Soup Is Not A Finger Food

Thirteen

YESTERDAY WAS The Boss's thirteenth birthday and WHAM, just like that, now I have TWO TEENAGERS living in my house. And yet, even though he's got a peach-fuzz mustache and his voice is deepening, I can't help but remember him when he was all

and all

And then a few years later, he was all

The Boss was born just three days after my birthday, which means that in 1998, I kinda stopped having birthdays. Which is cool, because I was 31 on the day he was born and I'd be okay if I could just continue to celebrate the anniversaries of the day I turned 31 instead of the day I was born, back in the Gay Nineties  heyday of the rotary dial telephone  the Sixties.

But the darndest thing with kids - they grow up. You can cuddle and coddle and try to squoosh them down and keep them from growing, but soon they're looking you square in the eye and articulating keen observations and you can start to see the grown-up they'll soon be.

...but at thirteen, they're still young enough to be a kid.

Even though they all look like me (Curt has been known to refer to them as "Meg, Megger and Meggest"), each of my boys has a unique personality. It's fun to observe them as they mature. Sometimes I wish for the days when they were cuddly babies or chubby toddlers. Things were easier then. But The Boss has been such a joy to parent.

Recently, he and I found ourselves alone at the house on a lazy Sunday. I tried to interest him in getting out of the house. "Let's go buy you that new pair of sneakers you need," I prodded. "Or how about we go see a movie? Just us two!" He hemmed and hawed and hesitated. "Oh, c'mon," I urged. "Let's!!"

"Uh, it would be kinda embarassing if my friends saw me at a movie with my mom, Mom."

He didn't mean to crush my maternal heart or to drop-kick my spirit, but that comment was such a kick in the gut. And despite my futile protests ("It isn't unusual for a kid your age to be seen in public with your parent from time to time"), I totally understood where he was coming from. My boys don't believe it, but I DO remember what it was like to be thirteen. It wasn't all that long ago, really. I know what it feels like to wrestle with your feelings for your parents, to try and achieve independence. 

We celebrated his big day in the way that has become our tradition: Dinner out at Sakura, a Japanese steak house. We love the hibachi, the goofy show the chef provides as he whips up fried rice and sears steak and seafood and veggies. And he's my kid, too, in that he could take or leave cake. It was a good night.

Boss, we love you so much and are so proud of the young man you've become. I'm so glad I get to be your mom!

Mixed Feelings

I AM ALL ALONE in my too-quiet house and it feels... wierd.

Summer, while it brings a welcome respite from the frantic pace of the school year, becomes for us a patchwork of camps, trips, and path-of-least-resistance parenting as we attempt to juggle boys with free time and our work schedules. When they were younger, my older boys eagerly went to camps. Now they'd rather hang out, visit friends, do whatever.

Now that Peezer is school-aged, he's enjoying day camp this year.  But ten whole weeks of camp are expensive! And Peezer's main camp was closed last week for the July 4 holiday, and doesn't run the last two weeks of August. So there are holes in the coverage that need to be filled with trips or other elaborate arrangements.

Last week we vacationed at Dewey Beach. The end of next week we're taking a quick jaunt to South Carolina - I'll tell you about that one later. Otherwise, we do have to WORK and all, so we end up sending the kids elsewhere for short stretches to break up the daily monotony of sleeping in / non-stop XBox / TV / ramen noodle lunches.

Peezer and The Boss left Sunday for a week with family in PA, and I just put Seth and our niece (who is the same age as Seth) on a plane bound for Houston where they will hang out with cousins for a whole week!

(Dear Houston, please accept my apologies in advance for any bad behavior - I'm sure it was an accident! - and just send me a bill for the damage. Many Thanks!)

And not counting the dogs, who will need a walk soon, and work, which I must get back to in a moment, there is no one depending on me for anything.  No lunches to pack, no sunscreen to apply, no fights to referee, messes to clean up, children to nag to bathe / clean up their socks / chip bags / cups / soda cans / popsicle sticks. No iCarly or Spongebob Squarepants to tune out. No wet towels to peel off the floor. No frantic drop-off or pick-up deadlines, no therapy appointments to hurry to, no one to remind to take their medicine, no playdates to arrange, no trips to the pool (well, maybe we'll go - that might be fun, to be there and not have to wonder if our kids are safely buoyant)...

I hear a lawn mower outside and have a fan blowing but otherwise?

Shhhh. It's veeerrrrrry quiet.

And right now, I like it.

It'll be this way until Saturday or Sunday, when the younger two return. The teenagers fly back next Tuesday.

Yet as much as I need this break, this reset, it feels rather strange. I'm feeling aimless. Marginal. Because this week? I can make some decisions without regard to how it impacts the kids.

Of course, there is the dog to consider. 

Anyone want a dog? Because even though the kids are gone, I still have to combat the dog-hair tumbleweeds.

See? I'm not getting off entirely without obligations.

It's good for the kids to get away: Good for them and good for us. And as happy as I am to have a few selfish days to myself, I have to say, I'll be really happy to see them when they return.

 

Match Game

THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU COULD INFER when I tell you that I discovered one orange and black Halloween-themed sock in our giant, overflowing basket o' socks last night.  The first is- obviously - why is she wearing Halloween socks in March?

What, that isn't what you were thinking? Oh, I see. Now you're counting on your fingers to figure out how many months it been since I had made time to conduct the tedious, semi-annual exercise we call "Matching the Socks."  And yes, you're right - it has been That Long.

I'd blame it on the fire, but honestly, your first hunch was correct. I haven't worn Halloween socks since December October.

After three hours thirty minutes, I came up with approximately 72 pairs of socks for Peezer, almost that many for Soup Husband Curt, 12 for The Boss, and four for me. Because I try to match mine as I go, rather than waiting for pigs to fly the socks to match themselves. And Seth? I came up with an impressive array of orphaned socks, whose mates I suspect are under his bed or commingled with the mountain of clothing (clean? dirty? who knows? who cares?) that covers his bedroom floor.

The real score, though, was that I found my favorite umbrella at the bottom of the basket! Sure could have used it Sunday when it was raining buckets. But now, at least I'll be ready for tomorrow's rain.

Did someone say RAIN? Here's an old favorite - this song sticks in my head every time it rains. Sing along!

Excuse me, is that meat sauce or poison on your pasta?

EVENINGS CHEZ SOUP are when I amp up my mad multitasking skillz. Curt and I, we set up our two-on-three zone defense and usually manage to cover it all. Last night, however, something slipped through the cracks and my admission on Facebook today caused a flurry of input.

 Here’s how it went down:

I rolled into the house, at 6:20, my arms full of groceries and three bottles of my new favorite wine (the Chilean Malbec by Alamos – and it was on sale!).  While I was freezer-diving, looking for cheese and pepperoni to make pizza for dinner, I spied two pounds of ground beef that could be easily turned into a nice Italian meat sauce, for use in lasagna this weekend.

In between responding to requests from Peezer for juice (okay), ice cream (not before dinner), and electronic diversions (can I play your iTouch?), I was whipping up pizza and defrosting ground beef. Got the pizza in the oven, started browning the ground beef on the stove, poured a glass of Malbec. Curt arrived home with a huge bag of dog food AND our repaired vacuum cleaner, suited up and tagged into the game.

 
Photo borrowed from this site 

At that point it I realized that Seth, who should have been longboarding home from his friend’s house, was not yet home. I threw the tomato sauce and seasonings into the ground beef, checked on the pizza, and texted:

ME “Where R U?”

HIM “Still at Baileys”

ME “U were sposed 2 B home, stay there, we’ll come get U”

HIM “hahahahaha ok”

ME “NOT FUNNY, Dad will be there in 5”

I dispatched the taxi Curt to fetch the teenager, pulled the pizza out of the oven, stirred the meat sauce, pried the other two boys away from their video games and started serving up dinner. Seth and Curt rolled in and of course we had to explain about how it’s common courtesy to inform YOUR PARENTS that your plans have changed and he said Uh. Okay. My bad.  Only then did he remember that he left his backpack at Soroush’s house on the way to Bailey’s and could he just board over and get it?

IN THE DARK? ARE YOU KIDDING??

So, I stirred the sauce again and turned the burner way down and drove Seth over to pick up his backpack. By the time we got home, Curt was herding Peezer into the bathtub and preparing to help him with his homework… then I remembered I had to follow up on a couple of work things, so I turned off the burner, leaving the sauce to cool, and logged into my laptop. Curt read books to Peezer and tucked him into bed – finally – and then he set out to begin The First Day of His New Exercise Regimen because he and some friends have registered for some crazy 5K at the end of May.

I know, right??

It was about this time I decided I was tired, so I washed my face and brushed my teeth and collapsed into bed and when Curt returned, the news was on and I fell asleep and slept the sleep of the dead.

This morning, when I went out to pour my first cup of coffee, I realized I NEVER PUT THE SAUCE AWAY! I left it, covered, on the stove, in its pan, all night.

DAMMIT. That was two pounds of ground beef and some other stuff and it really tasted gooood! I sniffed it: Seemed okay. I asked Curt what he thought. “Meh, should be fine,” he said, as he and Seth rushed out the door. Because the Merry-Go-Round just never stops around here!

 
Thanks to Freefoto for this picture

I decided to consult the Interwebs, which of course means Facebook. Lots of friends chimed in, most of them with the same response as Curt. Apparently, you people do this all the time and no harm has ever come to you! You cavalier, risk-taking kids you. Four friends urged me to chuck it – or at least feed it to the dog (but wouldn’t the dog get sick if it’s contaminated?). Two of those quoted food industry sources.

My sister – hi, Bets! – who falls waaay to the right on the caution spectrum when it comes to these things, urged me to stop being insane. The others, though, posted variations on a theme: Recook it, it’ll kill the bacteria. Or add more wine. If the meat was cooked, it’ll be okay. The tomatoes are acidic, they’re not friendly to bacteria. And one noted that in Costa Rica, cooks leave things out overnight all the time, to improve the flavor.

The crux of my concern is this. I’m reluctant to waste two pounds of ground beef and what turned out to be a really tasty sauce. If it were just my immediate family, I’d probably not think twice, but I was going to serve it to friends… none of whom are in a high-risk group for susceptibility to bacteria, but still. I get that bacteria is more likely to breed when food is kept at a certain temperature, but really, what are the odds? Are they on par with, say, being struck by lightning, or higher, such as choosing the slowest checkout line at the grocery store?

And I know it sounds terribly cheap of me to not want to throw it away. But hey – money’s money. And besides – it was a really good batch of sauce.

At this point, I had to post one more follow-up question to the FB peanut gallery:

Further to this morning's food safety question: I want to hear one story about you or someone you personally know, who ate food not stored to the FDA's guidelines and got horribly, violently sick. I"m seeing lots of "could" and "might" - how about some "did"?

 

Many said, nope. Some told me to shut up about it already volunteered to eat the sauce for me. One posted a horror story about a party and some food and three people almost immediately becoming violently ill. My sister, who at this point must have been afraid I’d poison my family and our friends, leaving us all to die a slow, horrible death, laughed and said, how would you know whether it was food that made you sick or a random “stomach bug” of some kind? And someone else shared advice that most “random stomach bugs” do come from foodborne bacteria.

But then my sister shared this link http://www.vdacs.virginia.gov/foodsafety/poisoning.shtml which identifies actual food poisioning causes. Together, we figure the most likely risk would be from CLOSTRIDIUM PERFRINGENS, more commonly called the "Buffet germ" that grows rapidly in large portions of food that cool slowly. However, the resulting illness is mild:  diarrhea, gas pains, nausea, and sometimes vomiting lasting only a day.

Well, heck, that doesn't seem so bad, does it? 

And YES, I could have spent my time Googling instead of Facebooking, but isn’t it more fun to get your friends’ first-person input before you look it up? Of course it is. But it’s nice to have a legitimate resource in addition to anecdotal snippets.

Now I’m thinking it really is probably okay to keep the sauce. But, at my sister’s wise suggestion, I will probably compromise, keeping last night’s batch for a time when it’s just my family, and making a fresh batch for the weekend... and I promise, I will be vigilant about storing it right after I cook it!

 

Expecting the unexpected

BECAUSE I’M MARRIED TO A SERIOUS SPORTS FAN, I’m accustomed to checking sports schedules before I schedule anything for the family. I dutifully verified that gametime for the Steelers / Ravens NFL playoff game was 4:30 pm on Saturday before I booked Peezer’s birthday party for an earlier time slot the same day.

(The fact that I even thought to do this is something Curt takes for granted. Not all wives would. He has trained me well.)

And I was feeling like a Very Good Wife, until Curt’s friend offered him four face-value tickets to see the game IN PITTSBURGH. Curt, bless him, hesitated, on account of it being the same day as Peezer’s birthday party. But here’s the thing with the Steelers and their rabid fans. Face-value tickets don’t come along that often. And here was a chance for Curt to impress the socks right off of Seth and The Boss. Oh, sure, they’ve been to regular-season NFL games and to Big Ten football at Penn State. But the playoffs? Our favorite team?

So it was in the spirit of teamwork that I offered to “take one for the team” and agreed to host the birthday party solo while Curt took Peezer’s older brothers to Mecca Heinz Field.

Now, we haven’t hosted a birthday party outside of our home in all the years we’ve been parents. But this year, I finally decided there was a certain wisdom in throwing money at this particular issue. I booked the party and decided to let someone else clean up the mess.

And I didn’t necessarily think it would be a big deal. A few kids, some cake – how hard could it be? Last year, I invited his entire class to our home for his party. Out of 22 some invitations, we had only seven RSVPs, and of those, six kids attended. It was a manageable size for a group of five year olds, but I was dismayed by the lack of responses.

Fully expecting the same thing this year, I encouraged Eli to invite lots of kids, so as to hedge our bets. We mailed 23 invitations. Imagine how surprised we were when every single guest replied and only one said they could not attend!

Me + 23 kindergarteners + a frenzied party venue, teeming with hyperactive children? When I confirmed the party details, I asked if I could tack on a box of wine for an additional charge. Alas, it would be up to me to get through the party without crutches.

The kids had a blast bouncing on the inflatables. Plus, sensing my desperation, more than a few parents stuck around, so I had extra arms to assist me with my hosting duties.

Something else extra that I hadn’t counted on, though? Extra party guests! Three parents brought extra siblings. One let me know ahead of time. Two didn’t. And I might not even have noticed except that (for fear of losing someone) I put name tags on all the kids. Then I noticed one I didn’t recognize. “Who’s that?” I asked a nearby parent.

“Oh,” she said, smiling, “That’s Emily.”

Thinking I’d totally missed something, I asked, “Who’s Emily? We didn’t invite an Emily…”

“Oh, no, that’s Mary’s sister,” she said. “I brought her along.” So, I informed her – and the other two parents – that there was a maximum number of jumpers allowed on the inflatables, and that with all our invited guests, we had exactly that many, so if the referees decided to enforce the limit, I’d have to ask their extra child to get off the inflatables.

And you’d think that would have been enough of a hint, but you would be wrong. As we transitioned to the party room for refreshments, all three of the extra kids all bellied up to the table, and we ran out of chairs and chips and cups, because there were exactly enough place settings for the invited guests. The “referees” were cool about it- they brought in extras of everything. And charged me, naturally.

And you would think THAT would have been hint enough, too, but again, you’d be wrong, because two of the three extra guests actually held out their hands for the goodie-bag giveaway at the end of the party! Luckily, I had exactly two extras, because what kind of ogre says to a doe-eyed three year old, sorry, Susie, no candy for you!?

Despite those minor curveballs, it was a fun party – Peezer loved every minute of it. We toted his gifts home and opened them and this week we will be mass-producing thank you notes. Mostly, though, I was touched that this room full of kids was there to celebrate my kid’s birthday. It was loud, chaotic, and crazy – but it was a big ole’ party, and Peezer was thrilled.

I may have scored bonus points for “letting” Curt take the boys to the football game, but I like to think I scored far more meaningful points with my youngest son.

 

 

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