinfeld. No sex. Just food. Noah was sitting between us happily eating with mama and daddy. See? Food instead of sex. This is why I’m not a size 6. It’s not for lack of exercise or not enough veggies. It’s emotional. Rather than great sex we eat and stuff our mouths so we don’t have to think about what we are missing out on. As a matter of fact I’m going to go in the kitchen right now and have another piece of toast with my coffee. With a nice thick slice of cheese. Yum.

(thank you Holly for the inspiration you are truly my muse)

Fig Galette

I was at my parents place last night and my dad took me on a tour of the garden. I had a bucket with me to pick all the fruit that had ripened.

 

They also have a huge fig tree so I picked a few. Figs. When’s the last time you’ve had a fresh fig?

Yum. They are the juiciest, richest, most delicious fruit. I usually see them artfully arranged on a cheese platter or sliced and served with a nice, tart yoghurt. I have a recipe in one of my Williams Sonoma cookbooks for a Fig Galette so I picked a bunch of figs and started baking.

Cut my figs up in quarters

Added the brown sugar and lemon zest

Put mixture onto my rolled out pastry dough

Brushed the dough with heavy cream and added chopped almonds

Bake for 40 minutes @ 400 degrees F

and

Voila Fig Galette!

Brought Fig Galette to parents place and we had a lovely treat with coffee mmmm . . . .

Here’s the recipe from my Williams-Sonoma Dessert cookbook:

FIRST. Before I begin. I want to give you a brief disclaimer. I don’t give you a recipe for pastry. Use whatever has worked for you in the past or just go buy some premade. I hate pastry. It’s a moody, hormonal bitch that never turns out when I really want it to and on days when I’m not really paying attention it turns out picture perfect. I have tried versions made in my food processer, by hand, with butter, without butter, half butter and half vegetable shortening. Egg no egg the options are endless and I think I’ve tried just about all of them. It’s a hassle. It’s annoying. So go buy some and save yourself the headache. For the record, I did make this pastry from scratch. It was a sticky, falling apart mess. My four year old has learned some new curse words thanks to this mornings’ pastry debacle.

Back to the Galette:

1 1/4 lb (625 Grams) Ripe fresh figs, stemmed and quartered lengthwise

1/3 cup (2 1/2 oz 21 grams) firmly packed sugar

1 1/2 tsp finely grated lemon zest

1 tsp Vanilla extract

2 tblsp heavy cream

1/4 cup sliced (flaked ) almonds

Roll out pastry about 13 inches round. Trim off ragged edges. ( I didn’t cut my ragged edges off my pastry dough because it would’ve been too small so I got ragged edges with my @#$%%% pastry)

Use dough scraper or icing spatula to loosen pastry if it sticks.

Toss together the figs, brown sugar, zest, and vanilla until all ingredients are evenly distributed.

Put dough onto baking sheet and arrange the figs in a pile in the center of the dough, leaving a 2 inch border uncovered. Fold the dough up and over the filling, pleating loosely all around the circle and leaving the galette open in the center. Brush the pleated dough with the cream. Sprinkle almonds on top of the dough and press them lightly to help them stick.

Bake until the crust is golden and the figs are tender when pierced with a tip of a knife, about 40 minutes. Let cool in a rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

My notes: The sugar escapes the galette and makes a burnt sticky mess that is hard to clean so cover the baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil then put the galette on it and bake.

After galette comes out of the oven I used two large flippers to ease the galette off the baking sheet and onto my cooling rack. I put a plate underneath it to catch to juice that leaked out.

After it cools:

Make a mass of whip cream and serve.

How (when) I turned into my Mother

 

He did it. My son. He rolled his eyes at me. He sighed. The long suffering sigh of a child that has to endure another lecture from his mother. The switch goes off. There is an off switch right by his ears. The cute mole? It’s not a mole it’s an off switch so when I start talking all he hears is the Charlie Brown teacher voice: wahwahwahwahwahwawawa…..

Oh help, where’s the my magic transmogrifier so I can turn back into Anita the perfect Mother that doesn’t nag? I support, I love but NEVER nag.

 

I can’t help it I will blow up. I have to say something when I know he hasn’t remembered his course starts on the 29th and he needs to take time off work . . . or his insurance comes out on the 22d. . . . does he have the money?

BECAUSE I’M YOUR MOTHER AND I KNOW WHAT’S BEST ! !

Wait. My mother called. She asked me if I’m taking the vitamins she bought for me. I rolled my eyes.

Help.

Back to School Tips

I was watching Breakfast television this morning and they had a brief segment on ‘mom blogs’. The host was so perky so early in the morning. She says: “lots of stuff for moms . . . back to school tips . . .”

Back to school tips?

Martinsally webshots

What’s hard about back to school? Go get some school supplies a couple of sweaters for the cold weather and off they go. But for those of you that need a list here you go:

Here are my Tips:

1) Getting up in the morning is hard after a lazy summer. If your child is having a hard time getting up in the early morning dump a small glass of ice water on their head. Not only will that wake said child up but will also wet their heads so they can comb their messy bed head hair out.

2) Getting dressed. I never put clothes away. They are either in the dirty laundry hamper, piled in the laundry basket or in the dryer. The frantic search for clothing in the morning is a good way for your children to get some exercise. Running up and down the basement stairs to the laundry room is good for their young hearts. And while they’re down there they can clean the cat litter and bring dinner up from the freezer.

3) Signing of day planners and permission slips. I taught my son to forge my signature as soon as he learned to spell. Please. They will do it anyway so you might as well teach them and save you the hassle.

martinsally webshots

4) Homework: Set a routine, you pour yourself a glass of wine and sit at the kitchen table with your laptop or desk and pc wherever your computer is. Make sure your child is close by and get him/her to open the school books while you surf the internet for the latest celebrity gossip. If you are asked a question you can quickly google it and be a good smart, know it all parent. (who remembers how to divide fractions anyway?)

5) Bedtime. By the time you are finished your bottle of wine and have had your fill of celebrity gossip and trashy t.v. you will want to pass out and go to bed. Your child will eventually get to bed on his own. Really.

spaghetti sauce and sex

My most wonderful and loving husband made spaghetti sauce the other night. It was for a camping potluck dinner.

It was a nice sauce. Compliments all around. It’s the next night that it really got good.

I was out having a couple of drinks with some friends. I got back and my sweetie was re heating the sauce and adding cheese. Not any old cheese my friends, it was plastic cheese. It’s what we call Kraft cheese slices. We are sure it can’t be real cheese but it’s really good. My sexy husband was re heating the sauce and noodles while adding cheese. I had had one too many drinks and all I wanted to do was slurp up some of that pasta.

I’d get to my hubby later.

I couldn’t wait for a plate so I asked him for a bite straight from the pot. The most delicious, savoury cheesy goodness melted in my mouth. It’s sitting on the stove now waiting for the fridge. I have gone back for seconds and thirds. The meaty thick sauce with the added cheesy goodness. I love my husband.

Give me another bite. Please. A Big forkful. Yum. My butt dimples thank you. The ultimate buzz worthy snack.

I may get through camping this week after all.

Splashes and Puddles

I wake up in the cold grey dawn other morning. How it could be so cold in August baffles me. I didn’t want to get out of my cozy bed but I had to pee. Badly. I peek out the camper window and see a small line of shivering half clad women waiting in line to use the outhouse.

You would think they would just pee in the woods. Heck, cop a squat and pee. What’s the big deal? Go pee and get over it.

Here’s the thing. There is no lady like way to squat and pee. There I am. My butt is hanging in the wind, my pants down around my ankles and I am shivering, usually half asleep (because I will only do this in the middle of the night when I am too chicken to make my way to the outhouse that is on other end of the camp ground, in bear country, in the middle of nowhere) and I am peeing. Nice image.

Even if I had a nice ass and didn’t mind it hanging about for every bear to check out it’s the splash and puddle that’s truly awful. Unless the ground has magically turned into an absorbent sponge towel I get the splash and puddle. My thong clad feet get splashed, and I am floating in a lovely pee puddle between my feet. I get up and step away from said puddle while pulling up my pants in one stumbling drunken move and make my way back to the camper with wet feet and a cold ass.

I promise the porcelain throne gods that I will kiss my toilet in appreciation when I get home. Some get off planes and kiss the ground. Me, when I get home from the deep woods, I kiss the toilet that flushes and keeps my feet dry.

*all pictures were taken while hanging out in the middle of nowhere, bear country, summer 2009

For You Three

 

I get to watch you grow up without wiping your ass or your snotty nose.

I get the fun parts mama gets the mood swings

I get to celebrate your achievements without nagging you to do your homework.

I can roll my eyes with you at your mother because, to be honest, she drives me crazy sometimes too ; )

 

I love you and always wish I could see you all more. Call me if you need a meal, a twenty, a shoulder to cry on or a good laugh.

xxx

just call me (auntie) Anita