Totally Gross Chicken and Rice

About a thousand years ago, when I was little, my grandma made the most amazing chicken and rice casserole. I loved it. My siblings loved it. We all gobbled it up and asked for more. The smell of chicken and rice still reminds me of grandma, and mom, and a happy childhood. It gives me all the "feels". Truth!

So when Army Guy and I first got married, chicken and rice was one of the dishes I used to make... a lot. Notice I said "used to"? It took about ten years for Army Guy to inform me he doesn't really like that chicken and rice recipe. GASP!!! What?!?!?!  

1. HOW could he not like the yummy-ness of my childhood; the smell that takes me back to a simpler time; the taste that reminds me of grandma; the food that tastes like "home"?
2. WHY did it take TEN YEARS to tell me this?  I believe his exact words were "I'd rather eat dirt!" You cut me deep, Army Guy.

I was bewildered and confused. I simply cannot accept that he doesn't like grandmas chicken and rice. But I put the recipe away none-the-less. Insert whiny, sad face here.

Last week I was chatting with my three siblings in a group text. My brother brought up chicken and rice and we all reminisced about the taste and the memories....ahhhh... it took me back. When I informed them I haven't had it for ten years because Army Guy hates it, they all had the sads for me and wondered aloud if he might be a communist...or something. In that moment I devised a plan to introduce my boys to grandma's chicken and rice. I plotted this dish's comeback with glee. My opportunity came last weekend when Army Guy was out of town. It was my chance to share my grandma with the boys and I was super excited.

I served the nectar of grandma's kitchen. It really is love in a 9x13 casserole pan. OhEmGee... SO GOOD!  I devoured it. The boys kinda, sorta said "meh", picked at the entree and ate their broccoli. The dog ate well!  Nifty!  AND THEN... I woke up to this text from Army Guy the next morning.

Et tu, Brute?

So I'm guessing everybody in my house is against me on this one, except the dog, of course. She's got my back!  And also...did Matthew actually think I wouldn't notice when the Domino's guy showed up at my door?  Really? 

It's pretty clear my family will not eat my favorite childhood meal ever again, so I have retired grandmas recipe forever. A small part of me has died. I'm not sure why this bothers me so much. My children have very different ideas about what IS and IS NOT gross (read all about that here). I mean, these are the people who have been known to eat nasty cookies found under the couch. Clearly their opinions are questionable.

As for the leftovers... yup, I rinsed the rice from the chicken, diced it up and put it in the freezer. That chicken will resurface as enchiladas next week. And the rice... well that's in the freezer too, but I'm not sure how I'll use it. Soup maybe?  This one thing I DO know: they WILL eat every bit of that chicken and rice.  EVERY LAST BIT! Mwahahaha!

Below is the recipe for the most offensive dish ever created. If you can find the nerve to try it (considering that only 1 in 5 people in my household will eat it) please let me know what you think.  I mean, is it possible I grew up on a completely vile dish? Could it be super gross and my siblings and I just lack awareness? Somebody please make this and get back to me. If you think it's gross too, my childhood will be shattered. Sometimes we need a person who can gently deliver the hard truth. This might be such an occasion. Please be kind and consider my tender heart, but let me have it. Is this gross?

TOTALLY GROSS CHICKEN AND RICE

Ingredients
Boneless, skinless chicken thighs (as many as you need)
2 cups white rice
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can cream of celery soup
1 envelope Lipton onion soup
2 cups water

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and spray a 9x13 baking dish with non-stick spray
Place chicken in pan
Combine rice, soups and water. Pour over chicken. 
Cover and bake for 1 hour.

This Day - I will Cherish

photo by Alex Jones on Unsplash

It's zero-dark-thirty in the morning. I'm up, barely functioning, and getting my new freshman off to school. We're a month into this insane early morning schedule. High School. This is where we are now, and it happened way too fast. 

I watch him walk toward the bus, all 6'4" of him. His stride is confident; he is owning this day. He's not nervous or anxious about high school. He is ready. I am not. It seems like yesterday I took him to kindergarten. Memories of that day churn within me as I fight back a tear. Mental photos flash in my mind - a slideshow of the moments I won’t forget. The three-year-old who was terrified of the smoke detector; the four-year old who said “Mom, you are awesome and I just want to hang out with you”; the kindergarten kid who was fascinated with the microphone during the Bible School program; and now the “big kid” who cares for and protects his brothers, and really, REALLY wants a Lamborghini. Where did the time go?

While I was busy writing a book about the preschool years, my children were growing and becoming incredibly cool people. And today, with my almost 15-year-old headed to high school, I am painfully aware that taking my son to college is in my near future. High school will be over in a nanosecond and then he will be gone from my home. And then one-by-one, they will all be gone. This is both the blessing and the curse of motherhood.

Many of you faced the "college good-bye" for the first time this month. You took your first born to college and then posted the photos on Facebook. Entire families, tears in their eyes, sharing a final moment before the family unit is no longer “complete”. Five becomes four. Soon they will be three. And then, in just a few short years, only two remain - the way it all began. Just seeing those photos made me cry. I could see both pain and pride on the mommy faces. It looked so hard. You were brave. How did you do it?

If we do a good job as parents, we will raise amazing and successful individuals. But before they can go do the things they were born to do, and be the people God created them to be, they must step out on their own. THAT is the most painful part about being a parent. Letting go. But what is the alternative? I certainly don't want a 36 year old living in my home and playing video games full time while he eats All.The.Food!  Letting go is difficult. Clearly not letting go would be problematic.  

And so, today my emotions are all over the place. This is the natural progression of parenting. We think raising preschoolers is so hard - and it is - but that is nothing compared to adjusting to life without them. Every parent before me knows this. It.Is.Hard.

For all the mommies out there who took their children young adults to college this month - I salute you. I don't know how you are walking around with any semblance of composure. I know your heart is breaking as you adjust to your new normal. I cry with you at the thought of this becoming my reality in just four short years.

So as he steps into his high school years, I resolve to do better, be better, love harder, and give more. I have this day to cherish. Tomorrow’s worries are for a future me who is better equipped to handle tomorrow’s pain. Today I will make a conscious effort to hold my children a little tighter and tell them I love them a few more times. Today I will strive to be in the moment, for all the moments I have left. The moments are precious - they are my treasures. I will not waste them. I will cherish this day.

*********************

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)

A Man Needs a Goal

"Mom, I want a Lamborghini!" My oldest son announced via text.  "If I can save $100,000 will you kick in the rest?"

KICK IN THE REST?!?!?!  Like...will I just waltz on down to the bank and withdraw $300,000 so my son can have his dream car? Sure, Skippy...I'll add that to my errands list for tomorrow.

Just for grins, here's the car he wants. Yes...Purple! He has a very healthy self-esteem. Also, he's a giant man-child, so I don't see anyone bullying him over his purple car.

Did I mention the child is 14?
Did I also mention that he doesn't have a driver's license?
...or a JOB? 

Correction: he does have a job. He makes an allowance of $25 a month. Additionally, he earns another $50 a month for mowing the lawn...when he decides to actually mow the lawn. Now I'm no mathematician, but I think it will take, roughly, 584 years to save $400,000 at his current rate of earning. I'm not even going to do the math, because I'm pretty sure I'm in the ball-park with this one. 

Out of sheer curiosity, I did a quick Google search on "Lamborghini Insurance".  

"The costs of insuring a Lamborghini start at around $500 to $600 per month, assuming you're driving a Lamborghini Aventador with a base price of around $200,000. Your annual premiums should range from $6000 to $7200. Of course,Lamborghini car insurance quotes vary widely depending on your demographic information." (hat tip: https://www.4autoinsurancequote.com › blog › lamborghini-insurance-cost)

"Insurance quotes vary widely depending on your demographic information". I think it's safe to assume an unlicensed 14-year-old male would be on the HIGH END of this sliding scale. Just a hunch. I'm just going to keep this bit of info to myself. $7,000+ a year is a tad steep for a guy who makes roughly $75 per month. And let's not even broach the subject of fuel at the moment. 

Oh... wait... hold on just one second. THIS JUST IN!

Can I, maybe, help with half?!?!  I'm going with "MAYBE!" (which my children know is mom speak for "NO!")  

So, that was good for a chuckle. But Y'all...then the texts started coming in fast and furious! The child is determined and he has a plan!

True story... I am NOT your basic billionaire builder when it comes to stocks. I am a total LOSER! I chose to invest in a company that actually went out of business three weeks after I invested. So... dude might want to seek advice elsewhere.

So, what kind of stocks does he want to buy?

The child wants to invest in TRUMP!  😂😂😂 Listen, when you stay in a Trump hotel, and it's so fancy your younger brother picks up a British accent, you might get the impression this would be a good investment. I mean... it's TRUMP! And he's, like, a billionaire, or something...right?  I didn't want to crush his dreams, but the Trump Corporation has lost about a billion dollars in the past 4 years. Politics is a nasty game. But I digress...

His next idea actually made me spew coffee! For real! Coffee...on my phone, on my shirt, up my nose... 

SONY HAS FULL OWNERSHIP OF SPIDER-MAN!!! So that must be an excellent investment...right?  

I think my game plan here is to just encourage this dream. Because saving is not a bad thing, right? At some point he will realize this dream is not grounded in reality. And when his dream is shattered, he'll at least have a great savings account for something else.  Win/win! Right?  I'm going with RIGHT!!! 😂

Look, a boy needs a goal. And I think it's never a bad idea to just dream big! 

#YouGottaHaveADream

#GoForItSon

#ItCouldHappen

#MyEvilPlanToGetHimToSaveForCollege

Vacations with Boys

We are making memories, I reminded myself, while trudging through the sticky, swampy, gnat infested Capitol Mall on our way to the Lincoln Memorial. We are providing an educational and cultural experience to enrich their lives, I thought. We are impressing upon them the blessings of their heritage. Do you know what else we were doing? We were providing the perfect scenario for them to whine me into an early grave.

I'll just get straight to the point...Vacations with boys are no vacation at all.

Let me be more precise. Vacations to historic places with teen/tween boys stink like the chicken skin I put in the trash under my sink...five days ago. (Note to self: have this week's trash boy do his job.) Vacations to Six Flags, Disney World, or any water park - anywhere, are SUPER FUN...for the kids. But yeah, still kinda stinks for the mama.

This summer we decided to introduce the boys to some culture and history, so we planned a vacation to Washington DC. Since they have all learned about American History in school, I was super excited to show them the monuments and take them to all the historical places they had studied. Army Guy and I loved it. We were moved by the WWII Memorial, which is incredibly stunning! Bravo memorial designer guy. Bravo!  

Another favorite was Mt. Vernon; the home of President George Washington. The museum at Mt. Vernon was actually better than the Smithsonian's Museum of American History (the section on the American Revolution, anyway). I absolutely love American History and I am in awe of historical places. But do you know who isn't such a fan of history and historical places?  The Ducklings. Sigh. Here is the background soundtrack to our vacation. (I'm not even kidding)

• How much more walking?
• It's hot.
• Can we get an electric scooter?
• I hate this.
• I don't want to see anymore monuments to dead guys.
• Can we get an electric scooter?
• I don't want to learn anymore.
• When can we go back to the hotel?
• Can we get an electric scooter?
• We should have brought the Xbox.
• How many more floors are in this museum?
• Why didn't we stay in a hotel with a pool?  (Answer: so you wouldn't spend every day doing what you can do at home while ignoring the rich history of this nation. You'll thank me one day.) 
• I want hamburgers for dinner (And lunch. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.)
• Why can't we get an electric scooter?
• Why doesn't Washington DC have a Whataburger?
• There are bugs in my face!
• Cemeteries are boring 
• Can we use an electric scooter in Arlington?

The list goes on. Let's just say, the Ducklings didn't really enjoy Washington DC, (except, of course, for the subway...they thought that was COOL!) I should make them write a paper for being so annoying. One day they will appreciate this experience and will want to go back. And then THEY CAN SPEND THEIR OWN DANG MONEY to repeat an experience they didn't appreciate in their teens. So...here's a big 'ol "WHATEV" to my kids. I say that with love.

After four agonizing wonderful days in Washington DC, we flew down to Columbia, SC where we got to visit our dear friends, the Long Family.  The boys finally got to swim, relax, watch movies and play video games. They were in heaven...and so was I because I got to hang with my sweet friend, Kelly. For six days all was right with the world.

So here are my lessons learned from our sticky, humid, July visit to DC:

• The pool really is important. Don't assume the sheer awesomeness of your 5-star hotel will in any way make up for the lack of a pool for the teenage people.
• Staying in a super fancy hotel will bring about a British accent in a thirteen-year-old boy. Who knew? Fancy digs = fancy speech...or something.
• Burgers every day will not kill you...but you might wish otherwise.
• Get the dang scooter.
• Traveling with an American-to-British translator is quite amusing.
• Hotel pizza delivery service is genius! So is a steak dinner for two at the uber fancy, and shockingly pricey, hotel steakhouse. WIN/WIN!
• It is fallacy to assume that visiting the Capitol Mall at night will be better because "it won't be so hot". 

1.     Every person in America will have the same idea. 

2.     Fourteen TRILLION gnats live in/about the area of the reflecting pool, and they come out at night. Why yes...walking into swarms of bugs in the dark was my ideal dream vacation. Pro tip: walk along the lighted path. The bugs will swarm near the street lights and not your face. 

3.     It is actually possible for the night to become more hot and sticky after the sun goes down. WHAT THE HECK IS THAT ABOUT?

All-in-all the Ducklings actually did have a great vacation. (Except for the museums, walking, humidity and gnats). Next time, however, I splurge on the stupid scooters. Wait…. NEXT TIME?

First Day. Not whiny...yet! 

Second Day: This photo pretty much sums up the entire trip! 

And also... why DOESN'T Washington DC have a Whataburger? Valid question, my son!

That Time I Realized My Thirteen-Year-Old Was 6'2"

Photo by Chen Hu on Unsplash

Dear Mommies of the tall children, I need your input. If you have adult children who are extremely tall, please help me navigate this tall-baby season of life. Here's what's going down in my world...

One day my baby boy was a precious bundle of cuteness and love. Fast forward two months (I swear) and this same child is one giant, freakishly tall, man-child. Oh, and he's only thirteen. Y‘all...last year I had an anxiety attack when I realized the child and I were the same height. (I'm 5'10. Well I was 5'10" in high school anyway. The jury is still out on what three decades and gravity might have done to my height. But, I was once 5'10" and, lacking any concrete data to suggest otherwise, I'm just going with that.) But I digress. So one year ago, when he was twelve, we were the same height. That means my child has grown four inches in one year. This gives me all the feelings, none of which I am prepared to face at this time.

This boy/teen/giant-man-child is exactly the same height, size, and weight that his dad was when we got married. So I am not exaggerating at all when I say that my “boy” is the size of a large thirty-year-old man...except with a baby face. This gives me hives.

Putting my feelings aside for a moment, I'd like to focus on the practical. Like, I have questions y‘all! Serious questions! Here they are in no particular order.

1. If the child is 6'2 at the ripe old age of thirteen, what might his expected "adult height" be? Are we talking 7'9" or will this massive growth spurt settle down into something a little more manageable?

2. Should I ditch the idea of ever buying pants and just make him wear shorts until he is 21?  I mean, the purchase of pants, at this point, seems rather counter-productive.

3. Should I just buy stock in Levi's and maybe get on an auto-ship program that sends pants in a new length each month? Does Levi's have an auto-ship program? Why not? That's a genius marketing concept!

4. Why hasn't the junior high basketball coach been all over this child like stink on a skunk? I mean... he's a full foot taller than all the other 7th grade boys. That alone would strike fear into the heart of every other junior high basketball coach in the league. He doesn't even need amazing athletic ability. He could just stand there and be the rebound king. (It worked for Shaquille O'Neil... amiright?)

5. Why does this child have zero interest in basketball? It seems a waste of a God-given blessing to not use this height to his fullest advantage. Clearly he doesn't know our retirement portfolio has included the letters N, B, and A since our two-year-old was mistaken for a first grader.

6. The child wears a size 12 shoe. When will his feet stop growing? Will he end up in a size 17? Does Nike even make a size 17? Does his future involve roaming the streets barefoot, due to the lack of proper footwear? Where does Shaquille get his shoes? Will I have to sell a kidney for those enormous sneakers? 

7. What will this growth do to my grocery bill?  In your experience, is there some sort of formula for the amount of food this child will require?  "X" pounds of food, per inch, per month... or something? 

8. Does Kroger have a payment plan or could we maybe work something out? "Hello Kroger, I'd like to put 400 steaks and 84 gallons of milk on layaway. Thanks!"

9. Will there ever be a second, (other than between the hours of midnight and 5:00am) in which this child will not be "starving"?

10. Will he even fit into his college dorm room bunk bed? If not, will he just sleep in a park (in shorts and without shoes) because he needs wide open space to accommodate his giant-ness? What would that do to his social life?

These are the things that keep me up at 3:00am. (Well, that and an energy drink consumed at 7:30pm) So, all you mommies of the fully grown tall people, help a sista out. Any input you can provide is greatly appreciated. 

Update on the "Chopped" Situation

The ongoing cooking show in our home descended to a whole new level of low. First, if you haven't read about my life as a reality show "chef", you should probably wander on over to that post first. Then come on back and join us for the update.

So Thursday's dinner went horrifically wrong...on so many levels. The short version involves spoiled chicken breasts, moldy French bread, and one "chef" who forgot to buy pasta. This is perplexing since I shop every Monday for exactly what I need each week. How could my chicken and bread have gone bad so quickly?  Anyway...my dinner became an offering of a lovely tequila-lime cream sauce and Caesar salad. Now, I could have just re-named it "tequila-lime soup" and called it a day. I mean I am trying to get kicked off the show, am I not? Instead I asked Army Guy to pick up Chinese food and made a mental note to buy what I needed so we could enjoy our cream sauce with chicken and pasta the next day. WINNER of a plan .

Army Guy set the take-out containers on the table and then the "show" began.

Photo by Noahs Knight on Unsplash

Daniel:  "Chef Mom, what have you prepared for us tonight?"

Me: "Chef, tonight, instead of preparing dinner, I have instructed your father to procure dinner from our favorite Asian inspired establishment. Daddy, will you please present what you have selected."

Army Guy:  "Tonight we have a medley of Chinese dishes..."

Daniel cut Army Guy off, "I'm sorry, I was talking to Chef Mom, it's not your turn."

Me: "Chef tonight we have Lo Mein Noodles with shrimp in addition to Mongolian Beef and Orange Chicken."

Me (thinking) He HAS to kick me off tonight...I didn't do anything. This is my out.

Daniel: "Though this dinner is quite delicious, you really didn't do anything worthy of the title of MasterChef."

Me: (thinking) YES! Here it comes, so long KP duty.

And then...I made the rooky mistake of thinking out loud. "Oh look...my fortune cookie doesn't have a fortune inside...sad!"

Matthew: "You have just selected the mystery cookie, which means...tonight is a non-elimination round".

Yep...I had my out, and I found a way to mess it up.  I saw my exit and was ready to skip right through that door singing "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah" all the way to freedom-from-the-kitchen bliss. Then I opened my idiot mouth and gave my family a reason to keep me chained to the stove for the rest of my life. Indeed I am an idiot sandwich!

via GIPHY

Clearly I should have shut my mouth and just served the dang tequila-lime soup. For real!

I Just Can't Get "Chopped"!

Photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash

Cooking competition shows are quite popular in our home. The boys love Chopped, MasterChef, and The Great British Baking Show. The Netflix original, "Nailed It", was also a huge hit! We highly recommend this one if you want to full on laugh out loud.

Anyway, the boys have learned a few things from these shows, the least of which is how to prepare actual food. Rather, they have learned how to properly critique food…my food, to be exact. So now I live (and cook) in this crazy reality where I am in a competition every dang night. It doesn't matter what I serve, the boys give me their best Gordon Ramsey treatment over the dish. 

Dinner at our house on any given night

Me:  "Family, today I have prepared for you a delightful casserole of layered pasta and bolognese with mozzarella, parmesan and ricotta cheeses. On the side we have a toasted Parisian bread which has been lightly buttered and sprinkled with garlic and herbs."

Matthew: Takes a heaping fork-full of my food, bringing it to his face for a super close inspection. He sniffs, stares at me over the fork, and takes a bite, being careful not to let his lips actually touch the fork. He glares right through me, guarding his expression so his face gives no clue of his reaction. "Interesting". 

Daniel: Suggests that the dish is good but could use a tad more salt. 

Andrew: Comments on how the bread has really overshadowed the dish.  "Your lasagna should be the star here...not the bread." 

Gleefully I think, this is IT! Tonight I will FINALLY be cut from this nightmare! No more cooking for me... WHOOOP!  

Army Guy: Looks straight at me and delivers the verdict.  "You did enough to make it through to the next episode." Hanging my head in defeat, I receive the "sentence" like some sorry defendant on trial for murder. Secretly I plot my next meal, which I will prepare with less "gusto" and more "half-ass-ery". Yes, I think, they will chop me for sure tomorrow. I plotted my defeat with enthusiasm.

The next night was my perfect opportunity to finally be chopped. I didn't get home until 6:30 and decided I didn’t really have time to make chicken tacos after all...so I called, “free-for-all...come and get it! Everyone choose whatever leftover you want." Daniel and I had Monday's pork chops while Matthew selected just mashed potatoes and Army Guy made a bowl of ramen noodles. Certainly I will get chopped tonight. There is NO WAY Gordon Ramsey would allow me to continue after an offering of reheated food from Monday... for the love of muffins!

Internally I am super excited because I know there is no way they can find an excuse to keep me this time. Certainly tonight is my final night in the kitchen... I HAVE DONE IT!  With a stoic expression, Daniel delivers the decision, "You will...... NOT.... be leaving us tonight." He looks at the empty space next to me and says "I'm sorry Invisible Jimmy, you have been chopped!"

"SERIOUSLY! I REHEATED LEFTOVERS!" I exclaimed, "Why does Invisible Jimmy get to leave the show?" Without skipping a beat, Daniel announces, “Tonight's secret theme was leftovers!"

I am beginning to think this whole show is rigged!

Throw Down on the Four Square Court

We have a serious issue in this household. It seems that three out of three children in this family hold the prestigious title of "King of the Four Square Court" at school. Of course this is problematic. They can't all be king, especially since they have parents who were both the King/Queen of the Four Square Court in their day. (Incidentally, their mother was also "Queen of Tetherball". Yes, this is a lifelong title and yes, I do get to claim it at my age.) #greatnessisageless

There was only one way to settle the issue...purchase a red rubber ball and host a family Four Square Tournament. GAME ON!

It was a lively game full of surprises and "new rules". Army Guy and I were stunned at some of the rules and moves these younger whipper-snappers have created. I'm just gonna come out and say it... these little brats have bastardized the game. No...this is not an exaggeration. They have forever altered Four Square to resemble something more like Dodgeball on a tiny four square court. #kidsthesedays

Hey... here's an example of what I'm talk'n ‘bout here:

1) CHERRY BOMBING:  This is when an opponent grabs the ball and slams it into your square. No...this isn’t a "spike" like in volleyball. It’s more of a holding and slamming kind of move. "I'm sorry, but you can't HOLD THE BALL in Four Square", I proclaimed. Army Guy and I deemed this an illegal move.

2) TINY TIMMY: When an opponent holds the ball and runs over to your square and drops it just over the line from a height of about 6 inches. I rolled my eyes and promptly yelled "ILLEGAL MOVE!" #fortheloveofmuffins  

3) QUADRUPLE TAPS: When a player is allowed to touch the ball up to four times while it is in play in his square. This allows the player to juggle and maneuver the ball. He can also set up a spike, like in volleyball, only he sets and slams the ball himself. "ILLEGAL MOVE!" #areyoukiddingmewiththis?

This kind of made-up-crap went on and on and on. After about fifteen minutes of this nonsense, Army Guy called "Retro Rules". We took the game back to the 70's y'all... and we meant business. We schooled these youngins on the proper way to play and we set them straight. #priorities #raisingthemright

I am pleased to announce that Army Guy is still King of the Court…and I am Queen. Of course three boys would argue that it's because we played by "old dude rules". Whatever helps you sleep, son. #oldschoolrocks 

For those interested, The official Four Square Rules are listed here. Incidently, Cherry Bombing is generally frowned upon by all Wikipedia commenters. #thatsright #vindicatedbywiki