Pecked by Ducks

As usual the wonderful ladies out there in the blogisphere got me inspired. First it was Ilina over at Dirt and Noise who wrote an awesome post called Boys Like Pink Too, which reminded me of Cynthia’s post over at Sugar Mamma called Boys in Dresses. Which is basically the long way around of saying that Max really wanted a blue sparkly Cinderella costume for Halloween.

Why then did he end up with a Batman costume you ask? Well to be honest, it was a somewhat soul crushing moment for me and I didn’t know how to fix it.

It was some weekend about a month before Halloween, when Judd had had quite enough of the kids thank you. So I decided to bribe them with Halloween costume shopping and I figured if I dragged them around to a bunch of stores before I just took them to Target, it would fill two important purposes. 1) it would take up a bunch of time and 2) would keep them motivated, hopefully in a good mood because of the promise of the perfect Halloween costume at the end of the proverbial - please just sedate me - shopping trip rainbow.

It pretty much worked. They wrinkled their little noses and shook their heads at ninjas, pirates, various fleece-stuffed animals, including a crazy adorable bat which would have been my vote, all the while I was promising that yes Target had Batman and Superman and Transformers.

FINALLY we headed for Target. The kids were a little burnt out on shopping and were starting to loose steam so I let them ride in the cart. We pulled up in front of the isle long Max sized costume row and I asked what do you think? I pushed the cart slowly down the isle while Max looked over the selection carefully.

Suddenly his eyes light up, he smiled and pointed. “That one mommy!” I turned around and looked. “The yoda?” I asked, puzzled, holding it up. “No the blue sprinkley one.” I turned around again and saw a lovely little blue Cinderella dress. “This one?” I asked holding it up. He had a huge grin on his face and was nodding happily. “Okay.” I said just as Quinn busted out with “That’s for girls.” In that nasty, disapproving bigger, cooler kid voice when they are keeping the little people in their place.

I started at him, horrified for I am not sure how long before I told him that Max can wear any costume he wants and that if this is the one he likes, that is perfectly fine, there are no costumes just for boys or just for girls, and Max can pick anything he likes. Then Quinn looked at me a little less sure and pointed to the little Cinderella costume I was now clutching to my breast. “But that’s for girls.” No, I told him, it is a Halloween costume and anyone who wants to can wear it.

Then, I kid you not, he shruged his little shoulders and turned away from me while muttering “It’s for girls” under his breath. I turned to Max smiling and said “Okay, so lets get this one?” He shook his tiny little 3 year old head sadly and pointed to the Batman costume. The damage had already been done. His idol, his hero, his big brother had crushed his little heart’s desire.

Where did Quinn hear those things or get a sense of prejudice already at 5 years old running so deep that he apparently agreed to disagree with me on the subject? Certainly not in our house. And how to I counteract it? By my actions and my speech of course, but is that enough? I have to assume that he heard it from the kids at school or at soccer practice, but if our actions are not enough, then what is? Does this extend beyond gender rolls? We do now live in the South, but we just changed our state from red to blue, and we elected an African American Man to be president of the United States. Surely, my 3 year old should be able to wear whatever the heck he wants and not just on Halloween.

I hung both the Cinderella and the Batman costume on the cart and we finished our shopping. When it was time to check out, I held them both up and asked Max which one. He chose Batman, but that happy sparkle in his eye?… we left that behind at Target with the “sprinkley” Cinderella dress.

Happily, when I told Judd about it, he wanted to go back and get the dress anyway. We’ll add it to the costume box and he can wear it whenever he wants. Sadly I didn’t have the money right then and when I went back there weren’t any left.

I also had a talk with Quinn about the way he had made his comment and how it made Max feel bad and how that is not how we treat people, especially people we love. But I kind of got the feeling that all he heard was Charlie Brown’s teacher. Wah Wha Wha Wha Wha Wha.

On a positive note, Max ended up really liking his Batman costume. Judd made cardboard accessories for the belt which I hot glue gunned to him. It also had fins on the sides of the arms. I told him “That’s awesome, you’re so aerodynamic you’ll run super fast!” I guess he was pretty psyched about that because later he ran up to me and said, “Mommy! I’m so aromatic in my Halloween costume, I’m even stronger than daddy!” What could I say? Of course I agreed.

Did you miss me? I know, I know, it has been almost 2 months, but I totally missed you!

I wish I could say that I have a good reason, like I got a non -virtual job, or that I wrote a book, or became a lvl 70 WoW Hunter and conquered all of Azeroth. But no. I have just been lame. Bumming around trying to figure out what the heck I want to be when I grow up.

Our family has transitioned to a new au pair, we have gotten through Halloween and the NC state fair, we voted in a historic election in which literally our votes helped change our state from red to blue, and we are thinking about pulling Max out of preschool. All without telling you about it. It sort of feels weird.

So many things I’ve wanted to tell you about and catch you up on, but I’ve been too busy watching remake bombs on TV like Knight Rider. I know, total cheesy schlock. I mean seriously if the Hoff could pull it off 20+ years ago, what’s wrong with the writers/actors today? Okay, and really… how bad is it, if I admit that no matter how terrible the show is, just hearing the theme music kind of made me tingly in all my pink parts?

Seriously though, almost every day something happens that I want to blog, share, laugh, cry, get off my chest. So why then, have I been avoiding you?

Dunno. Maybe I have been avoiding me? If I have to tell you, then I can’t keep existing in this state of suspended animation. Maybe I think that if I hold very still, I can pretend that our economy isn’t in the toilet, that not being able to find a job isn’t actually going to start negatively effecting our family finances, that I am not going to have to stop wearing pajamas soon. Today even. Maybe. Ya think?

So I really did not mean to get all deep on you today. Really, I just wanted to say hi, I’m back, I’m rejoining the hustle and bustle, and in the days to come I am going to be catching you up on all of our Karen’s crazy family happenings.

To give you a little preview, a couple of weeks ago Judd and I were lingering at the table over dinner. Quinn was not in visual proximity, but Max was doing the, gotta pee, dance.

Me: “Max honey, go potty.”
Me: “Max… go now.”
Me: “Max! Right now!” Finally he headed for the ½ bath on the first floor, when we hear…
Quinn: “Max! I need some privacy!” Ooops, now we knew where Quinn was, dropping some boys off at the pool.
Me:”Max, go use the upstairs potty.” Silence…. Then…
Quinn: “Mooooommmmy! Max just peed on my butt.” I know, you are getting the same visual I did right?

We are bad, bad parents.

Okay, not as bad as we could have been. We did manage to contain the hysterical guffawing to some semi-noiseless snorting, and we were able to get it under control fast enough to have straight faces when we explained to Max that no, he couldn’t use the same potty as someone else and yes, even if it looks like there is a big enough hole behind where Quinn is sitting.

Max apologized to Quinn for accidentally peeing on his butt, no you do not need to kiss it, and those little mini-wipe-boxes of unscented, flushable wipes? They are literally my new best friend.

So goes a day in the life. Welcome back me. Hello again to you, and I am looking forward to catching up with all y’all.

♥ Karen

I am on the “teacher’s appreciation lunch” evite list at Max’s school. Which means that once a month I am asked to bring something tasty to school usually conforming to some sort of theme. Hey, these ladies are awesome! They love and take care of my precious baby boy. I am happy to make something delish and take it over to them once a month.

This time I made oatmeal raisin cookies. I am not sure how I ended up on dessert duty, but I am totally not complaining. I do however usually forget that I have promised to bring something (thank goodness for google calendar alerts) so long story short, the cookies were still hot when I showed up with them.

This is not a bad thing either, because frankly who is going to complain about still hot from the oven, baked from scratch cookies, except maybe to wish for some ice cold milk.

So I walked in and all the teachers (I was a wee bit late, but that’s okay, because a) they hadn’t started eating yet and b) I was bringing dessert so even if they had, it wasn’t a huge deal) turned to look and sniff appreciatively at me. I smiled and apologized for being late but commented about how at least the cookies were still hot and put them down on the table and tried to hustle myself out of there.

Then it happened.

The “should” appeared. One of the teachers said “Oh they smell so wonderful, and I love hot cookies, but I haven’t eaten yet and I really shouldn’t.”

I kept going (needing to escape, as I don’t much like interrupting or having people look at me) but it got the rant going in my head. Basically if you tell me I should or shouldn’t do something, based on some random, collective, herd mentality, it is going to make me want to do exactly the opposite. I am a grown woman, I can choose for instance what I want to eat and how healthy my diet is and if you present me with say, a hot cookie, I am pretty sure I can eat it and still choose to have a good lunch.

Now my kids on the other hand, I’ll admit, I ask them to finish their veggies or protein before they get more of the desired item on their plate and we don’t do dessert in our house except for special occasions, but I am not 5. And this whole “should” thing is just random guilt bandied about by others to try and conform me to their way of things. If I choose to not eat dessert first or choose to eat healthy things because it makes me feel better so be it, but if I want to eat ice cream for breakfast I going to eat the freakin’ ice cream.

Humpfh.

P.S. Wondering where that came from. Apparently I had some feelings on the subject and the BA in psychology in me is wondering what the larger trigger was, but am having no idea. Maybe I just like how these random rants keep me entertained while driving home.

So today (yesterday? I know, I know, I always post after midnight, but I am still awake so it counts as today right? Right? ) is/was my birthday. I’m 35. I’m pretty okay with that. I don’t really have any age issues yet except maybe I wish I was less tired, but really maybe not posting after midnight would help with this.

I have been in sort of a funk though. My grandmother passed away, I went on a diet, my oldest started kindergarten and our au pair’s year is up in about 3 weeks. Good things, sad things. Thing things I guess. But I need to get myself back into the swing of things. (Too many things? Yah, I thought so.) Anyhoo, my hubby is taking me away for the weekend, somewhere close by, I’m not sure where. Also, I have been wanting a talisman to proclaim that Karen is getting her sass back! Something to physically announce the reclamation of time and self I have been longing for.

Naturally this makes me think of fun, funky, sassy new haircut. I know, you too right? So I went to this new place (not to be mentioned) and had this done to me. Not quite the sass I was looking for. @dasparky and my sister @MaThuRRell suggested I go back to the salon and try to get them to make right their wrong and so I did. The results are less flippy frizz and more sass, but we shall see how it looks after a wash-and-go tomorrow morning. For now, here are the results.

Also today, in honor of my birthday, I decided to let my children torture me and we made carrot cake mini cupcakes from scratch. The boys had their chairs pulled up to the counter, they were doing a fabulous job taking turns, and we had just finished piping the batter into the mini muffin tins, when Quinn executed a perfect slow motion fall between the two chairs, pulling two full muffin tins of unbaked cupcake batter on top of himself.

I am a bad, bad mother.

I could do nothing to help him for a full 45 seconds through my hysterical and uncontrollable giggling. I finally got his arms out of his shirt and rolled it up so that we could pull it off over his head without spreading more gunk in his hair. AND he finally decided that he was more mad at me than hurt or upset, so here he is, mad at me because I am still giggling and taking pictures of him and his inside out t-shirt. Poor boy-a-lah! I felt so bad I let him and Max lick all the cream cheese frosting utensils.

forgot to take a picture of the other side of the kitchen and the ceiling. Yes, the ceiling!

Clearly the frosting on yours is better than mine. Hey, at least they are sharing.

Yum!

Are you done taking pictures?

How about now?

So I had Vicky take some pictures of Max and me. I figured since I am the one who always takes pictures and there are never any of me, and since Max was in a snuggly mood, I should get some of the two of us.

That is not what happened.

Don’t get me wrong, Max was cute and snuggly and we took a bunch of pictures, but all this little photo shoot did was illustrate how truly horrible my new hair cut is.

I asked for a bob people. Seriously? How hard could that be? Of course it was all my fault. I brought Twilight with me and started reading it while my hair was coloring. I think she said something about “stacking” the back and I think I heard the stropping of a straight razor, but once I started reading who could be bothered really?

So I ended up paying $110 for the worst case of somehow perfectly manufactured all over frizzy split ends I have ever seen. I hate vetting new hairdressers! And this one? FAIL! What part of busy mom don’t have time to “do” my hair need something simple, want a bob with the underside died fire engine red don’t you understand?

Gah!

Apparently “stacked” doesn’t mean what I thought. I vaguely thought she was commenting on either a) my 34F rack or b) my platform flip-flops, but who was listening anyway?

And what’s with the flippy bits on the sides there?

Okay, other than my butt-head center part, this one is pretty cute.

ditto

I mean, I had nice smooth hair, how does one create frizz like this?

Close up of the frizz.

Seriously, if Max wasn’t so insanely sweet in this photo I would delete it. I would be too embaressed to show it even to you. What is this? Some sort of new millenium mullet? Not even sure how one goes about fixing a disaster like this. I was just trying to get a little of my sass back. Well at least I got 2 hours of uninterupted reading done, and there is a bit of sass somewhere under all that frizz I suppose. <sigh>

Why, why, why is it still happening? I feel like stamping my feet and having a tantrum, but I can’t. The boys are asleep and it would wake them. Besides, it wouldn’t help, but maybe this will…

Yet again, another mom has been publicly harassed for breastfeeding. This time, on a plane, on her way back from spending time with her nephew in the hospital while he almost died. She was understandably, crying and unable to get her mama bear on, so we, the blogging community - the rest of the mama bear den - are standing up and getting our growl on.

Catherine at Her Bad Mother, whom I have quoted before in her fab defense of public breastfeeding, tells her story here.

If you would like to write an e-mail to the director of media relations of WestJet Gillian Bentley, this is her e-mail address gbentley@westjet.com.

Also, canape from Don’t Take the Repeats found this:

I will be writing some letters and I hope you will too. In 2008, for a woman to be so ignorantly bullied is reprehensible.

<Grrrrrr>

I am totally procrastinating. I need to be answering e-mails and writing proposals and completing my linked in profile. But today was Quinn’s first official day of school. And while it wasn’t as traumatic as a week ago Monday, when I took him in for a full day of assessment and let him (after much pleading) ride the bus home, I am still reeling a bit from the hugeness of it all.

So last Monday (not yesterday, I keep thinking today is Monday because of the holiday) I took Quinn to his assigned assessment day. He got to read and do math and show off his Spanish, and I suppose, get assigned to a teacher and a classroom. I filled out paperwork and tried not to freak out that I had let him talk me into letting him take the bus home.

Finally I couldn’t think of one more question to ask, any more papers to fill or find any more pamphlets to request and I had to leave. I waved good bye to my sweet boy, threw him an air high-five when the assessor told me that he had just sounded out for her a four syllable word, plastered a smile on my face and forced myself to walk down and out those long institutional hallways. (Of course he had happily called “bye mommy” and not looked back.)

I was going to be okay. I really was. I got in my car. Pressed the “home James” button on my GPS and started driving. I’m fine. I’m totally fine I told myself, Really, I’m totally fine. Until that frickin’ GPS drove me right past the only Krispy Crack Kreme Doughnuts in a 150 mile radius.

Now, I am in the tweightloss #2 challenge. I had been on the South Beach Diet for 2 weeks and I had survived the death of my beloved Grandmother and sitting Shiva without breaking my diet once. This means that I ate corned beef, pastrami, pickles and coleslaw with the occasional omelet thrown in for good measure for 6 frekin’ days straight. This is while being surrounded by lox, fresh bagels, cream cheese, capers, tomatoes, white fish, brisket, kasha, Danish, coffee cake, home made rugalah and every other delish - must have that now - delicacy I could have possibly craved. Could not one Jew bring a green salad for Pete’s sake? Oh, and the fresh macaroons! They seriously almost broke me. But I powered through and at my tweigh-in Monday morning before I took Quinn to school I was at -7. Woot!

Then that frickin’ GPS drove me right past the only Krispy Kreme in a 150 mile radius. (Thank goodness it is 30 minutes away from my house and I don’t get into town much.) So I ate 3 doughnuts and a low-fat milk (because it is less fattening of course) while crying the whole way home. <sigh>

My baby. My first precious, vulnerable, sweet, smart, delicious baby. I know he is not scared, I know he loves to learn, I know he is in the best school I could possibly find with a philosophy I support. I just worry with every fiber of my being. Will the kids tease him, will he know how to deflect bullies and make friends. Will he get scared riding a bus for 45 minutes, will the teachers look out for him and steer him in positive directions.

But most desperately of all, I hope he doesn’t hate it as much as I did. I mean, I went to 13 schools by the time I was in college and I didn’t attend 2nd or 4th grade (I know, I know everyone always asks me “military family?” no… hippies) and I was abysmally socially awkward (as only children raised to say what they think and miss social cues for inappropriate behavior and to forget to wear shoes or underpants to school can be) and I know I haven’t ill prepared him for the world. But still. I worry with every fiber of my being. And eat Krispy Kreme Doughnuts apparently.

So tonight, we were celebrating Quinn’s big first day and I asked him what special treat he wanted. He said apple crisp. I think he picks this because he gets to use the apple peeler/corer/chopper, but that’s fine with me. (Even if this time I can’t have any.) So when Deb asked on twitter about peaches and apples, I immediately though of this recipe and what a good distraction it would be to post. Here is my Vermont Apple Crisp recipe. It is the usual Shitarayn mish-mash of recipes and local ingenuity perfected by my mom, my sisters and me during our time living in Vermont, where “everything tastes better with maple syrup”.

Vermont Apple Crisp

Preheat oven to 350*

For the Crumb:

2 cups rolled oats (not instant)

1 cup all purpose flour (I particularly like King Arthur because they use a grinding process which retains it’s nutrients naturally and is not artificially enriched)

3/4 cup maple sugar ( maple sugar, not syrup, but you can use brown sugar if you don’t have maple)

1 tsp cinnamon

1 cup butter, very cold cut into small cubes

½ - 1 cup very small chopped walnuts or pecans

• Crumble butter, oats, cinnamon, sugar and flour together with your hands until butter is completely mixed in.
• Add chopped nuts and crumble some more.

For the Filling: (do this last so the apples don’t brown)

3 lb bag of apples peeled, cored, and sliced thin (I like mackintosh, but any crisp apple will do. Honey crisp, jonagold, braeburn, are my favorite alts, but again, anything will do)

1 Tbs cinnamon

1 cup maple syrup - only real or don’t bother and preferably grade C or if you have to B. I guess if you only have A it’s okay, but really at that point, again, why bother. (I know, I know I’m a maple syrup snob)

1 -2 Tbs All purpose flour

• Mix flour (with a fork or tiny whisk) slowly in to the maple syrup (between 1 & 2 Tbs depending on syrup grade) until the syrup is thick but pourable consistency.
• Add cinnamon, pour over the apples and mix.
• Place apples in baking dish and cover with Crumb topping, patting the topping down as you go.
• Place on middle rack and bake until lightly brown (about 30 – 45 minutes)

Serve with good vanilla ice cream, real whipped cream or even Vermont cheddar cheese.

I am hosting a rant from a fellow blogger to support Her Bad Mother’s Betchfest. Please welcome my anonymous guest and leave her lots of support and love!

For this betchfest, I first need to thank Karen. She is giving me the chance to express things I never could on my own blog while still letting me have the “fix” that comes from posting my thoughts and feelings publicly. Thank you Karen. You are appreciated.

Ask Me How I Work From Home
Yes, I work from home. I’ve worked from home for about five years now and have tried everything from affiliate marketing to internet marketing to virtual assistance to taking customer service phone calls from my house. The reason I am successful working from home (I’m going to clear 50k this year, if you want to know what I consider successful) is because I try everything. Then, if it works I find a way to do it better. If it doesn’t work I cut bait and move on…fast.

I don’t care what your situation is. My car got reposessed and my house was almost foreclosed on three times. Your story does not move me, your excuses do not make the answer any different. If you’re working from home you have to work harder and faster and better than you would if you were working for someone else.

Expect Me to Complain About My Relationship
I have a husband. I like him. He’s a good person that occasionally makes mistakes and once in a while does something really dumb. That does not make him an a-hole, a jerk, or a moron. He does the laundry and cleans the house. This does not make him homosexual, nor does it make me a nasty person or a control freak.

Just because your relationship stinks or you’re having problems, please do not expect me to berate my husband or marriage in general to make your miserable day better. It won’t make you feel better, you know. Not even a little bit. My husband and I didn’t write our own vows at our wedding but we have one core belief that holds us together. If you fight you only have two options: make up or break up. So figure out what you want the end result to be and get there fast. Life is too short to be bitter all the time.

Judge How I Raise My Children
I do not spend time with my kids playing candyland. I occasionally use the television as a teacher and babysitter. My oldest was three and a half before she used the potty chair. Stop telling me she should have been potty trained sooner. Stop telling me my kids will be broken if I don’t spend more time with them. They’ll be fine. If they’re not, that is my issue, not yours. You won’t be here to help me if one of my kids becomes a methhead.

But you know what? My kids see me WORK every day. They know being home doesn’t mean I’m sitting on my butt eating bon-bons all day. You think that won’t rub off? You think they won’t work for summer vacations from school at home with me if they so choose? My kids are going to know how to make, save, and invest money by the time they are thirteen.

So judge me and my parenting all you want. My kids will have the money to afford therapy, because they’ll have the work ethic to make that money and the smarts to know how to invest it. Bug off.

Be Rabid and Judgmental When I Ask A Question
I’m an undecided voter. I’m trying to ask real questions to get real answers. When I ask you about taxes and how to know what a candidate thinks, that is not an excuse to talk about whatever issue you want that makes you sound like you know what you’re talking about. When I ask what this issue or that issue is, that is not a reason to tell me I’m stupid if I don’t vote for your candidate. It makes you an ignorant moron that doesn’t understand how to answer simple questions.

OH WOW!!!

That felt so good. I could never say those things on my blog. I could never say them here if Karen wasn’t amazing enough to let me say them all secret squirrel style.

I’m almost in tears I’m so relieved.

Thank you Karen, and thank you blogosphere, for letting me get that off of my chest.

I know, I know, I’ve been trying to write this post for a week. I mean, I wrote two other posts. But I think that was because I was writing a letter and then a comment and they kind of got away from me and seemed like they would be good posts. I mean really honestly though, I feel like I was cheating. They weren’t “real” posts. They were extensions of something else I was doing.

Excuses? I don’t know. Guilt? My family is Jewish, I’m awesome at guilt. Whatever. What I really should be talking about is how I can’t get it together.

I am sad.

My grandmother is the first person really close to me that I have lost. I know I am lucky. I know I am glad she is no longer sick, scared or in pain. I also know that I’m not bouncing back like I think I should. I’ve got 3 posts I want to write (1st day of school, my tweightloss update & one environmentalist thing) , but all I can do is administrative stuff for Pecked by Ducks and Karen’s Kitsch, tweet and play spider solitaire or Civ III (I know, not even the new version ‘cause I can’t be bothered to go out and get it.)

We used to wear black for a year and cover the mirrors and stop the clocks. Children knew to be quiet around and gentle with people in black. There used to be a space in our society for people who can’t quite pull it together yet. But not so anymore. I tear up at stupid things. I keep re-reading my post. I hold my kids while they sleep. I feel tender, vague, distant. I have no patience for myself. It annoys me that I can’t focus, get things done, concentrate. I am NOT a person who doesn’t get things done. I have been in the same pajamas since Monday night.

I am on a diet. I HATE diets! This one was prescribed by my doctor and was designed to improve cardiac health by a cardiologist. I hate not eating fruit and whole grains. I like complaining about hating my diet, while I am sad. It feels more satisfyingly wrong (i.e. better to rant about) to be on a diet when one is sad. I do like recipes though. And I like thinking about all the things I am going to make and eat once I am allowed.

So here we go…I am way too excited to break out this Curry Pumpkin Pie recipe! I actually use delicata squash, but pumpkin works great too. I made it up while trying to figure out a lactose free recipe for a friend. I was using coconut milk instead of cream or sweetened condensed or evaporated and then (my spices aren’t labeled, I pick by smell) I grabbed the curry instead of the cinnamon on accident. The scent inspired me. I went through a bunch of variations, including some lime juice <bleck!> and up to 1 Tablespoon of curry <too hot!>, but finally as goldilocks would say, I got it “just right!” I hope you love this as much as I do!

Curry Pumpkin Pie

1 batch of Martha Stewart’s pâté brisée Why reinvent the wheel when it is already perfect.

15 oz delicata squash puree or 1 can pumpkin.

1 egg and 1 yolk (you can freeze the white for later, maybe a pavlova?)

1 can coconut milk

1 tsp curry

1 tsp cinnamon

3/4 cup evaporated cane juice or sugar if you don’t have

• Make pâté brisée pie crust, and place in refrigerator
• After at least 1 hour, preheat oven to 350°
• Roll out dough and place in pie plate and crimp edges
• Mix in a bowl all ingredients and pour into pie crust.
• Bake for 45 minutes and then start checking every 10 minutes until toothpick comes out damp but clean. Cool before serving. Add a generous dollop of real whipped cream if desired.

Tip and notes:

Shake the pie gently after 45 minutes. If the center is jiggley, you don’t need to stick in a toothpick, it definitely needs more time.

I call this pumpkin pie, and you can totally use pumpkin, even out of a can (please go organic if you do) but I really like steaming or boiling delicata squash and using that instead. The flavor is more, well, delicate. I use an immersion blender to make the puree very smooth and if it is too watery, I drain it in cheese cloth for 15 minutes or so.

Use regular coconut milk not light. Light is just 50% water. You are eating butter, sugar, eggs etc. It’s a treat. Use the regular coconut milk.

Use good quality curry and cinnamon it does make a difference.

For the pâté brisée, I use King Arthur flour. It is the only white all purpose flour that is not enriched, because it is ground in a way that does not leach out all of it’s nutrients. It is the best (works in all recipes) commercially available flour there is.

Classy Mommy, is holding a Flip video camera give away and has asked:

I totally want a flip video camera (saw gregoryng’s at his house last weekend) and I figured, I’ve got some good tips, so I started writing. And writing… and writing. Pretty soon I had all kinds of wacky tips and tricks, so I decided to post them here for you. This is what I wrote in her comments.

For online shopping, before I check out, I always google the store + coupon. So for example “llbean coupon”. I can usually always find at least free shipping, if not 5% - 20% off. Sometimes you can even combine and get free shipping AND a percentage off.

I also only buy recycled content/soy ink wrapping paper/cards etc so I buy them and real ribbons whenever they are 75% off or more and save them for when I need em.

I also shop almost exclusively at www.etsy.com for gifts. I am a jewelry designer, so I make a lot of my gifts, but when I don’t, etsy is the place for me. The prices are crazy good, you are supporting artists and SAHMs and the variety and selection is shockingly good. Disclaimer: I also have a shop on etsy. You are of course welcome to shop there (Karen’s Kitsch) but I am talking about the site in general. I particularly like a shop called babypop, for children’s birthdays. A personalized, handmade superhero cape for $13 and $3.25 S&H. The best gift at the party for under $20.

I also try to always bring my own bags to the grocery store, but when I forget, I ask for paper. I cut the bags and use them for wrapping paper. I watch for crazy good real ribbon sales and collect them. Brown with lime green ribbon or fucha is super mod looking. Also, the kids can decorate the paper themselves for friends and you don’t have to get a card (which is more $ and might get lost) plus it is super personal. This has always been a great crowd pleaser.

Another way I saved money and the environment this year was by doing something a little different for the goody bags for my son’s birthday parties. Generally, I hate goodie bags. I have to go through them and throw out the candy and then watch all those junky toys like a hawk for breakages (like 1 or 2 days max) and then throw those away too. Plus it costs like $5 - $10 a pop (for the cheap junky ones) to buy the bags, the candy and the plastic toys. So instead, I bought 64 count boxes of crayola crayons ($2.89 each @ Target) for my 5 year old’s friends and 8 count crayola washable markers ($3.49 each @ Target) for my 3 year old’s friends. I wrapped them in paper I had purchased at 80% off (less than 1 roll for all) and made stickers (Avery 8233) on my computer with each child’s name, thanking them for coming. Yes it took a little time to design the stickers, but I think it was a gift that was actually appreciated, and I didn’t feel like I was spending too much or selling out by buying all that plastic junk.

This is what the sticker looked like.

Here was the spread. We had pizza, greek salad, fruit salad, a ladybug carrot cake for Max and a monster Chocolate cake for Quinn.

Close-up of the gifties.

Max’s Ladybug cake.

Quinn’s Monster Cake.

See? All sorts of fab tips and tricks!