GrumpyMomma’s Blog

I’m going to do something here that I don’t ordinarily do, which is a serious rant.  As in, I’m serious when I rant about this.

Why is it that when you invite my little Ginger over to your house for a playdate, you feel compelled to stuff her full of junk food?  I’ve yet to have Ginger come home from a playdate and not report that she had one or more of the following: lollipops, ice pops, fruit juice, candy bars, ice cream, artificially-sweetened water, jelly beans, and/or gummy bears. 

What is the point?  It’s not as though Ginger or any other pre-schooler needs a bribe to go on a playdate.  Do this many people really think it’s acceptable to feed kids this much garbage?  I realize that I’m a wee bit neurotic about sugar intake in our house, but apparently the rest of the population sits on the extreme far side of the spectrum on this issue.  

Moreover, are pre-schoolers really not capable of going 90 minutes without eating or drinking?  Ginger is on the lean side, but she doesn’t look as though she’s hurting for food.

Let our kids play, and scale back the junk food.  I can promise you that I won’t be feeding your kid any of that stuff when they come over to my house because (1) they don’t need it; and (2) I respect the fact that you may not want me to feed your child like that.  Trust me, our kids will have a good time without it.

Since I always need to be obsessing about something, my newest focus is germs, or rather, killing them.

H1N1 (swine flu) is making the rounds.  We also have the regular flu to worry about.  And just for fun, the weather has turned sharply colder, which means people are just going to be sick in general.  As a result, I’ve become a bit of a germophobe. 

You know those people who won’t shake hands, and who use a tissue as a barrier between them and everything they touch?  Yeah, I’ve kind of become one of those people.  Plus, I’m washing my hands about 25 times a day.  And then using hand sanitizer, bottles of which I have stationed around the house, in my car, and in my handbag.

Apparently I revel in my insantiy.

You need to understand that I’m usually one of these “germs are good for you!” people.  I’ve never considered sending my kids to a chicken pox party or not vaccinating them, but I think it’s good for them to play in the dirt and pick up the occasional cold.  Germs are our friends!

Not this year, baby.  I’m basically convinced we’re all going to wind up in the hospital.

Please note this does not mean I’ve decided to actually start cleaning our house.  Why would I want to do something crazy like that?!?  So I’m sticking with the hand-washing.  It’s something, right?

Anyway, apparently using hand sanitizer, anti-bacterial soap, etc., is not good for the population as a whole, so I suppose I’m now making myself even more of a nuisance to the planet, but when you have two kids in school and almost assuredly will spend the next 7 months listening to them hacking up balls of mucus and feeding them ibuprofen to fight fevers, you are willing to take drastic measures.  If I have to play nurse to two kids + one hubster, I need to be healthy myself.

And so it is that in mid-October, my hands are already cracked and dry from the constant assault from soap and alcohol.  Woot for flu season.  May we all emerge healthy and intact.

OK, I realize this isn’t a cooking blog, but it’s so rare for me to stumble upon a recipe that gets me excited to eat (because I am completely lost in the kitchen) that I feel compelled to post this.

We had a small party on Saturday and someone brought over some chicken strips with Creole Mustard Sauce.  The sauce was AMAZING.  The best part is that all of the ingredients are fairly straight-forward and easy to find in the store, something that my cooking-phobic little heart adores.  I have used the leftover sauce on chicken, salmon, burgers, celery, broccoli, and cucumbers.  It’s incredibly versatile. 

One substitution to recommend: instead of regular dijon mustard, the person who made the delicious batch that I’ve been enjoying over the past few days suggests Grey Poupon Country Dijon Mustard.  I am cutting and pasting from the recipe website; the link is below the recipe.  I did NOT try making the chicken that goes along with the recipe.  Anything that calls for combining Cap’n Crunch cereal and chicken freaks me out a bit.

Creole Mustard Sauce

• 1 cup mayonnaise
• 1/4 cup creole mustard or Dijon mustard
• 1 teaspoon yellow mustard
• 1 teaspoon horseradish
• 1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar
• 1 dash worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon red wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon water
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon green onion, sliced in pieces
• 1 teaspoon crushed garlic
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped green pepper
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped celery
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped onion

http://www.recipezaar.com/Planet-Hollywood-Captain-Crunch-Chicken-18065

If anyone decides to make this, I would love to hear if you like it or not.  Feel free to criticize – I won’t be offended since I claim no ownership of the recipe (the credit goes to someone named Mysterygirl, as cited on the recipezaar.com website).

I had another reminder recently of just how stressful it is to be a parent and how the title “parent” really ought to be changed to “permanent guilt trip.”

The kids and I headed over to a local park for a play date with one of Ginger’s friends.  As the kids played, the other child’s mom and I were discussing the kids in general and as an airplane flew overhead and my kids went nuts over it, I casually commented that some of their current obsessions include airplanes and helicopters, as well as the moon.

Other Mom then said that her daughter asked her earlier that day if the moon was a planet.

Um, what?

This child understands the concept of planets enough to make the connection that the moon might be one?  And here I thought my kids were somewhat intelligent.  I guess it’s time to start looking into some “alternative” classes for Ginger given that I’ve never considered discussing the concept of planets with her.

Seriously, though, this is the brutal part of parenting.  Surely there are ideas or concepts that Ginger gets that her little friend, who is only one day younger, doesn’t get… I hope.  It doesn’t help that her mother told me recently that they sometimes pass the time by singing songs in English, French, Spanish, AND sign language.  Meanwhile, I’ve spent three years trying to teach Ginger some French and we’re still stuck on “bonjour.”

It’s easy to think that your child is a genius whenever they make some new connection, and it’s certainly fun to think that your child is ahead of the curve on something, anything.  But then things like this happen to bring you right back down to earth.  And really, does it matter that Ginger doesn’t understand the concept of a planet yet?  She is three! 

This is what I loathe about parenting these days.  Pick up any book or read any news article, and it’s all about the hyper-competitive nature of Gen X and Gen Y parents who will do anything to get their kids ahead of the curve.  I see this at our play groups.  One three-year-old goes to a Spanish immersion class and now knows more Spanish that I ever learned from my year of study in the 7th grade.  Another 3-year-old is obsessed with horses and apparently knows all about different breeds, how to care for them, the best diet, etc..

Meanwhile, I read to my kids, speak to them using adult words, and encourage as much creative play as possible, hoping that somehow this all creates some fertile ground for a intelligent adults.  I’m certainly not using flash cards or quizzing them on the fifty states or taking them to piano lessons… yet.

Parenting really can be madness and I struggle regularly with keeping my head about myself as to how we are doing as parents.  Finding out that Other Child is a genius really doesn’t help my cause.

Yesterday the kids and I went to a coffee klatch through our local moms’ group.  As the moms were chit-chatting, the kids were running around, playing.  Every now and then they would lie down on the floor and get very quiet.  We all thought this was lovely because it gave us the occasional few moments of peace and quiet.

Among the kids doing this were my one year-old son, another one-year-old, and several three- and four-year olds.  Spearheading the games were two girls, aged 5 and 6.

Toward the end of the gathering, the kids picked Ginger to be the “villain” and the two oldest girls were across the room, yelling “Na-na-na-na-na” at her.  This all happened in the course of about 5 seconds, and I was out of my seat as quickly as could be to address the situation.  Ginger’s face was red (although she was smiling) so I asked her if she was OK.  She said yes and I assumed the red face was from running around like a maniac.  Then another mom asked what game they were all playing, and the oldest girl yelled, “DIE!”

In other words, when they had been lying on the floor, they were pretending to be dead.  And they were picking “villains” to kill them all.

My kids don’t understand these concepts and needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled with any of this.  I also wasn’t pleased with the “na-nas” being directed toward my daughter, although it was fairly clear that it wasn’t intended to be malicious; the older girls were merely imitating something they had seen elsewhere.  Nevertheless, this whole escapade was an unwelcome wake-up call.  Right under my own nose, my kids were playing something highly age-inappropriate and my daughter was being marginalized, if temporarily, by her friends.

I made clear to everyone in the room that I didn’t like the game and that it was over.  Thankfully, the other moms agreed and chimed in after me.  But these things are going to happen and I have my tight feeling in my chest just recounting all of this.  I was bullied for one year in school as a child, and I am going to make damn sure that my children don’t have to deal with this.  They also don’t need to be pretending to die at the ripe ages of 1 and 3.

Going forward, this Mama Bear is going to be paying more attention to what her kids are doing when they play with others.