Mom’s Day, my way

QUICKIE: Vincenzo to me: “Tomorrow is Mother’s Day.  That means you get to cook all day!!”
A couple incidents from the weekend that can neither be overlooked nor forgotten:

1. I sent Vincenzo to his aunt’s house for a few hours and he came back wearing not only her t-shirt but also her underwear.  My parenting handbook surprisingly neglects this topic, so I’m not sure where to go from here…

2. My family came over for Mother’s Day and by the end of the afternoon we had whipped out the Nads and removed neck hair from several of the men in the room.  I am consequently very worried for Father’s Day.

3. My mom gave me and the other moms present each a card for Mother’s Day.  We opened them together, said thank-you, and as we were tucking them into our purses this conversation pursued:

Me: Thanks Mom.  It was enough that you just thought to give me a card; you didn’t need to stick $1,000 in it.
Everyone else: [raucous laughter]
Me: What?  What’s everyone laughing at?  Oh–didn’t Mom give you $1,000?
My BIL (whose name, coincidentally, is Bill): No.  I’m laughing because she gave us $1,500.
Me: I hate you.

Don’t look at me!  But here was our Mom’s Day menu:

Grilled eggplant with balsamic vinegar and feta on toasts
Chilled cucumber soup with baby beets
Basmati stuffed peppers and tomatoes
Beef kebabs with cilantro and mint
Fruit and date platter
Bread and cheese (for the guys)
Rhubarb tart with lemon mousse
Lemon sandwich cookies
Double chocolate brownies
Some other awesome desserts my MIL made, but I forgot their names.

Thanks for all the help, family!

Love notes

QUICKIE: Vincenzo: “Reading books is good for your body.  Right, Mom?”
Kevin and I don’t get a ton of time to be one-one-one throughout the day/evening/night, so we like to seize advantage of small moments throughout the day to be romantic.  Take this segment from our IM session yesterday:

MrsMouthy says: Hey.
Kevin says: Howdy
MrsMouthy says: Damn Clyde.  He just drank out of the toilet and is now trying to lick me.
MrsMouthy says: He also puked under the bed, but as it’s on your side I figured it’s your problem.
Kevin says: I think all sides of the bed are yours now*
MrsMouthy says: On the bright side, the vet won’t have food for him until Monday so the puking shouldn’t be a problem.
Kevin says: We can just feed him people food from our plates
MrsMouthy says: Does that mean we’ll have to start drinking out of the toilets?

See what I mean?  Isn’t it romantic how we slip some bedroom talk into an otherwise mundane occurrence?  And how Kevin doesn’t use punctuation at the end of his sentences?  Rawr!

*A reference to the fact that he has been banished to the couch for most of my pregnancy.  He doesn’t usually snore but he BREATHES ALL NIGHT LONG and breathing is very hard to sleep next to.**

**This doesn’t always solve my insomnia.  Last night, for example, Kevin slept on the couch but I still couldn’t sleep because I was breathing and not only could I hear it, but my sense of smell is so acute that I was too grossed out by the smell of my own nose to fall asleep.  This is another one of pregnancy’s design flaws.

Maybe baked penned with prosciutto
Maybe glazed carrots
Maybe balsamic-marinated chicken
Maybe fudgy brownies
Maybe none of the above

This is my cry for help

QUICKIE: Question: If you witness your cat drinking from the toilet, how long do you need to wait to pet him–factoring in that your cat licks you when you pet him?
Kevin bought V a giganto castle Lego set this weekend.  Now I am sentenced to play with it day in and day out while Vincenzo watches, as that is how he believes playing works.  Let me introduce you to some of the players:

Evil skeleton warrior who knocks on the castle door and shouts, “Pizza delivery!”


Goodly but hungry king who invariably lets in “pizza delivery boy”


Goodly but hungry king’s bodyguard, who takes a potty break every time the king lets in “pizza delivery boy”


Grammy (on the left) and her dog Rasta (on the right) who may or may not be in cahoots with the “pizza delivery boy”


Would-be fire-breathing dragon who flies by the castle periodically yelling, “I’VE LOST MY HEAD!  I’VE LOST MY HEAD!  HOW AM I YELLING THIS?”


Said head


And this, people, is the reason I have virtually nothing to blog about this week.

Grilled pear and fontina sandwiches
Butternut squash soup
Amaretto brownies

Sometimes it’s hard to be a mammal

QUICKIE: Vincenzo, trying to spell “park”: “t…r…k…6…I forget what comes after the 6.”
Baby update.  Here’s what (a site we have started calling has to say about Mbungo this week: He now…measures 14 inches (an English hothouse cucumber) from head to heel. If you’re having a boy, his testicles are beginning to descend into his scrotum — a trip that will take about two to three days.

The pregnant-er I get, the more I’m aware of some underlying design flaws with human pregnancy.  Seriously, don’t you think Someone could have thought about the fact that pregnant ladies still need to put their own shoes on?  Or that sticking a baby in next to all the stomach/colon stuff might, might, maybe cause a couple problems?  Honestly, the only parts of my body that do not feel completely sick and nauseous are my limbs!  And acne?  How in heaven’s name could pregnancy zits ever have made it through all these years of evolution?!

I’m doing pretty good mentally, except for worrying that Mbungo is on the brink of death at all times.  When he’s not moving I worry that he’s gotten strangled in his cord; when he is moving I worry that he’s about to strangle himself in his cord.  I so wish the skin on my stomach was completely see-through so I could keep a better eye on this kid!  Evolution?  Talking to you again!

Oh well.  At least my belly button is cleaner than yours.


Pork with figs, apples, and mustard sauce
Asparagus soup
Noodles in browned butter
Vanilla cream pie

Don’t you wish your thumb was green like mine?

QUICKIE: Vincenzo: “I took a good nap, Mom.  Even when my eyes were open and I was talking loudly and kind of quietly, I was still sleeping.”
Remember the begonias I planted upside-down last month but which still managed to grow?  Check out what happens when I plant things right-side up.  I planted these seeds on Sunday–that’s five days ago, folks.  To help you get an idea of relative size, I took a picture of the grass next to a standard-size Ernie cookie jar:


You may from now on refer to me as Lord and Master.


Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtle

QUICKIE: Me, kissing Vincenzo: “A kiss because you’re sweet.”  Vincenzo: “No; I’m dangerous.”
Vincenzo is so far entrenched in his own imagination I sometimes wonder what he sees when he looks around the living room.  I, for example, see this:


He sees something more like this:

vincenzo's imagination

(As a side note, I showed Vincenzo this picture and asked him if anything was missing.  He said, “The poop.”)

He makes up scenarios in his head all day.  Here are a few conversations we’ve had this past week:

V: Mom, you be Jack and Annie [from Magic Treehouse] and pretend you are at Mount Vesuvius and tell me when it’s going to explode and then you say, “Oh no that volcano is exploding!”
Me: Okay.  And who are you?
V: I’m the flying ninja turtle.

V: Mom, how about you’re a baby turtle and you have to get to sea and you say, “Where’s my family?” and then an octopus tries to help you and you say, “That’s not helpful!”
Me: Okay.  And who are you?
V: I’m the flying ninja turtle.

V: Mom, how about you’re Harold [from Harold and the Purple Crayon] and you go into a deep, dark cave and you find a sleeping bear and you whisper, “We better get out of here,” and then you miss your dog.
Me:  Okay.  And who are you?
V: I’m the flying ninja turtle.  Do I have to tell you that every time?

As a side note, Vincenzo is sitting at the table right now flipping through a Crate & Barrel magazine, mumbling in a menacing voice, “I’m a flying ninja turtle.  I can BREAK everything in your imagination!”  As mundane as this flying ninja turtle stage can be at times, I have a feeling I’m really going to miss it someday.