Brudders

Amos, the first day Max was home, peering into Max's crib: "I'm Amos, dat's Mommy, Daddy's inna kitchen, and you're my Baby Max."

Amos, the second day Max was home, watching me change his outfit: "Oh!  He has toes!  He so sweet!  And he has blue outfit!  Tha's sweet."

Amos, the third day Max was home, after shouting loudly enough to wake him up, shouting into his crib: "I'm sorry for wake you up, Max!  I'm sorry!  You go back to sleep now!"

Amos, the fourth day Max was home, discovering his pacifier in his crib: "OH!  Max have a blue fire-passy!"  (No, I really don't know.)

Amos, the fifth day Max was home, watching me feed him: "Mommy!  He still hungry!  You feed him!"

Amos, today: "Mommy, can we go back to the hospital and put Max back in you tummy?"

Brudders

Double kissies!

Now Presenting . . . .

Well, we decided it wasn't enough to get to read the Narnia series and the Little House series for the "first" time three times.  So, just for the chance to read all the greats through one more time . . .

(Well, okay, maybe for some other reasons, too. . . )

Welcome to the world, Maximus Kenneth Murphy [Our Last Name].

Max says, "Hi, y'all.  'Scuse me while I rest a bit.  It's hard work being born."

The Line Must Be Drawn Here! This Far, No Further.

It comes up almost every time we watch Iron Chef together.  He sees something he wants to try, and he asks if we can get some.

Duck breasts, bone marrow, Mexican chocolate, tomato gelato, black truffles, an ebelskiver pan--there's no end to what Iron Chef can make look cool.

Usually I'm non-committal.  Even about the truffles, I said, "Well, if we can find some and if we have a little extra money in the grocery budget some month."

But this time, I draw the line.

"Ooo, that looks cool.  Can we get some?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"We've never even tried it."
"No."
"Maybe it's not too expensive."
"No."
"What if we can find it at the store?"
"Absolutely not."
"I'll bet Williams Sonoma has it."
"No."
"PLEASE?"
"NO."
"We could make ice cream with it!"
"We have an ice cream maker."
"We could make ice cream without having to use the ice cream maker."
"En. Oh.  NO."
"Why not?"
"You'll freeze your fingers off.  And also, because no."
"I'll be careful."
"THEO.  I am NOT BUYING LIQUID NITROGEN.  No.  No, no.  NO."
"Hmph.  I'll bet Mimi will buy it for me."
"Good luck."

The Way-back Cuisine

Quick!  List ten foods you used to make/eat that you don't make/eat any more.

How many of them are used-tos because you 1) know better now, 2) can't afford them anymore or can afford better now, and 3) don't frickin' have that kind of time any more?

Most of my list falls under category 4: We don't live in France any more, and consists of my five favorite cheeses, two favorite wines, and snails.  (Seriously.  I used to make snails.)

But the other two things on my list are from The Grad School Years (Take One)--during the Master's degree, when money and time were short and when I didn't actually cook everything from scratch.

Hot Pockets, and ramen noodles.

Oh, how many Hot Pockets and Cup O'Noodles we took to school.  How many weekend lunches were ramen noodles.

I will never, ever, EVER eat Hot Pockets again.  If they were paying shoppers to take them out of the grocery store, I would pass.

But I did get an unaccountable yearning to have ramen noodles again.

They're actually pretty tasty, if you dispense with the "flavor" packet and use actual soup ingredients.

Voila.

Real chicken broth, veggies (including some from our own garden), and a lovely soft-boiled egg.

Isaac had three bowls, and then asked why we didn't have ramen noodles all the time.

I, of course, answered, "Grad school."  (Dave Ramsey often says he doesn't eat tuna fish, EVER, because when he went bankrupt, he ate tuna salad sandwich for lunch every day for years.)

Isaac was uncomprehending, even after I explained about the "flavor" packet.

In fact, he asked if he could add the flavor packet to his (fourth) bowl, at which point the other two chimed in and begged for the same.

Rotten little ingrates.

Wake-up Call

Nothing will get you out of bed faster than certain sounds.

Previously, the top performer was the sound of a child retching, because, well, you know.  Second place was the baby gate being pushed over, because that meant the Kraken had escaped.  Sounds of potential home invasion were way, way down the list.

But we added a new one yesterday: the sound of a seven-year-old saying, "Don't worry about the ironing, Mommy!  I did it while you were sleeping."

Yes, he did.  A napkin, one of his brother's school shirts, and a pair of gym shorts.

The shirt looked great.  And he remembered to unplug the iron when he was done.

He left the iron face down on the ironing board, but, well, singe marks don't hurt anything.

So.  That was exciting.

We decided that it was past time to teach him to cook, then, since his appetite for Doing Dangerous Grown-up Things had clearly been unsatisfied.

Scrambled Eggs À La Theo it was, then.

If you want to make them, here's how:

Mix eggs (one per person, plus one extra), salt, and cream in a bowl.

Pour eggs into hot pan with melted butter.

Burn your finger a little, so that Mom remembers that people should wear shirts while cooking.

Stir gently to keep eggs from burning.

Enjoy a good breakfast with Mom.

First Day of Classes

Well, it's the first day of classes here at [my college].

Some cruel and thoughtless person sent me this link, and I was stupid enough to read it, even though he said it made him cry every time he read it:

All Legs and Curiosity

I've got a baby heading off to college next year.  So I get it. 

I've been thinking about it for seven years now, actually--right after Theo was born, and I realized, "He'll be home for ten years after his big brother goes to college.  How will he manage without his big brother around?  For ten years???"

But, anyway, I get it, Moms and Dads.  I get that my students are your babies.

I don't promise to love them as much as you do.

I certainly won't be keeping up with whether or not they wear socks, although I might chastise them for using tobacco or apologizing too much or texting in class (and definitely for texting while driving).

But I promise to do right by them, and to try to help them become adults, and to want better for them than they want for themselves (and almost as good as you want for them).

And I promise always, always to remember that they're somebody else's babies.