I'm not a great parent. I do my best, but I'm pretty shoddy at it. For instance, I'm fairly sure a good mom would have said something like "Oh, honey, are you okay?" I said "God fucking dammit!" See the difference? I did take the boys to daycare. Partly to get them away from the barf zone, and partly to give them a chance at some active play and fresh air. I did laundry, disinfected surfaces, and prepared to catch vomit. I sometimes feel like my kids deserve a lot better. Like a mom who's main feeling when her child is sick isn't mild irritation. I am what I am. I console myself with the fact that they are fed, clothed, and sheltered.
On to the menu!
As you might imagine, there's not a lot of time to cook when someone may potentially vomit at any time. That's asking for burned food. I had scraped up a fast breakfast this morning in anticipation of running out the door to work. Instead I ate half, cleaned up a mega puddle of vomit, then finished up. There are some benefits to being deeply insensitive.
Sunbutter and banana waffle sandwich. Easy and delicious.
Lunch for the girl child consisted of saltines. She managed to keep down some graham crackers earlier in the morning, and she requested crackers for lunch. I'm not picky the day after a barfapalooza, so I gave her what she asked for. Myself, I had leftover sloppy joe's on my paleo "buns". The instructions for reheating were toaster oven or toaster, so I popped them in the toaster. They are nice and biscuity from the toaster. I need to get up a good paleo recipe for sausage gravy and I'm golden.
No idea why the fuck this is sideways.
Dinner was bland for the kids, whole wheat noodles with cheese and some garlic bread and bananas. They ate pretty well and no puking ensued, so I was happy. I just made the quickest dinner on earth. Kai Jiao and bacon. Tasty, filling, and fast. There won't be any dessert tonight, I just don't care enough. My plan is stuff the kids into their beds and 8 and be asleep well before 9. Tomorrow is the Ice Bowl at CFGB and I'm volunteering so I can help out and still watch my friends compete. I've been out of the box a week. It feels like forever.
Fish sauce makes eggs magic.
People ask me for recipes a lot, which is cool, but I feel like posting them on a public forum like a blog is kind of stealing. I'm not really a very good cook on my own (by which I mean I have no creative spark for it), but if you can read you can cook...and I can fucking read. Every recipe I make is available online or in print form, and I'm happy to share the source. I've said before that I'm linky stupid-I'll link a blog main page, but specific recipe linking escapes me. I'm sure it's fairly simple, I just don't care enough to do it. This is just a food log, after all. So where do all these recipes come from? Here are some of my favorite books!
This one is brand new, and has an Asian flair.
Trivia: It's written by a hospital pharmacist!
All things pig, including how to render your own lard.
We are totally getting the leaf lard from our next pig and doing it.
Well Fed was the book that convinced me that paleo eating could be better
than "regular" eating. I am forever grateful.
The guide is nice and has some recipes in it, the cookbook fleshes out the
plans. Not all recipes are paleo, but most are or are easily adaptable.
Especially good for not-sweet treats.
A good basic reference.
Sideways, but some fabulous stuff, including paleo girl scout cookies and
olive oil brownies that are incredible.
Haven't had this one long, but it's promising.
Believe it or not, this magazine has some great recipes for eating clean.
Many are paleo or adaptable.
Not much excitement on the menu here today. Tomorrow will probably be coffee fueled, but I'm looking forward to it. Hopefully tonight will be quiet and we can all get some rest. Sunday's forecast looks to be suitable for an outside run, and I'd love to get a 5 miler even if it is on slightly mushy roads. Feb. 8th is the Seroogy's 5k, and then half training begins in earnest. I haven't run long forever, and I admit to feeling nostalgic for the solitude of an 8, 10, or 12 miler.
As I write this, my boys are pantsing each other. Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me anticipates a trip to the emergency room. There's already sand and smashed crackers all over the interior of my car. I'd rather not add blood and vomit. Leather cleans up nice, but not that nice.