Monday, December 14, 2009

Dinner at the Quintanas

Well, I’ve got SOME Christmas cards ready to go out. Not half but maybe a quarter of them. I’ve had my earbuds in, tuning out Harry Potter and whatever he’s getting up to.

I’ll be doing cards differently next year. Like the photo kind that comes with envelopes. Maybe print up the labels in October. Cross off folks who never keep in touch. I screwed it up a bit this year. I bought cards last January without looking carefully. Some look nice and others are literally only a holder for a photo with a message on the back. They don’t even open. Whatever. The main problem is that all of them only have 3 ½ x 5 openings and I ordered 4 x 6 photos so Michael Jr. and Sam, flanking the group, each have half a face showing. Oh well. It’s the thought that counts. Never mind that the thought was “Why Do I Keep Doing This?”. And why do I keep doing this? Because it’s the done thing and I LOVE getting Christmas cards. I haven’t any right to hope for them if I’m not sending them, right?

This was dinner tonight: When I looked it up I also saw this one: If you try it before me let me know what you think. Doesn’t it look good? I suppose only if you don’t consider broccoli a vile weed. Which I don’t. Because it’s DELICOUS.

While I cooked, that song “Last Christmas” came on the radio. It reminded me of the gal who did my manicure and pedicure on Saturday. That song came on while she did my nails. After it played for a bit she stopped what she was doing and just looked at me. Out of nowhere she said, “How could he give my heart to someone else? The very next day? You can’t give away someone else’s heart.” Awkward. I think I kind of prefer having my nails done by someone I wasn’t supposed to understand.

I spent dinner prep time alternating between actually cooking and removing children from the large bin I bought a Walmart today. I bought it for snow boots, snow pants, etc. because I haven’t been blessed with a mud room (you get what you get with these Alphabet Houses and what you get isn’t a mud room). The kids have turned my kitchen into a disaster area and I’m hoping this helps. But anyway, I should have known better than to leave it empty for any length of time. For reasons unknown to me, Josh spent an hour alternately performing Greco-Roman wrestling on his annoyed older brothers and begging them to lock him in the bin. Me and my big ideas.

The dinner was pretty tasty but Sam insisted he wasn’t hungry. Michael brought home the newest Harry Potter movie from the Redbox and a bag of candy so the deal was the child with the best dinner manners could pick first. Sam had last pick but was lucky to have a pick at all. I had to actually sing to get him to eat. To the tune of “One Night in Bangkok” I crooned, “One bite of broccoli and you’ll watch a movie; you’ll get to pick some candy from the bag . . .” You may as well know that I do awful things like this to 80’s tunes all the time. I should also disclose that it works only because they will do anything to get me to stop. I just can’t help myself; I’m a musical freak.

Dinner ended with Kenny numbing his tongue with ice to see if he could keep from tasting the broccoli (something he learned from Encyclopedia Brown) and me realizing these kids are developing an expensive egg nog habit. But hey, 'tis the season, right?
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1 comment:

  1. I also torture my children with made up words to real songs. Sometimes they laugh, most of the time they cringe. Must mean we are good mothers!


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