The Sound of Silence (For Now)

It's 9:24pm...and they are finally asleep. I am relaxing on my couch, laptop in hand, comfortably cocooned in a soft blanket and listening to the peaceful sounds of: no screaming, crying, whining, and no one singing the Imperial March at the top of his lungs to torment his sisters.

We've survived another day with The Boy. (I've been on the lookout for a pseudonym that would help express our utter and never-ending bewilderment with our son and "The boy" seemed so much more appropriate than some of the other names I've been tempted to call him...)

But I digress.

One of the most recent acts of destruction wrought by The Boy was discovered at approximately 7:48pm last night. A flooding toilet, totally unresponsive to my mad plunging skills, quickly led to a brief interrogation of our mischievous 2 year-old. It was soon revealed that the cause of the blockage was most likely a ball flushed down the toilet because he didn't like it. (Seriously?)

Rather than discuss the awful process of trying to get a little ball out of a very small and horribly disgusting place, let me simply tell you that, with the help of a nice Home Depot employee (who also put up with my overly-tired and pajama-clad children at 8pm) and with the fortunate return of my husband early this morning, we were able to dismantle the toilet and retrieve the offensive ball.

And, if that wasn't enough for one day, The Boy also made sure we were paying him the appropriate amount of attention by dumping an entire bottle of basil on the carpet, running away with (and using) my (expensive) camera, spraying the house with CLR, spreading carpet cleaner on the floor (in an attempt to offset the rest?), AND...heading out on a journey and ending up 2 blocks from home on a busy street talking to some guy in a truck (thanks for finding/returning him, Kristin). It's been a long day.

Then, at approximately 7:48pm this evening I found him trying to flush the shower curtain down the toilet.

Here we go again.

If You Chance To Meet a Frown

He was trying his best to be mad. :)

The Kind of Place

We are expecting several family members to visit us here in a couple weeks. Family get-togethers typically elicit equal amounts of fun and stress. "Fun" because it's family. "Stress" because it's family. Wait, I meant to say: "Stress" because we have a small house and can't possibly accommodate all the loved ones we would like to.

Grandpa J. came up with a grand solution. He and Grandma will be driving their rather cozy RV with them. House guests with their own house? Lovely. I assumed they would simply camp out in front, or next to, our house. Grandpa had other plans. He suggested we look around for a campground/RV park they could comfortably call home for the couple days they would be here.

We looked online and found two locations both within minutes of our house. So, in an effort to gather additional information about the services offered, we shoved the three rug rats in the Swagger Wagon and headed out for a little look-see.

As we pulled up to Campground "A", I noticed three things immediately:

1) Each site seemed to be occupied. Strange for mid-February.

2) The RV's currently inhabiting the sites were...how shall I say this?...unique.

3) The aforementioned RV's had obviously been there for quite some time and each possessed slight modifications suggesting a vague sense of permanence.

Ignoring my first impression, Ian decided it wouldn't hurt to stop at the office and ask if they had any brochures or pamphlets we could pass on to his father. I choked back my typical glass-is-half-empty, skeptic reply and watched as he knocked on the door of the "office". When Ian asked the "manager" if they had any brochures his response was, "Do we look like the kind of place that's going to have a brochure?"

No. No you don't.

Campground "B" was more of the same. Grandpa and Grandma, you're staying with us. Bottom line.

Ugly Pancakes

When Lindy was little I surprised her one morning with a German Pancake. As I pulled it out of the oven she grimaced and told me she WOULD NOT eat it. When I assured her that it was just a different way of making pancakes, she shrugged and said, "Yeah, well it's an ugly pancake." and walked away.

Her given nick-name has stuck. In spite of it's rough beginning, it is now one of the girl's favorite breakfast items and they request it all the time. Since it's an easy one, we end up eating it more than we probably should. (But, because it's delicious, I rarely complain.)

Puffed Oven Pancakes

(A.K.A. Ugly Pancakes)

4 Tbsp. butter or margarine

6 eggs

1 c. flour

1 c. milk

1/2 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 400˚. Place butter in bottom of 9x13 pan (glass pans work better) and place in oven for 3 to 5 minutes or till butter melts. In a mixing bowl use a wire whisk or rotary beater to beat eggs till combined. Add flour, milk, and salt. Beat till mixture is smooth. Immediately poor into hot pan and place in oven. Bake about 25 minutes or till puffed and well browned.

Cut into wedges and serve warm. Makes 12(ish) servings (which barely feeds my family of 5).

You can top with fruit, sprinkle with powdered sugar, or top with whipped cream. Our favorite topping? Smuckers Boysenberry Syrup. Yummy!

Recipe from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book - 2000 Edition (doubled)

Guess Who Had My Camera

Sorry Curtis...the shorts, the cute little boy legs, and the lack of artistic creativity gave you dead away.