These bowls are SO cool (And a telling mistake on my part!)

Over the summer, as Molly got more mobile and interested in things other than her own feet and hands, I resisted buying any new toys, knowing that her birthday was coming up (and knowing that we had no where to actually PUT the toys).  I had gotten her one new thing in the spring – that she was obsessed with at a friend’s house and then was utterly unimpressed by when it appeared at our house – and we made do with plastic food storage containers, her trusty Leapfrog table, and lots of books.  (For the record, books aren’t toys, so I buy many new books every week.)  Two weeks before her birthday, Jim and I went on a toy-shopping date (not as fun as it was supposed to be since I was developing dry sockets from my wisdom tooth extraction) and picked out the perfect gifts for our Peach.  She loves the play camera we got her, thinks the puzzles taste delicious, and finds it hilarious when she holds up a farm animal and I moo like a cow or baa like a sheep.

However, we could have saved a lot of money.  Because guess what we should have given her instead?

Dog bowls.  Especially one full of water.

She thinks those dog bowls are awesome.  And she’s starting to come around to the baby dolls that I keep forcing on her.  I have been trying to teach her how hug the dolls, so I hug the doll and then give the doll to her and say, “Give her some love.”  Molly usually just tosses the doll aside and heads straight for the dog bowls.  I finally decided to pick the bowls up from the floor when Allie’s not eating (Genius idea, you say?  Thanks.  It only took me two weeks to figure that one out!) so now Molly has to play with her toys or sit alone in the kitchen.  The other day, I pointed at one of her dolls and told her to give the doll some love.  Molly looked at me and then handed me the doll, as if to say, “YOU give her some love; I don’t want to.”

—————————————–

My dear husband pointed out to me on Wednesday that I have already shared the Mexican Casserole with you.  So you can take that two ways:  1) we really, really like it   OR  2)  I don’t have a lot of recipes in my cooking arsenal.

Sorry for the repeat – I’ll try to come up with something NEW next time!

Read Full Post »

Mexican Casserole

Jim and I were doing so well for a while, making our meals during the week at home and looking at our coupons and grocery store ads to make our weekly menu and shopping list.  I also had a totally nifty notepad from MomAgenda that we used to post the menu on the fridge.  Well, the notepad ran out of paper and I started back to work in the spring and we’ve been terribly unoriginal about our meal planning ever since.  After noticing (yet again) how much money we spend on eating out and watching my waistline slowly expand, this week I decided was the week to get back on track making healthy meals at home.  Most of the time, anyway.  Monday, we had a yummy honey-soy glazed salmon; last night we had goat cheese and spinach stuffed chicken; and tonight we’re having Mexican casserole.  My neighbor, Merritt, brought this casserole to us after Peaches was born and I immediately emailed her for the recipe.  It’s so easy and it makes enough to share, freeze, or for leftovers.

So, without further ado, Merritt’s Mexican Casserole:

2 cups cooked brown rice

1 can corn, drained

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained

1 can tomatoes and green chiles (Rotel, anyone?)

1 8 oz container fat-free sour cream

1 8 oz jar salsa

2 cups fat free shredded cheddar cheese

1/4 tsp pepper

1 bunch green onions, chopped

1 small can sliced ripe olives

1 8 oz package fat free Monterey Jack shredded cheese

Combine the first 8 ingredients into a lightly greased 13 x 9 inch baking dish.  Sprinkle with remaining ingredients.  Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes.

*We use two 8 x8 pans and freeze one.  For just the two of us, one pan is still enough for two nights of dinner or dinner and lunch.  Add a green salad and some  tortilla chips for a complete meal!

Read Full Post »

A little crying never hurt anyone

My sweet Molly is more of an observer than a jump-right-in kind of gal.  At playdates, she takes it all in, sometimes not leaving my side for 20 minutes before committing to an activity.  As her mother, I walk the line of wanting her to dive right in and being proud that she makes a decision before acting.  She’s also a very sensitive soul…a sharp voice (or loud bark), seeing an unexpected face, or a little tug of the hair from a playmate can open the flood gates.  When I first realized that Molly was quick to cry, I wanted her to toughen up.  She’s just going through a phase, everyone said.  She’s so calm and sweet, everyone else said.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I wanted her to toughen up because I see a part of me in her – the part that cries at commercials, news stories, happy news, big and small disappointments, and when the wind changes directions.  I’ve spent the greater part of my life trying not to cry at the little things, at least not in public.  But as I’ve gotten older and more aware of myself, I’ve realized that that’s just who I am.  I always recover from disappointments and anger quicker than it takes my face to become less red and swollen.  And at least I can’t be accused of not feeling anything, or of not sharing my feelings.  I mean, I can’t help but share them through my quivering lip and red, teary eyes.

So while I try not to pick  Molly up every time she pulls a chair over on her or soothe her every time she is startled, I don’t mind the crying as much anymore.  I recognize it as who she is – someone who is sensitive and will hopefully be sensitive towards others’ needs and feelings as she grows.

————————————–

Last week, the fall semester started but Molly’s preschool hadn’t, so for three weeks we’re depending on the kindness of family and friends (and complete strangers, if need be) to take care of Molly while I’m teaching.  She cried every morning last week when I left the house {I bet you didn’t expect that!} and was perfectly fine every day when I came home.  I would usually text the sitter/friend/my mom when I got to the stop sign and most mornings, she had already stopped crying by then.  However, today, Molly couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge that I was leaving, much less be upset about it.  While I was glad that she was content and happy, I thought it would have been nice of her to at least let me hug her good-bye.

Guess who was crying at the stop sign today?

Read Full Post »