French Fries!

Today was one of those days where it was just easier to stay out and about and go out to lunch and then continue errands, rather than schlep everyone home for lunch and then convince them to go back out again.  (I've tried that before - it almost always leads to heartache and sorrow.)

I picked up Tess and Cole from preschool and let them choose where we went to eat, because I knew they'd behave better that way.  Is that giving in or spoiling kids?  I don't think so.  If I REALLY cared about where we ate, then I'd probably push the issue.  But this battle?  Not worth fighting.

Anyways.

We went to the Burger King down on 350S (or Veteran's Memorial Hwy, for you noobs), which I do about twice a year - and am always disappointed.  (The management there has been TERRIBLE in the past!)  ((This time?  Not so bad!  Although they did run out of ice.  Who does that?!))

As we stood in line trying to decide what to eat, Cole was adamant that all he wanted to eat was french fries.  No burgers.  No chicken nuggets.  Just french fries.  And after a few minutes of trying to convince him to eat something in addition to fries, I had an epiphany: Who Cares?  We're at a fast food joint, for Pete's sake. Nutrition is not really a concern here.  Will it really be any better for him if he eats a burger or nuggets in addition to his fries?  No.  And would he really eat anything else if I forced it on him?  Definitely no. Is this worth a battle that will spill over into the errands we had to run after lunch?  NO NO NO.

So I bought him a large fry and a small drink and then let him go wild with the Coke Freestyle machine. (He chose a lovely grape/strawberry/peach Sprite concoction.  Yum.)

And he was a happy boy.

And I was a happy mom.

Sometimes I feel like I'm finally getting this whole mothering business.

Sunday Afternoon Punk

There's nothing better than a Sunday afternoon nap, amiright?

So this afternoon I went upstairs to take a nap.  Tess had been bugging me to get her some jelly beans (her latest bribe for pooping in the potty), but refused to come upstairs to get them.  So I went into my bedroom and closed the door, figuring she wasn't really serious about wanting them if she wasn't willing to come upstairs.

How wrong I was.

I read for probably 20 minutes and then fell asleep.  I have taken to napping (when I actually get to nap) with a pillow on my head.  It seems to deter children from really bothering me; it's like a little face fort that they can't seem to get around.  But not this time.  Probably 20 minutes later Tess came upstairs, demanding her jelly beans.  (Or, as she calls them, her "jolly beans".)

First she came in and whispered to me.  I ignored her.  Then she started yelling.  I ignored her.  Then she started crying.  I politely told her that she could have her jelly beans after my nap, and please go away.

So then she got reinforcements.  Next thing I know Cole is in my room whining for jelly beans, too.  I ignore them for a while, but after a good 5 minutes I yell at both of them to get out of my room, no jelly beans for anyone!!

Cole leaves.  Tess does not.

I drift off to sleep again.

Tess climbs onto our bed.  She whines for jelly beans.  She kicks the headboard.  She kicks me (although I think this is accidental).  I tell her to be quiet and go to sleep, never thinking in a million years that she will go to sleep and knowing, deep in my bones, that I'm not going to get back to sleep, either.

Tess lays down and is asleep within 47 seconds.

So Tess gets the Sunday nap and I don't.  Tess is a punk.  But she's a much more tolerable punk while napping.

Life With Kids

Life with kids means finding holes in the sheets of your bed. That you know you did NOT make. And crumbs to go along with that hole. That you know you did NOT put there.

Growl.

Speed Limit

Yesterday in the car Tess decided she wanted to drive. After a polite conversation about having to be able to reach the steering wheel and the pedals at the same time - a complication she thought deserved little attention - she finally agreed that she couldn't drive until she was 16.

Then somehow, I'm still not quite sure how, Cole got it into his head that the older you were the faster you got to drive. Tess quickly agreed that this was a brilliant idea.

Is it weird that for just a moment I thought this was a pretty great idea?

This moment quickly passed when Cole started yelling that I was only 14 and needed to "slow down". (We were only going 25 in the neighborhood.)

Cole totally knows how old I am; he tells friends, family, and total strangers this information on a weekly basis. So I have no idea why I was suddenly relegated back to being only 14. Cole could give me no reason; Tess just laughed.

Can I just say that if I had to choose an age to go back to it would most definitely NOT be 14? Even though that's the age Lance and I first met, no thanks. Talk about awkwardness and insecurity and all the other fun that comes from those early teen years. Yeah, I had that in spades.

So, sorry, Cole. I think I'll stick with 37. I like to drive fast anyways.

Sleeping Princess

Preschool really does wear this girl out.

But of course she refuses to take a nap... until around 5pm or so, and then it's a fight to keep her awake.  So today I laid her head on my lap and rubbed her head until she fell asleep - it took about 48 seconds, she was so tired.  I was stuck for a while, but then channeling my inner Indiana Jones I was able to slip a pillow under her head and remove my lap.

Like her blanket of choice? It's an old scarf of mine. She calls it her "Princess Blanky", I think because of the fringe.

Those cheeks and lips are so darn cute - especially when she's asleep!  It makes me kinda sad to think she'll probably lose most of her chubbiness in the next year. (If she follows the pattern of her brothers.)

See the stamp on her hand?  She's waited MONTHS to get stamps on her hands from preschool.  She is ECSTATIC to be able to get her own stamps!

Well, her older brothers will come crashing through the front door in about 5 minutes, meaning the sleeping princess only has that much left to sleep.  Hopefully she doesn't wake up an angry bear.

A Little Mormon Girl...

A little Mormon girl walks to her Methodist preschool and says "T!  I see the letter T!  Look!  Another one!  Lots of Ts!!"

And it takes a few moments for her distracted Momma to realize she's not pointing out Ts, but, rather, crosses.

And then it takes a few moments more to explain the difference.

And the little Mormon girl doesn't believe her Momma.  So Momma gives up and blogs about it instead.

Breakfast Sausage Apple Pie

I'm pretty sure that every family has an infamous, guilty-pleasure-riddled meal that they enjoy every once in a while.  A meal that is so bad for you, so laden with fat and calories, so lacking in any nutritional value, but so loaded in yummy goodness flavor-wise that you just can't bring yourself not to make it every once in a while.

Breakfast Sausage Apple Pie is that meal for the Madsens.  (Well, for Lance and I.  I can't speak for the children because every time I serve it a different child decides they don't like it.  They are then teased and ridiculed mercilessly because this stuff is good.)

For my wedding I received a cookbook titled "The Best Recipes from the Backs of Boxes, Bottles, Cans and Jars".  In addition to the fact that the title does not use the Oxford Comma (a definite pet peeve of mine), it also had no pictures of the recipes inside, making it very hard for me to want try any of them.  Does anyone else have that problem?  If there's no picture, there's a 90% chance I won't be making that recipe.

Anywho, I was tired of all of my other cookbooks (this was before food blogging got big so there wasn't much out there) ((I know, I'm ancient)) and decided to flip through this particular book.  A phrase along the lines of "Pie for breakfast?! Yes!!" caught my eye and I read the recipe.

At first glance I thought "Erlack.  No thanks."  And then started to look at other recipes.

But I kept thinking about it.  I went back and thought "No way.  I cannot make this for dinner!  We'd die of heart attacks!" (I honestly cannot remember the first time I made it - it was either before Spencer was born or just after.  Definitely before Josh's time.  I think...)

But I kept thinking about it. And I knew Lance would love it.  And I thought I would love it, too.

So I made it.  And we didn't die of heart attacks.  Instead, we fell in love with a deliciously sinful dinner that I can only bring myself to make once or twice a year.

Even though we're not really into fall yet, the weather was such this  morning (grey, drizzly) that it kind of felt like fall.  And then I saw the frozen apple pie filling in the freezer.  And realized I had sausage in the fridge (a rare thing).  And knew it was time to grace our table once again with its heart-stopping goodness.

The cookbook is long gone from our home, but I still have the recipe in my own cookbook.  I must note that I know I have tweaked the recipe just a little, but I can't remember how.  Sorry, original cookbook chefs.

BREAKFAST SAUSAGE APPLE PIE

1# pork sausage

2 packages Jiffy pie mix

1# homemade apple pie filling

Several slices American cheese 

1/2 C packed brown sugar

1. Preheat oven to 400.
2. Cook sausage and drain.
3. Mix 1/2 of the pie crust mix and prepare for pie pan. Prick and bake for 8 minutes.
4. Reduce heat to 375.
5. Pour apples into crust.  Top with sausage, then cheese.
6. Mix remaining crust with brown sugar, sprinkle on top of cheese.
7. Bake 25-35 minutes until crust is brown.

First you have to do the bottom crust.  Notice that I don't even bother rolling out the dough.  And I use a deep-dish pie pan.  I've just found that this recipe is better with the less work you put into it!

Then the apple pie filling.  I make 2-3 batches of apple pie filling each year and then stick 'em in the freezer.  It works great.  (I use the Joy of Cooking recipe, in case you're wondering.  It's never let me down.  Also, if I can ever get a decent crop of Granny Smith's off of my tree, my pie filling will be SPECTACULAR I tell you!  Dang storms and birds and whatnot destroying my crop... growl growl...)

The the sausage.  I think I may have overcooked the sausage just a tad this time; it was kinda dry and extra salty.  Sad. (But still delicious overall.)

Then the cheese.  I know.  I KNOW.  I am not a fan of American cheese - except sometimes in grilled cheese sandwiches and in this pie.  It is delicious.  I am pretty sure a sharp cheddar would take it to a whole other level, but then Lance would be very sad.  And he's one of the main reasons why I make this dish.

Then sprinkle it with the pie mix and brown sugar.  This is getting ridiculous.

And then bake to golden perfection.  It's best to wait a good 20 minutes or so, but sometimes we can't help but dig in sooner.  (Then our burnt tongues regret it.)

I specifically took note of making this today because 1) it was fun, and 2) I wanted to capture my kids' reaction to me serving pie for dinner.  Because, c'mon, it's pie.  What's not to love?

Things played out as I suspected.  Spencer was willing to try it, and at first said he liked it.  Then changed his mind.  Weirdo.

This boy loved the apple and crust parts, but not the sausage and cheese.  I'll take that as a win.

Josh made fake barfing noises and aced like he was going to die.  This came as no surprise, as he is at his punkiest at the dinner table.

And Tess picked at hers and then declared she didn't like it.  Then she picked at her yogurt and declared she didn't like it.  Then she ate about a 1/3 of a banana.  I suspect she'll be in here within the hour, begging for a snack.

So the kiddos didn't exactly love it this time.  Perhaps by next year their palates will have matured enough to appreciate the glory that is this meal.