All is good in the world right now

Well, here we are the day before Thanksgiving, and I have to admit it, I am way ahead of the game. My little man is on the mend.....although a little bi-polar with all the meds. That's the only reason I'm starting to lose my mind. The military base has many planes landing today, with some troops coming home, and that makes it a great sound, even if they do sound like they're going to land on my roof. AND I have gotten an amazing amount of cooking done ahead of time! So tomorrows list will read like this:
Wake up.
Stuff Enormous Turkey
Put Enormous Turkey in the oven.
Have first mimosa.
Make sweet potatoes.
Have second mimosa.
Watch my favorite parade of all on TV.
Finish cooking whatever, (at this point mimosas should be kicking in...won't care about much)
Have more Mimosas, wine, etc.
Eat.
Have Husband clean up.
Serve Pear and dried cherry crisp with homemade ice cream.
have Husband clean up again.
All will be right in the world again.

Happy Thanksgiving all!!

Scary....much more scary then a sleepover

This has been the LONGEST week of my life. Last Tuesday evening, my son started to get the symptoms of a cold. Now, for the last year every time he gets a cold, it sets of asthma. They hadn't officially diagnosed it as that, because it had all these stipulations to go with it. Had to be on a steroid a certain number of times, had to have so many attacks, etc. Nothing about it being so bad, that an ER trip was necessary to stop it, and even then, THEY struggled, to get this tiny set of lungs to breathe properly. That all took place in June. Here we are 5 attacks, or colds, later and Tuesday night my son is gasping for breathe and my 8 year old is pointing out the obvious. "MOM, he's turning blue." I gave him 1 treatment, then another, then 2 doses of a steroid, and finally, his light blue hue faded. I had learned not to rush off to the hospital, and just follow the regimen. Yikes. For the next 2 days I counted breathes, checked him temperature, and kept giving him treatments, as I felt he needed them.
Friday morning, he babbled incoherently ( he was sleeping next to me), but didn't move. I thought he was just waking up slowly. I rolled towards him to snuggle him in and saw that his face was flaming red. I tried to wake him. He was barely awake, just muttering things I couldn't understand. I took his temperature and it was 104.5. I'm watching his stomach, as I'm taking his temperature, and he's got a hole so sunken in , on his chest, that I can fit my thumb into it. He was retracting hard. (meaning his diaphragm was working VERY hard to push the breathe in and out of his lungs. I woke Tierney and was out of the house in minutes, dropping her off on my way out for someone else to put her on the bus. We get to the Dr.'s office and low and behold, he's got pneumonia. I feel so guilty. I followed everything to a T! I immediately blame the little girl, that I watch in the morning and afternoon. Her father is newly divorced, a Police Chief, and I feel sorry for her. Except that he's so busy he can't take her to the Dr. and every time she comes over sick, Riley ends up sick and having asthma attacks. She doesn't cover her mouth, plays with his toys, and infests my house with every germ on her. My daughter has become fantastically diligent in hand washing and sanitizing. She hates to see her brother like this. I irritates me to no end, that he uses me like this. (and only pays me at HIS convenience....a whole nother story.) I understand that he has no one else to turn too. But I have explained OVER and OVER the situation with my son. Whatever. Anyway, since Friday, I have administered nebulizer treatments every four hours, even through the night. I feel like a walking zombie. I feel that no amount of sleep could even take me out of this haze. I had a cake to do for someone on Saturday. I made the filling, made the icing, cut the cake into the correct shape, and proceeded to ice and decorate it......without the filling. Thankfully, I knew the family well, and I gave them the filling, on the side and they served it with the cake. And laughed at me. Today we went back, and we have to continue this for a few more days, and then start to decrease it. My own family can't believe that a chef like me hasn't even set the menu for Thanksgiving. You people will be lucky if you even get Turkey. Tease, Tease, Tease...... it's all fun and games until there's nothing to eat! Thankfully, he's on the mend, and we'll be starting a daily treatment to prevent this from progressing to pneumonia again. Sorry about the bitching.....just need to get it all out, and relieve some of the stress and exhaustion. Happy Turkey day, as that's all you'll be getting.

P.s. Damn it! They know I'll pull this fabulous meal out of my ass! Curse the perfectionism in me!!

Oh. My. God.

I am still recovering from what had to be the longest night of my life. To start, Friday night I let the cat out of the bag that I had a surprise guest coming. OOpps. In my wine haze, I thought I was being quiet and Tierney was in the other room. That was the first of excited outbursts. We had just finished her requested Birthday dinner of, Grilled London Broil, Sauteed Tilapia with butter, lemon and herbs de provence, Baked asparagus with crumbled Blue cheese, and Great-Grandmas Baked Macaroni and cheese. (She totally chose this all herself!)

I made sure the surprise guest was coming an hour earlier then everyone else, so T and her friend would have some time to catch up. (she is from where we used to live)The MINUTE Tierney opened her eyes Saturday morning, she wanted to know How many hours until she came. This went on all day, with her announcing every hour how much time was left. Starting to lose my mind at this point. The rest of the guests were coming at 5. At 3:30, I chose to have a relaxing, lets-get-this-over-with glass of wine. At 4 Nina arrived, and Her very cool Mom had brought us another bottle of wine!! Yea! We were off to a good start. At exactly 5, one after another they marched in, bouncing off the walls. Moms left phone numbers, were they would be (of course they were all running for the hills, laughing at me) and poof were gone. More wine. We ordered pizza in the midst of the yelling and running and torturing the 2 year old. A quick flurry of gift opening and then the first argument. One of the girls had brought a game that nobody knew how to play, and my son wanted to take the pieces and run. She pouted for about an hour. I have no patience for that kind of drama. I very nicely told her it would be a long night, if she kept it up and she was welcome to go home, if she was that mad. (I'm really good friends with her Mom, so I knew I could torture her.) After a very short silence, while pizza was being inhaled, ( and oh my god, how do 5 girls eat 2 whole pizzas?) we moved on to what may have been my stupidest idea of the evening. I was going to to teach them cake decorating. Armed with Pastry bags, tons of sprinkles, and 2 dozen cupcakes, we were off.

I tried, I really did. A few made roses with my help, and then they all moved on to sprinkles. Needless to say, there was a carpet of sprinkles on the kitchen floor within minutes.

Here is T trying to make a rose:

Here is my Husband LOSING his mind with all the sprinkles everywhere.

I nipped the project in the bud as quickly as possible. Got them all into her room, put on a movie and though we were on our way to relaxing. Wrong. There were 3 very strong personalities there and they just fought over every little bit of attention. At this point my husband had taken my son to our room to try and get him to sleep with all the noise. He NEVER came back out. I thought that dirty rat had bailed on me and had left me to sink or swim!!!! Little did I know that every time they jumped or screamed they woke my son. I was starting to lose it. I made popcorn, two got into an argument and 1 decided to go home. (The pouter from earlier, who I didn't expect to make through the night anyway.) Made the call, and she was gone. Drama over and down 1. They finally started to settled down around 11, and another cam out crying. Every time she closed her eyes, she thought of her mom. Her mom had gone to a concert, so her Uncle was on Stand-by, but she didn't want to go there because it was boring. I nicely explained that she'd just end up going right to sleep anyway if she went there. She decided to go back in the room with the girls and was back out within a half an hour. Ninny me said, let's get your pillow and you can try to fall asleep here on the couch. I'll stay right here with you. 12, 12:30 and she finally fell asleep. At this point, I couldn't move her. I admit to having a few glasses of wine and figured, I'd walk into the room, trip on all the other girls, drop her, go down myself, and all hell would break loose. So what do I do???? I decide to sleep upright in the chair next to her!! at 3:30, I was still awake. At 4 I tried the floor. At 4:30, I gave up. I was worried that she'd wake up and have a moment of panic. The "where am I" fear.

I went to bed, and at 5 am, minutes after I had fallen asleep, our STUPID 25 lb. cat named "Tinkerbell" was scratching at our door. I finally gave up. Let her in, slept for an hour and everyone was up and ready for bacon, sausage and pancakes at 6. So, let's rehash........I slept for AN HOUR!!! I made breakfast, and had stupidly told parents pick up was 10 am, thinking the girls would sleep late, having been up late. They were done eating by 8:15 and proceeded to make a huge pile of pillows and blankets in the middle of my daughters floor and jump from her bed to the pile. I popped a xanax, sat down with my coffee and counted the minutes until I could sleep. My husband, who was in bed with my son at 8:30 said, oh you can just go to bed when everyone leaves, I'll take care of everything today. Everyone left and what does he do...???? "oh, can I just blow out the gutters really fast?" and then "Can I mow really fast?". That turned into a disaster, the mower wasn't working he came in the house, tried to reach something on the highest shelf in the laundry room, and proceeded to pull the entire shelf down. He ran out the door and left me, almost in tears cleaning up. (The neighbor was outside trying to "help". Idiots. FINALLY at 1 pm, I dragged myself to the bed and crashed. Of course Mommy can't nap ALONE, so my 2 year old slept with me. When he woke up I just yelled for someone to come get him and I went back to sleep. I still don't think I have recovered.....

NEVER AGAIN.

Feeling a little old

So, it's 9:26 Friday night, November 9, 2007. 8 years, 3 hours and 17 minutes ago, I welcomed my 9 lb. 1oz. (yes, huge and born early) baby girl into the world. How can I, at the age of 33 have an 8 year old? And by my life's plan at the early age of god knows when, I wanted six kids. Crazy?! Yes. I guess that was pre-prozac, pre-xanax, and pre-vodka. I did spend a short period of time as a nanny and loved it. But only because I could LEAVE, at the end of the day, with no children. I love my kids, more then I ever thought I could. Tonight, a friend came by and wanted to know the story about Tierney's birth. My husband always wanted the TV/Movie scenario, where I said "It's Time!". ( He did get it with the second child) Instead I cursed him out about not needing the fucking bag for the hospital, because it was not HAPPENING TODAY!! Needless to say, the Dr. said "Do you have your bag? Today's the day! I think the baby's going to be big." ASSHOLE! What Dr. in their right mind sends a first time mother to the hospital thinking their about to give birth to a HUGE baby??!! I'm feeling old. 33 with an 8 year old. I seem so young compared to the Fem-Bots. I was a defiant young girl from as early as I possibly could get away with it. I see her heading in the same direction, and don't know how to handle her. My parents were BEYOND strict and that's why I rebeled. Anywho...here's to my girl, now 8......all growed up.... Cheers baby girl, Mommy raises a glass of wine and yummy cake to you :)

The First and most likely the Last

My darling Daughter is turning on 8 on Friday. This year for her Birthday we gave her a choice. Find some Hokey place to have the party, invite a lot of friends, spend a fortune or Choose a select few (a few turned into 4) to sleep over and we would give her Money to shop to her hearts content ( a limited amount of money). She choose, drum roll please...the sleepover. UUUGGGHHHH, my stomach dropped. I am hoping that this teaches her 1) the value of money. How far an amount will really go. 1 big thing or lots of little things. Her choice. 2) That Mom really doesn't like sleepovers. I know that 1 child will not be spending the night. She doesn't do well, and I told her she could stay until 10 or so and then come back for breakfast in the morning. She only lives down the street, so it's no big deal. Another one may end up doing the same. Which leaves 1 quiet child and 1 very hyper one. I don't deal well with the crying at midnight. I know it sounds horrible, but I don't have the patience. I don't mean to sound heartless, but just tell me you want to go home and it's done. Easy enough. No Drama needed.
I am also a person that needs sleep and sleepovers don't allow that. AND I stupidly planned this in the middle of a 5 day weekend!!! AM I CRAZY? I guess it will give me time to recover, but it totally throws my routine off. Here is how I plan to have the evening to go:
5:00- everyone arrives.
5:05 -first shot of vodka for Mom
5:30- pizza. Originally I was going to make dough and do "make your own"...came to my senses on that one!!
5:40 -while they're eating, second and third shot of vodka for mom...possibly one for Dad at that point too.
6:00- go destroy Tierney's room time.
6:02-6:30 eat pizza myself and drink one very dirty martini
7:00- decorate you own cupcake time- not sure if this or make your own pizza would be worse. 1 quick cake decorating lesson and they are on their own.
7:45- Now that the sugar high has kicked in, time for Dirty martini#2.
8:00- Popcorn and a movie time for the kids, and by this point, I will probably have to FIND my husband. I know he has big plans an staying scarce during this party...think again buddy!
10:00 -kick out the ones that aren't staying, Give the lecture on the fact that a 2 year old sleeps in this house too and the first one to wake him will be sleeping in his bed with him.
10:10- kick up my feet, ignore the hell hole that was once my beautiful kitchen and drink Dirty Martini#3.
The next morning, I will get up, make them a lovely breakfast and promptly kick them all out.

I'll keep you posted on how it REALLY goes.

I am going to Bitch....

I have since the day I saw her, hated her cheeky, round unbelievably annoying face. I hate the way she speaks, I hate the way she abbreviates everything or makes up some stupid word, that's in every commercial she is in. As I walk down the supermarket aisles now, She god awful grin is staring me in the face. I now boycott any product she promotes. And damn it, I like the iced coffee, but she ruined it for me. Her name is so hard for me to even write, let alone say. The Bitches name is RRRR.....Rachel. Ray. There are many reasons that I despise her. She has no professional training. She did work in a deli or something growing up, and her Mom was in the food industry somehow. The only reason I know these stupid facts are that my family thinks it is HYSTERICAL to send me links, pictures, articles etc. about her. About 2 years ago, they even went so far as to buy me a Cookbook by her, for my Birthday. I am a huge birthday person, love them, love to celebrate them, love to make unforgettable cakes for them. After opening this "gift", I held by the corner of the book, afraid to touch it. Almost like one would hold a dead rat by the tail. I proceeded to flip through it and make fun of every recipe. I'm sorry folks, but do you really not know how to make a yogurt parfait? She actually had a recipe for layering store bought yogurt, granola and fruit in a glass. Hello??? For a lot people, all mixed together, it's called "breakfast". Needless to say, I grilled the book practically to ashes and put it on a platter for the to eat. No dinner and a very sucky Birthday that year. I think they learned their lesson.
Now you could be read this and say "oh Kell's just jealous". No jealousy here. Major Annoyance. How does the public get so sucked in, that she now she has lines of knives, and pots and a magazine and show! Every cooking catalog, magazine, major publication has her nappy face on it somewhere. I have heard through the show biz world (My dad is involved) that she has so many rules when you come to see her show. You can't wear certain colors and no prints. No jeans, etc. You can't ask questions pertaining to anything but cooking. It's all about her and her big fucking ego. I guess what erks me the most is that us Little people who went to culinary school, worked our asses off, (and as a woman, was usually the major minority in the all male kitchens.....you'd better be able to keep up in that world, or the big boys will crush you on purpose) made our way up in the kitchen Hierarchy, deserve some credit. What does she have that I don't? I taught cooking classes, I could have a show......I have classical French training!! And yes, I will admit that I do cut corners. Feeding children is completely different. I will buy spaghettios, and Kraft Mac and Cheese. They are kids.....they eat like kids. They will eat some bizarre things for kids, like hummus, Baba ganoush, My daughter can eat an entire piece of prime rib. My 2 years is a cheese connoisseur. Throw a slab of ribs on my daughters plate and it's gone in minutes.
That's my Bitch. The Bitch is ruining all that I love. This blog was created because I just got my favorite Kitchen catalog and low and behold she has invaded another of my favorite spaces. I will say it, and they do have a website for R.R haters.

I. HATE. RACHEL. RAY.
I feel better now, Thanks.