As Week Two draws to a close, I have in my head a list of things I am thankful for.
- Puzzles that occupy Chooch
- Ability to shut Chooch out when he starts whining in frustration over said puzzle
- iCarly, for being one of the few shows that can keep Chooch quiet for the entire episode
- Janna, who has babysat me numerous times while I in turn babysit Chooch
- CVS, for being in walking distance
- That I don’t own a gun (thankfulness on this tip is debatable and changes by the hour)
- the convenient way tablespoons are marked on butter wrapper so idiots like me don’t have to panic
- MTV reality shows
a. because I forgot how much I love to emulate the theatrical warbling of raggedy orphans
1 . and this in turn gives Chooch a taste of his own obnoxious-coated medicine
b. it keeps alive my dream that the sun really will come out tomorrow, and by that, I mean a rich man will adopt me and it will be all “Henry who?” and you will see me tapdancing into the sunset, my friends.
Did something amazing yesterday, I did. I made cornbread on my own, and I only had to text Henry once for help. I even added real life corn into the mix (which tastes real good, by the way, salmonella be damned) and then, oh you will never believe this, while it was baking in the oven (yes, I made sure all the extraneous cookware was cleared out first. I learned the hard way when I still lived at home and attempted to bake cookies while a bag of missed crackers still sat in the corner of the oven-turned-pantry) I even took it upon myself to mix my own HONEY BUTTER. When it was done, I swiped a finger through it and exclaimed, “I did that!” which is the same thing Chooch says when he shits on the potty/Sharpies the wall/blows up the neighborhood with a homemade grenade.
And then of course, after all my slaving in the kitchen, Chooch was like, “Are you fucking kidding me, fool? I ain’t eating that shit.” Even when I tried to say it was cake, he backed away in horror and said, “I can’t like that.” Even when I lied and said, “Daddy made it!” he was like, “Uh, no, YOU made it. I watched you, retard.”
When Henry came home last night, I begged him to try some. He kept giving me excuses like:
- I’m not hungry
- I’m allergic
- I don’t like cornbread
- Look, you’re missing the Real World, omg!
But finally he conceded.
“It’s good right?” I asked expectedly. “I even put real corn in it. It’s like an actual Mexican made it, Henry.”
He said it was decent.
“What?” he asked, cornbread mastication ceased in apprehension.
“Well, the expiration date was from a year ago. But that’s probably OK, right? I mean, it tasted fine to me.”
He quit eating it after that, but swears it was just because he was full.
Whatever. I used fresh milk and eggs, at least. Besides, it said it was a SUGGESTED date. My personal suggestion was to use it yesterday.
“Joke’s on you, mommy-asshole.”
Um. I’ve only babysat a few kids in my life, but how come I get the feeling your child is like no other?? If it was me, I would have put wine, wine, wine, wine, wine, HEROIN. He even looks devious. I love cornbread. If i bring you wine, and a fresh cornbread mix- will you hook a brother up?
By the way- I love that black and white photo.
I’ve been known to do more than a little hooking up when given wine, my friend, lol.
I don’t think it would kill you or anything, just be kind of stale. I did that once with a butter pecan cake mix; it was a year past the “best by” date, but I checked the mix when I dumped it out and there wasn’t anything weird in it. It was like a pancake, though, probably because the baking powder lost its potency.
Lol, I didn’t even check until I was done baking it.
Looks like you caught him doing that laughing hand thing he was doing last night! Lol it’s so funny.
Congrats on the successful cornbread, I’m sure it was fine even if it was expired.
I was telling Henry about that. That was so hilarious! He is such an overactor.
““I even put real corn in it. It’s like an actual Mexican made it, Henry.”
I cannot stop laughing at this. And then I picture you saying it, and Henry’s face, and I laugh more.
I just got some new wine, and I wish I could bring it over to share with you.
BY THE WAY, holy crap, that puzzle photo is awesome!!
Is it that Insane wine you mentioned in your lj? It sounded very interesting. Let me know how it is!
And thank you! It felt good to take some pictures this morning!
cornbread is food of the gods. fuck those ingrates.
also, if it’s dry ingredients you used, the expiration date really doesn’t mean a whole lot. It could taste a little off but if it tasted fine then whatever.
you should resort to calling henry a “fucking spanish princess” next time you make anything and he has shit to say about it
“so what if the chicken was a little pink on the inside? oh boo hoo. You know what your problem is? you’re a fucking spanish princess, is what”
…I should SO be married. I have the attitude down
I called him a Spanish princess as he left for work this afternoon (this was like, 5 minutes after you commented and I really couldn’t wait to use it). He just kind of looked confused, yet surly, and walked out of the house, lol.
Oh my god, Chooch is adorable.
Do you have a Nintendo DS, Erin?
I found a game that has bunches of recipes, tells you the ingredients and has videos of cooking basics. I tell ya, it’s for you. It’d be good for when you’re going crazy trying to think of what to make while Henry’s at work:
I’m still learning, myself. I can bake up a storm, but cooking new things is still practice for me. Luckily, Ray’s game to whatever I make. ;)
No, I don’t have a DS but I want one! I’ve seen commercials for that game and it seems very intriguing!
I seriously love your kid already, I’d have one now if I knew he’d be half as cool, plus I’m just masochistic enough to enjoy that kind of punishment.
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cooking is just another artistic endeavor. Be careful or it will grow on you. Today you are putting real corn in your cornbread. Tomorrow it will be capers and sun dried tomatoes on the pasta. And then you learn that, unlike your art, people are quicker to devour and appreciate your cooking and it serves a primal function as well and all your years of denouncing and hating all things cooking melt away in a demi-glaze that heralds you a demi-god.
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