First of all, thanks so much for the GREAT ideas on the last post, where I admitted that I had lost all hope of my family ever being happy with the same dish.  I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the “get the kid involved” thing.. DUR.. because he and I used to make pizzas a lot.  And he ate them.  Happily.  Ditto with tacos.  So I’ve got some fresh ammo for the coming weekend.

Fall is upon us.  Well, rather, winter is.  After a weekend of 70 degree temps, we woke up yesterday morning to temps in the low 40s.  Which, in Alabama, is as cold as we comfortably get.  Anything colder than that is cause for ice trucks, school closings, and the rush on the grocery stores for BREAD and MILK.  And TOILET PAPER. 

Binja was ready.  Unfortunately, he had a bit of a growth spurt.

Not so Itty-Bitty Binja

Notice how the neckline of the jacket hits his cheekbone?  That’s a 12 Month jacket.  My child is not yet eleven months.  He is a bit large.  We fear his wrath.

ARGH BINJA MAD BINJA SMASH.

My mother also bought him a PRECIOUS Sesame Street outfit from Costco, also 12 months.  We cannot get the sweatshirt over his head.  Ginormous, that one.  Quite the mellon.

He gets that from his daddy, obviously.  I have a pea head.  Ra said so.

It’s funny how the size of my child seems to vary throughout the day.  Any parent can agree with me on this one.  He’s big when he gets up, and gets immeasurably heavy around five or six at night, but right about his last bottle, when he cuddles under my chin, he gets feather-light.  I could hold him forever at night.

You wanna know what the funniest thing is EVER?  How happy and confident some new clothes have made me feel.  I was incredibly naive and SWORE I’d be back in my prematernity wardrobe by the winter, but I was too small to wear what I bought last year when I returned to work post-partem, so when the chilly weather hit, I was up shit creek.  In a sundress.  Sundresses and sandals do not serve me well in 44 degree mornings, especially when I work for the gubment who does not fully support heat. (Vote Obama!  He loves heat!)

(That’s the closest thing you’ll find to politics on here, by the way.)

So I begged Bryan to PUHLEEZE let me go spend some money on clothes.  I’m sure he was all “SHE’S GOT SO MANY CLOTHES THAT SHE CAN’T PUT THEM ALL AWAY AT ANY GIVEN TIME” and he’d be right, but instead he said, “Sure, honey.  Do what you gotta do.”

Which is why he went to Decatur that night.

Anyways, I ran over to Kohl’s and picked up a few things.  Seriously.. A pair of pants and two sweaters. (And a Curious George for Binja.) And the next day, I wore the new pants and new sweater to work and?  And?  I felt like a million bucks.  I felt like the old Sarah.  Not the old, nasty, saggy post-partem Sarah I’ve felt like for ten months, but the happy, confident, go-get-’em Sarah from 2005.

Sounds silly, I know.  But seriously.  It’s a fact.  It’s indisputable.

The bad news is that I only bought two sweaters and it’s been cold for more than two days.  So I’ve bookmarked what clothes I need to get for my next trip (i.e. two more pants and three more sweaters), so maybe I can get back to looking a bit more polished at work and less like a hobo.

And a Sarah that feels good at work?  Definitely continues feeling that good at home.

(Honey, you hear that?  More clothes = more trips to Decatur.)

(I kid. A little.)

We’ve hit a bump in the road of “bonus” parenting.

My stepson, The Boy, does not like home cooked food.

Admittedly, neither does his father.  His father is one of the more picky eaters I’ve EVER met, and not even because he’s a food snob; no, it’s more that his upbringing was based around two food groups: FRIED and MEAT.  Well, maybe three groups.  There is fried meat, after all.

When we first started dating, we ate out a lot.  I think Bryan made chicken parmesan for me once, but that was a trial for him as well.  For the most part, we ate Thai food, Chinese take-out, and Italian.  Always out.  After all, I don’t cook.  Never have.  That’s WOMEN’S work.

And we’re partly to blame for his aversion to home-cooked meals; typically, when it’s a weekend with him, we tend to eat out a lot.  We’re usually on the go with sporting events or family outtings, so eating out is just more efficient.  BUT, times are not what they were.  So we’re having some growing pains.

Really and truly, I know it’s hard.  He grew up with his momma’s cookin’, and everyone thinks their momma’s cookin’ is the best EVAR.  So no matter what I serve up, it’s gonna be against that standard.  Strike one.  Also, we eat pretty healthy in our house: lots of veggies, everything from scratch, baked and not fried.  Strike two.  And we’ve also taking to eating at the dinner table, versus the tv.  Strike two and a half.

We had chicken parmesan alfredo over angel hair pasta with herbs and oil on Saturday night.  Nope, no thanks.  Had a few bites, but decided he just wasn’t hungry.  Sunday night, we had grilled italian sausage hoagies with sauteed zucchini and squash.  He had a bite of each but declared the meal “too italian”.  He didn’t like the fresh sausage we had with our pancakes one morning.  Even the PB&J I made for him on Friday night post-football game wasn’t up to standard; he said the white bread “tastes like wheat”.

Readers, help moi.  I need failsafe meal options to make at home that a picky eight year old (and thirty-something-year-old) will like.  Thoughts?

(Tonight, we’re having slow-cooked pulled pork bbq.  And I made a KICK-ASS pumpkin pie yesterday.)

Hey, emo kid with badly dyed hair: if you insist on stopping in the MIDDLE OF THE FREAKIN CROSSWALK to check your text message, I reserve all rights to run your scrawny ass over.  Also: women’s skinny jeans look retarded on men.  Get a clue.

***

Showered, blow dried, and coiffed my hair this morning.  Only to realize, once I got to work, that my umbrella has been lodged into the rails of my car seat.  1/2 mile walk in the rain into work: FAIL on the hairdo.

***

The Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate I raved about a day or two ago?  Is not as good in a venti size.  You lose the saltedness.  Keep it in a grande or tall size for maximum kick-ass flavor.

***

I hateHATEhate football tournament season.  We had umpteen million fun things to do this weekend, but all of them have been cancelled due to practices/games/banquets/etc.  Well, Binja and I will still be doing all of the fun things, but I was SO looking forward to getting pictures at the pumpkin patch with BOTH boys, you know?

***

I lit the fireplace by myself last night.  This was a giant occasion because I hate all things fire. (Well, I take that back; I LOVE fireplaces. Just not lighting them. Especially gas logs. Could go boom. Big bada boom.) But it was so nice and cozy and I braved death to get there.  I am so bad ass.

***

Everyone’s been asking and I’ve sucked for not addressing it: Yes, Binja got his orthotic/brace a few weeks back.  At first, he completely ignored that leg while it was on (it essentially became a “dead leg” while he was wearing it), but since he’s gotten more accustomed to it. 

Seen here as Shoeless Binja

 Since he got the brace, he’s been cruising all over the place.  I suppose that’s what it’s called, anyway.. walking while holding on to furniture?  He’s all over the house now, and I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before he takes the car keys from us and heads to Mexico while chugging the Boone’s Farm.

***

It’s been one of those weeks where Bryan and I have not seen eachother since last Sunday.  And the weekend is shaping up to where we will be ships passing in the night as well.  I think we should make a date night plan for next week so we can, you know, see eachother again.  Are there any movies out that we should see?