B'Twixt and B'Tween

Big T the Chef

He's not ready for Top Chef yet, but Big T has embarked on a cooking career.  Or at least, he decided to set up his own chore list and he put cooking dinner on the top of his list for Mondays.  Starting last night. And starting with cooking for guests, no less.

When he first started discussing the idea, we pulled out a Nickelodeon cookbook and selected a few recipes that appealed.  Big T has been making his own quesadillas (cheese only, no other fillings please), and I figured we were in for a slow process of working other ingredients into the tortillas for Husband and me.  But instead, he selected a homemade mac and cheese, cheeseburgers, homemade stovetop chicken nuggets and pizza to add to his repertoire.  Starting with the mac and cheese.

As expected, this offered a few teachable moments.  He was enthused about measurements, including dividing fractions (we made only half the recipe for our family size). And he was suitably put off by the idea that the orange so familiar in the blue Kraft boxed mac and cheese is partly food coloring.  Even though his white sauce remained pale after the cheese was added, he thought that was better than the artificial orange.  He even invited a friend to come for dinner, and we all gobbled down the mac and cheese.  Note: next time, cut back on the cayenne pepper.

Also on the food theme:  I must share with you this link to The Best Broccoli of Your Life!  I must agree that it is really good.  I might have overdone the lemon zest, but roasting is the way to go.  We have some fresh asparagus, and I'll be trying this pan fried version next.  Maybe I'm just in love with my new microplane.

Hope you're also cooking up something good!

Family Love Fest

Well, not to keep you hanging...

Mother-in-Law is doing much better.  Two rounds of dialysis seem to have "jump started" the kidneys again, and she was moved out of ICU during the week.  Most of the tubes are gone, leaving her black and blue (all over, she says).  The major challenge now seems to be muscle weakness; she is getting physical therapy.  Her release date keeps getting pushed back, but she is making progress. The challenge when she returns home will be to build up the strength, including nutrition as well as exercise.

***

Father-in-Law is visibly relieved and also has much more color, now that Mother-in-Law is doing better.  He ended up staying a few nights at our house in order to be closer to the hospital.  On Wednesday night he stopped by again on his way home from the hospital and admitted that he had been worried that she might die.  This is not a demonstrative couple, but their devotion has been clear through this ordeal.

***

After asking the doctors' opinion, I traveled for business early this week, and it turned into quite an odyssey:  up well before dawn in order to catch a Monday morning flight; bumpy weather; high winds in Kansas City Monday evening that actually made a colleague and I turn back from a walk; then circling for several hours and an unscheduled fueling stop on Tuesday evening before landing more than 3 hours late.  Turns out the bothersome spring winds in Kansas City had moved to become dangerous wind sheers at the Minneapolis Airport.  Just as well to ride it out on the ground in Rochester.

The good news:  Father-in-Law handled morning and afternoon bus duties with Big T while I was gone.  A treat for both, I think.

***

Before all of this began, we celebrated yet another "Big Cookie Day," as it has affectionately become known around here.  This is the 10th anniversary of Big T coming into our family, sometimes known in adoption circles as "Gotcha Day."  We spent the first couple of years trying different celebrations for our small, immediate family before settling -- at Big T's request -- on a giant decorated cookie.  The first year that we ordered a cookie to say "Happy Gotcha Day," the cookie shop thought it was a mistake and didn't make it!  Now, we've got a bakery "trained," and they don't blink at our unusual wording.  One giant chocolate chip cookie piped with Big T's favorite Packer's colors and everybody's happy.

***

Big T is on Spring Break this coming week, but Husband and I are not.  We've discussed and decided that in this economy, we'd rather save the vacation time and money.  We did have a giant trip to Vietnam this winter, and are planning a summer reunion trip to meet our traveling friends at culture camp in Denver this summer.  So we'll be close to home for the week. 

***

Brother #2 is a more serious victim of the economy, and his job ended yesterday.  He has had a couple of months heads' up, but was so busy closing the branch of his retail employer that he did not have time to dedicate to an intensive job search. We all are keeping our fingers crossed for him.

Meantime, Brother realized that his new "at home" status and Big T's Spring Break time coincide. So they have plans to spend Tuesday hanging out.  Brother hasn't had time to do very much of that, and Big T jumped at the chance.

***

So, it turns out that all of these tales have kept us very busy but also very grounded in the goodness of family love. 

  

Emergency Calling

It is NOT like my father-in-law to call after 10 p.m., and not like Husband to sit straight up and start figuring out logistics for which is better: driving from Minneapolis to Cambridge or spending the night at our house.  Although I could hear a male voice on the other end of the telephone (after it woke us from our just-beginning sleep last night), I did not recognize the voice on the other end of the phone. But it was my father in law. And it was/is an emergency.

My mother-in-law was hospitalized about a week ago for what she feared was pneumonia but was diagnosed as a bronchial infection. She was weak and still not feeling well, so arrangements were made for a nurse to come to their house a few times during the week.  We all visited last weekend, and she was discharged at the beginning of the week.

Husband visited her a few evenings during the week, and she seemed to be making progress.  Although plans to resist a walker didn't work out -- the dining chairs are on casters, but they get stuck on the carpeting; a wheelchair the family already owned was too tall to use for walking support and too wide to make it down the bedroom/bathroom hallway. The inlaws finally gave in to a walker by the end of the week, and it seemed things were going better.

The nurse arrived yesterday afternoon and very quickly discovered that things are not all right -- while my mother-in-law looked and sounded alert, she had an extremely weak pulse and her temp didn't even register on the thermometer -- waaayyyyy too low.  A quick trip to the Cambridge ER and arrangements were made to transport her by ambulance to a specialty hospital in the city. She was quickly moving into kidney failure, and underwent dialysis right away. 

This is a very serious illness, her internist told us today, and while they don't feel they are completely on top of it yet, there has been progress since last night. 

But when we got home this afternoon, there was a message from the hospital. Her lab tests are not good, and they have started a second round of dialysis.

The doctor says sudden onset of kidney failure, like this one, often can be reversed with dialysis.  But we don't know why it happened.  About one patient in a million develops kidney failure after using her diabetes medication. But that may not be the answer, either.

Meantime, we have a house guest. We were able to persuade my father-in-law to bunk in Big T's bed while my mother-in-law is in the hospital. (Bonus: Big T always likes sleeping in the family room.) The two of them -- Big T and father-in-law -- have plans for the morning, when Grandpa will see Big T off to the school bus while I have an early morning work schedule. Here's hoping that the bonding time is positive all around and that mother-in-law turns the corner soon.

Has Spring Really Sprung?

Could Spring be here to stay?

Big T and Husband rode their bikes to church yesterday.  They walked the dog right after breakfast, and we opened up all the windows.  The frozen pond that is our front yard has completely melted, and large patches of grass are showing through the remaining snow drifts. Big T set off for the bus stop wearing a hooded sweatshirt instead of a two-layer snowboarding jacket. And the dog is sniffing appreciatively through patio screens, instead of pawing at solid glass doors.

I remember very clearly those Easter weekends of my childhood -- they seemed to mark the change of seasons.  On Good Friday, there could be snow; our family would load up the car with two complete sets of clothing.  Winter coats, mittens, scarves and sweaters. Plus springy Easter outfits and light jackets and maybe, if the forecast was especially good, shorts for good measure.  Because when you set off to drive for five hours through western Minnesota and into eastern South Dakota, you just never know what Mother Nature has in store.

The Easters I treasure are the ones where a wind would come up out on the flat prairie, blowing that brown road sand across the windshield with the promise that Spring was truly sweeping through the air. By Sunday, the Sun would be shining bright and it would be hard to remember why the winter boots were in our car trunk.

The birds were in full chirp this morning as my alarm rang.  The squirrels are having a grand time chasing each other around the yards. The neighbors are walking, some pushing baby buggies.  I have begun wondering how muddy the paths through the Nature Center are -- do we dare try them out yet?

Bikes are lying carelessly on the blacktop driveway. My second bunch of daffodils have opened in the dining room vase. It's not Easter yet. But the winds of Spring are starting to blow, and I am hoping that this week is the good weather charm.

Scrumptious Sunday: Luck O' the Irish

In honor of my Cavanaugh grandfather, I like to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with a corned beef dinner.  And this is the easiest method ever -- only 15 minutes of prep in the morning for a piping hot dinner in the evening.  Round it out with a salad and rye bread -- plus, see the "Irish" brownie recipe below for an appropriate dessert.  If you are still hungry, scan to the bottom of this post for a real treat -- a recipe tip from the royal celebrities of one of the funniest St. Patrick's Day parades in the country: the Sweet Potato Queens.  They'll get you into a festive mood quicker than you can cook a rasher of bacon!

Corned Beef and Cabbage Dinner, from a Pillsbury brand slow cooker cookbook

Dinner:

2 pounds small red potatoes

1 1/2 Cup baby carrots

1 medium onion, cut into 8 wedges

1 (2 to 2 1/2 pounds) corned beef brisket with seasoning packet

2 Cups apple juice

8 thin wedges cabbage

Place potatoes, carrots and onion in a 5 to 6 1/2 quart Crock Pot.  Top with corned beef brisket; sprinkle with the contents of the seasoning packet.  Pour the apple juice over the top; add just enough water to barely cover the brisket.  Cover and cook on low for 10 to 12 hours.

About 40 minutes before serving, remove the beef from the slow cooker and cover to keep warm.  Add cabbage wedges to the vegetables and broth in the Crock Pot and increase the heat to high. Cover and cook for an additional 30 to 35 minutes, or until the cabbage is crisp/tender.

Horseradish sauce:

1/2 Cup sour cream

1/4 Cup mayonnaise

2 Tbs. prepared horseradish

2 tsp. Dijon mustard

Combine all ingredients and mix well. 

Slice the corned beef across the grain; serve with horseradish sauce and vegetables.  (I like to crush the potatoes with the tines of a fork and ladle on a bit of broth, too.)

Brownie Dessert with Irish Cream Topping

Base:

1 (10.25-ounce)package fudge brownie mix

1/4 Cup vegetable oil

2 Tbs. Irish cream liqueur

2 eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom only of an 8-inch square baking pan. 

In a large bowl, combine all brownie base ingredients; stir with a spoon for about 50 strokes or until blended.  Spread the batter in the greased pan and bake for 23 to 26 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.  Cool for about an hour.

Irish Cream Topping:

1 (8-ounce) carton (1 Cup) whipping cream

1/4 Cup milk

1/2 (3.4-ounce) package instant vanilla pudding and pie filling mix (this is equal to 1/4 Cup plus 1 1/2 tsp. of the pudding mix)

3 Tbs. Irish Cream liqueur

1 (1.4-ounce) bar chocolate-covered toffee candy, crushed

In a medium bowl, combine the whipping cream, milk, pudding mix and 3 Tbs. Irish Cream liqueur. Beat at high speed for 4 to 6 minutes or until soft peaks form.  Spread it over the cooled brownies -- it will be a thick layer of frosting. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours.  Just before serving, sprinkle with crushed candy and cut into 9 squares.

And now, I know I promised you a treat from the Sweet Potato Queens.  This hilarious group, founded by and chronicled by Jill Conner, divides its favorite foods into four categories: salty, sweet, fried, and cheese.  I think this qualifies for all (except the cheese) -- it's from The Sweet Potato Queens' Big-Ass Cookbook and Financial Planner:

Pig Candy

You need several strips of bacon and enough brown sugar to coat them all. Once the bacon is covered in brown sugar, bake it at 350 degrees F. for about 20 minutes.

In case you don't believe that someone could actually eat this, rave about it, write it down and publish it as a real recipe, check out this book review. Better yet:  buy the book and laugh yourself silly.

My own St. Patrick's Day observance will be much more tame than their adventures, believe me.  But we'll be licking our plates after this dinner.

Running Away

Today was the day. The big day when Big T decided to run away.

His attitude has needed serious adjustment for weeks now.  Husband and I renewed our resolve and decided to focus on three behaviors: no sassing, acknowledge that you have heard us and come when called, and take personal responsibility for your homework. Then we read a new book, filled with reminders about dealing with behavior and attitude challenges, called Have a New Kid By Friday. We started 1) letting reality be the teacher; 2) learning to respond rather than react; and 3) remembering that B doesn't happen until A is completed.

Big T was very surprised last week to learn that his allowance was 50 cents less than expected.  He had not set the table two nights that week, so Husband and I did it -- and paid ourselves a quarter each time. 

He has had good moments and bad moments ever since. This morning he decided to pitch a fit about a church class, saying he would not go. (It was about the 10 Commandments. He decided to prove he didn't need the class by reciting them -- including Thou Shall Honor Thy Mother and Thy Father!)  So we decided that he could either go to the class or he could stay home. But staying home meant skipping this evening's school carnival, too.

So he packed up his DS game, grabbed a can of soda, put on his coat and stalked out of the house and through the back yard in the snow. I figured he was trudging off to a friend's house, and suggested that we simply let him go.

After all, it is somewhat of a childhood ritual.  I ran away when I was much smaller -- probably about 5 years old.  I went to Debbie and Janelle's house -- or, actually, their garage -- very early one morning and hid there. I planned to sleep there for days and days, begging for food from my friends and playing with the doll I brought along.  I don't remember if I had even gotten dressed before leaving home, or if I had packed any clothes.  I was sure I would not be discovered.

But of course, I was discovered. I went home that same morning and was cuddled and petted and snuggled in my parent's bed, reminded that I was loved. We read books and dried tears before getting up to face the day.

I figured Big T would have a short adventure at his friends' house, then come home before the day was up. It was going to be hard to stick to our resolve not to go to the carnival after he returned.

Husband says he probably ran away as a child too, but he couldn't recall the experience. And, he reminded me, it is a much different world now. So he drove off to see if he could glimpse Big T.

To our surprise, Big T was already headed back home. He hadn't been gone long enough to reach his planned destination, so he must have changed his mind quickly. He got into the car with Husband and agreed to go to the church class.

I went off to my morning appointment, too. When I returned, Big T met me with the news that he had changed his attitude.  I'm sure this evening's carnival has a lot to do with that decision. But parenting is all about the hope. So I'm hoping this is the classic situation where behavior worsens before getting better, and that Big T is turning a corner. I'll be sealing the deal with an extra kiss on the forehead after he falls asleep tonight.

Groovy

Peace, Man. It's "Back to the '60s-'70s-80s Day" at Big T's school.  He started wishing for an Afro, but settled for a zodiac pendant left over in my jewelry box (from the actual Bicentennial year!), a tie-dyed shirt with a taped-on peace symbol, his own hemp macrame necklace and a wild headband (yeah, I've seen that on hippies, he told me). Dude.

 

 

And Then I Crashed. Literally.

I have stepped over the top of the doggie gate at the bottom of our stairs a bazillion times a day. Except for this morning. The sound of the gate crashing to the floor and my very loud thud of knees hitting the thin-carpet-over-concrete basement floor and very verbal "Yooouuuccccchhhh!" brought Husband running from the opposite end of the house and down the stairs. Where I lay babying my knees, afraid to roll up my pant legs and look for bruises and scrapes and instead asked him to bring me a cold pack and/or bag of frozen peas. Preferably one for each knee.

I am actually quite proud that no naughty words were uttered.

When I was able to not only straighten my legs but also see that no bones were broken, I called my boss to let him know I had been delayed on my way to our meeting and gingerly went on my way.  Husband remembered to bring me extra strength Tylenol and also put it into my bag and I decided that winter storm be danged, I wasn't going to wear stockings that put an elastic band just at the point of injury and instead would brave the day with bare legs under my wool tweed slacks.

Last winter I slipped on ice, seemingly hitting my tail bone on each and every step at our front door -- bang/bang/bang/bang -- bringing Big T running back from the bus stop and resulting in a huge black bruise across my bum.

Then this January, I sprained my ankle quite badly on our last night in Hanoi (and because I didn't want to see a developing-world doctor, dealt with quite a bit of swelling on the long flights home).

So now I'm racking my brains to figure out why I seem suddenly clumsy. Could it be a side effect of menopause? A symptom of simply juggling too many tasks and then trying to keep my balance (pun intended) as I head out the door with a full mug of coffee and a briefcase of supplies for an extra-early meeting across town? Or maybe lack of sleep?

Or, I could focus on how I miraculously avoided serious injury and am not even all that stiff. And take comfort in the analysis of a co-worker: she says all that Wii Fit exercise is helping me stay limber enough to take the fall. Hmmm.

Still Reading the Paper -- and Talking About It Too

Okay, so many conversations about the plight and future of newspapers. Check out this piece from Just a Girl in San Francisco about how newspapers do make a difference. Or the piece about the piece (and all the comments that follow) from BlogHer. Some movers and shakers in the newspaper business have started the newspaperproject.org.

These conversations have crept into my personal circle too. Had lunch today with a former colleague. J. also "grew up" in newspapering.  We started from the statement, "great time to not be in the newspaper business, huh?" and moved on from there.  Noted:

- Some cooperation agreements between newspapers make sense to us, others don't.  Do two neighboring newspapers really need their own printing presses?  Prob-ly not. Should they be sharing delivery staff? Also prob-ly not. And please quit kicking your own staff to the curb in favor of someone from your "partner" television station -- like the weather columnist, for example.

- Ads on the editorial pages stink, and the most recent Target ad in the middle of the page really stunk. From the advertiser's point of view, it made great sense -- disrupt the reader's experience and you get much more attention from those eyeballs that you paid for. But to purists like my friend J. and I, it's a line that Should. Not. Be. Crossed.

- Even more disturbing is a trend toward putting a story on the website before it's really ready for consumption.  Rumor has it one newspaper is asking reporters to "write it up" based on just one interview, then update the online story every time another interview is completed.  Makes sense on paper, but hold on there, partner. What about objectivity and balance? What if you don't get to the interview for the opposing view until the fourth or fifth interview? Will readers hang in there that long? And even if they do, will the final interview hold as much weight as the first?

- My own staff -- spokeswomen for the dairy industry --have to be encouraged to consume the media they work with.  I finally offered to pay for subscriptions to the major newspapers in their markets in order to get them to read the paper (they much preferred viewing the online versions; see my comments about how much I think is missed that way). But now, with the economy tanking and mandates to cut certain staff expenses, I have to consider whether to eliminate that "perk" as an unnecessary subscription. So far, I just can't bring myself to do it. Even though it's only one subscriber per city, it still contributes to the economic freefall that newspapers are experiencing.

- And. Are we really surprised at the way reporters are being directed to do their work, given that ownership has moved from the news-gathering professional to the venture capitalist?  The 'fourth estate' mindset doesn't necessarily apply.

Well, I'm still voting with my ink-stained fingers and reading the print versions.  But it is getting pretty hard to take that thin daily dose of news with as much respect as I think the profession deserves.

Dating

I have a date tomorrow night.

But not with Husband.  Although he has a date, too.  And, for that matter, so does Big T.

Here's how it "always" happens:  each of us has a plan, but none coincide in a way that gives Husband and I a "real" date.  But it's all good.

First, I have a date with my three BFFs (best friends forever, which in our case is 35 years and counting).  Our fearless leader C graciously hosts us every year for a sleepover at her house. C has a fabulous home with spaceenough to sleep all four of us and plenty of room to spare.  We'll order Chinese food for dinner, talk way into the night (and if tradition holds, I'll be the first to drop off into slumberland while the others chat away), and rise on Saturday morning to a wonderful breakfast.  Husband knows I'll be home sometime that day... but don't count on me before noon!  Over the years, we have solved kid issues, work issues, relationship issues and "issues" issues.  These are the women I'm talking to when we are even old(er) and gray(er). They have saved my life and likely will again. I can only hope to do the same for them.

Next, Big T got the registration forms for his church camp retreat. Of course, it happens on exactly the same night.  So we'll be packing his duffel/sleeping bag/pillow tonight and I'll deliver him to church late tomorrow evening before continuing to C.'s house (see grownup girl sleepover item above). He gets back on Saturday afternoon.

Which left Husband odd man out. And men being men -- meaning it's not odd to call a friend you haven't seen in a year or more -- he arranged a dinner date with a high school friend.  They haven't been out together quite some time, but no matter. They'll have a good time catching up (over Mexican food, they hope), and Husband wants to show him a batch of photos from our trip to Vietnam.

So it's three dates all rolled into one evening.  It would have been nice for Big T's overnight away would have allowed for Husband and me to be on the same date, but then again...