Dogs in a sweater

Introducing!!! Dogs in a Sweater, the more fun, interesting and tasty version of pigs in a blanket. Actually, I found this idea somewhere else, but have changed it to use my bread recipe, which was passed to me from my mother in law. It is the best bread recipe I have ever, ever come across for just bread rolls, biscuits, and now, dogs in a sweater. So, here is what you will need-

Hot dogs
Popsicle sticks (I found some in the art section of Smiths ;) )

And bread, using the following recipe:

Bread-stick/Biscuits Recipe

1 cup WARM water
2 tbs sugar
2 tbs yeast
1 tsp salt
2 tbs oil
3 cups flour

Preheat over to 450

Mix water, sugar, yeast, salt, and oil together. Let sit for about 5 minutes to let yeast bubble.
Slowly (1 cup at a time) add flour, mixing well. The last cup usually needs to be added by hand.

Take hot dogs, and skewer with popsicle sticks. Leave as much as you want for a handle.
Take dough, make "snake" about 16 inches long (depending on your hot dog) and starting at the top, wrap around to the bottom.

Bake for 5-8 minutes, until bread is golden brown. DO NOT OVER COOK! It is possible to burn the popsicle sticks and light them on fire...which is our next recipe: Roasted Dogs in a Sweater.


But actually, I adore this bread recipe. It is just awesome, and it is also the bread I use when I make Stromboli. Delicious!!!

 

SkippyJon Jones and other choices

I know, I am blogging 2 days in a row, it is crazy to me too. Mainly this occurred to me, and I wanted to write it down and also, our computer is up and running, thus why I am able to post and also why Zach has made a facebook reappearance. You are welcome, world!

So Bishop has come to an age that his little independence is sometimes stifling. For us as parents, that is. Actually, stifle is the wrong word. He is getting fairly mouthy. A perfect example is that we will be all together in the car, and he will be saying, "Hey Dad, hey Dad, hey Dad, hey Dad" While Zach is talking to me about something, and I will finally cut in with, "What, Bishop?" And he promptly replies, "NO! I'm talkin' to DAD"

Ahem. That is a good example. He has also recently decided that he is the ruler of his own life. Which, to a point, we do allow him to pick things. For example, yesterday, we were spending a Barnes and Noble gift card he got, and I really wanted him to get a certain book (The Story of Ferdinand) and he decided that he wanted to get a different book. That we had never read before and knew nothing about. BUT the book came with a little super-hero cat action figure. THAT was the selling point. And because it was a set, it was all boxed up so I couldn't even glance though to book to be sure it was something we would like. Bishop, however, insisted THAT was the book he absolutely needed. The book is called SkippyJon Jones, and it turns out that it is actually really funny and cute.

It is about a little Siamese cat named SkippyJon who pretends to be a dog and save the day for this other group of little dogs whose beans were all stolen by a bumblebee. It basically makes everything sound Hispanic by adding a 'o' to the end of most words. Here is an example:

Then the smallest of the small ones spoke up.
"Why the maskito, dude?" asked Poquito Tito
"I go incognito," said Skippito.
"Do you like rice and beans?" asked Pintolito.
"Si, I love mice and beans," said Skippito.
"He might be the dog of our dreams," whispered Rosalita.


You see what I am saying here. It is a cute book, and pretty funny, but not the book of my choice. And because it was a card for Bishop...well, whatever, obviously I let him pick. I also bought The Story of Ferdinand, mainly because I wanted it, and I knew that Bishop would actually really like it better (because I am the mom, and know things like that).

Then comes the worst part. Bishop has now decided that he should get to pick out his own clothes. He usually does okay, but today, for example, he is wearing these sweats that are a 3T, meaning, too short, and a 4T shirt, which is fine, but it makes his pants look extra small. And he INSISTED that he needed to wear those pants. Not shorts, not a different pair of pants. Those ones. And I realized a few minutes ago that he looks like a little homeless boy, with his hair a little crazy from his nap, and his too small pants and normal sized shirt. And he is old enough that I can't just change his clothes if I don't like them.

Though, to be honest, if they were really bad and we were going somewhere, I would force the issue. But we are just playing in the backyard, and why not let him pick out his own clothes? The point of this whole blog is that Bishop is growing up and become autonomous, and it makes me sad.

The End.

Awkward moments from the past revisited.

I only have a moment to write this, as Cadence is insisting that we have a dance party in her room and WILL NOT take 'no' for an answer. So she is sobbing at my feet in the meantime.

I had a quick run-in with a guy today that made an impression in my past. Do I mean an old boyfriend? Of course not. I mean a guy I met in a bowling ally while engaged to Zach that just wouldn't leave me, Zach, or Zach's buddy and his date alone. Literally. Here is the story.

Many moons ago (closing in on 8 years ago, sheesh) Zach and I, in an effort to find something to do in Twin Falls, Idaho, while dating/being engaged, would often go to the bowling ally in Twin Falls to play pool. It was the only place with pool tables and very few drunks ;) So one night, there we are, waiting for a table to open up up, canoodling on some stools, when this guy in a wheelchair rolls up (ahem, literally.) and tells us that he has been watching us. And that we look like good kissers, and how someday, he hopes that he will have a girl like me to kiss. And do I have a twin (this really happened, ask Zach) that he could meet.

We mumble our way through this incredibly awkward conversation while this guy refuses to leave, and keeps talking about how pretty I am, how nice my smile is, how sure am I that I don't have a twin...you get the point. He FINALLY leaves when we get a table, and we think we are safe. A buddy of Zach's from some distant past/fellow youth member/church goer...you get the idea, and his date run into us. They are on their first date, and when she wanders off to go to the bathroom or something along those lines (having never met her before, I wasn't under the "go with her to the bathroom" rule), he tells us that the date is going good, but that she is LDS, and there have been some awkward moments. She comes back, we are all talking, and who should come by? That's right, wheelchair guy. He then dominates the conversation, awkwardly talking about how he doesn't really date, but would like to (while staring me and this girl down) and that he is just looking for the right girl (staring....). Somehow it comes out that he is also LDS and he and the girl start chatting away. I don't really remember the specifics past this, other than that he wouldn't leave, basically hijacked this poor guys first date, and we all left at the same time to escape him.

Zach and I joked about this guy for a LONG time afterwards, and never ran into him again at the bowling alley, thankfully. Basically anytime we saw a guy in a wheelchair, we booked it out of there.

Fast forward to today, and it has been years since I have even thought about this guy. So I am stopped at a stop light on my way home from hanging out with Jemme, and who should roll across the crosswalk in front of me? WHEELCHAIR GUY!!! My window is down, and he says, "Hey, how you doin'?" to which I mumble, "Good" realizing that it is the same guy!!! Then...what does he say?!?!
"You have a really nice smile"

I rolled up my window at this point and drove off. UH...really wheelchair guy?

I am under no belief that he remember who I am. I may have called Zach right away to tell him what happened...because, really!? What are the chances! And that he would make awkward comments again?!

Luckily I wasn't kissing anyone, because we know where that conversation would have gone.

As a side note, I am currently addicted to Christina Perri's A Thousand Years and have listened to it over and over for the last couple of days. Ah.

Also, in the time it has taken me to write this, Cadence fell asleep on my lap, I changed her into PJ's and put her into bed. Dance party postponed until tomorrow. I did just buy her a CD player for her room, thus the need to dance (since there is music, there must be dancing). I love my girl.

The trouble with trash

We have long struggled with our trash can. Mainly that it has a cabinet that it belongs in, fits in perfectly, is wonderfully out of sight, but somehow is never in it's home. I blame the baby locks. In order to open the door, you really have to use 2 hands, and honestly, if you are holding trash in one hand (drippy something that you are cooking with...you get the idea) that is really not possible. So the trash is often pulled out of its handy home to live, and sits conspicuously next to the fridge, one of the counters, the sink...depending on where it is needed. All this hasn't been too big of an issue (other than for my own grumbling that it is never put away) until Miss Cadence came along.

Now, understand that our house is baby proof. There are baby gates, cabinet locks, and plug in covers everywhere. There is a baby gate in the doorway to our kitchen, which often has a hot oven and MANY other dangers. Since Cadence has gotten a tad older (basically not the 9 month old she was when she started terrorizing...I mean, walking) we have been pretty lax with that baby gate into the kitchen. And this is where the trouble with trash comes in. The girl loves the trash can.

She get's that from her father, as I am sure you can imagine. If there is old food in the trash can, she tries to eat it. I can't tell you the number of times she has come wandering out of the kitchen, munching on something, when there is nothing she should be eating available. Gross. She likes to sort through everything in the trash. If not monitored, she will get in there, pull out any paper like product she can find, and then happily hide it around the house. And by hide, of course I mean she makes an easily traceable trail that eventually leads to her like bread crumbs. Clearly it would never be bread crumbs, because she would have just eaten the bread.

You are getting the idea here. A couple of days ago, she and I had a sit down talk, which was as big of a hit as a sit down talk with a 15 month old can go.

Meaning it didn't work. At all. And she basically ignored me the whole time and ended the conversation with a resounding "HI!" as only she can do.

I made the decision to just keep the trash where it belongs, which solves ALL of the trash issues. As I am sure you can imagine, the trash can is currently sitting next to the counter. Happily living outside it's home. I also made another discovery today.

Cadence likes to put things in there. Anything she is done with, she happily walks to the trash can and puts in. Not sure if she is just saving it for later, or if she is FINALLY getting the "Trash is for yuckies" talk we had. This morning, I found her fork from breakfast (obviously she was done eating, and just doing her part to clean up.). After lunch, I had a washcloth that I wiped her face and hands off with, which she then took from me, wiped her face again (cute) and wandered into the kitchen. I followed her, and watched her then put it in the trash. She then turned, saw me, and clapped.

HURRAH for Cadence!!!!

It was actually pretty cute. But just drove home, again, the need to put the trash can where it belongs. That way she doesn't throw away everything she is done with (toys, clothes, Bishop, Etc). So, off I go to put the trash can where it belongs, though a nap would be a nice before I get to that. Hmmmmm

Such a girl

Of course, I am talking about my daughter. Who is, hands down, the girliest little girl I have ever seen. I don't have another to compare her to, but she is the epitome of what you expect a little girl to be like. For example, she has a thing for baby dolls. She takes her baby (which she is the proud mommy to several, since we were inundated with them over her birthday/Christmas), wraps it in a receiving blanket, and carries it around the house patting it's back. Which is actually really cute.

She also loves jewelry. I really can't blame the girl, she has excellent taste, and happens to steal from me (the downside of this cuteness :/ ) on a daily basis. She currently has a necklace that she always wears that hangs to about her knees. She loves it. She was also wearing one of my scarves around this morning with her necklace.

She screams when I cut her nails but adores having them painted and will sit still for as long as it takes to get them all done. She also likes having her hair washed (who blames her?) and brushed, and played with. Makes it handy when I am putting her hair up, since she will just stand for me until it is all done.

Cadence also operates under the impression that she is the family social director. She insists on saying "Hi" to anyone we come across, and needs to get up close and personal with anyone who comes over to our house. She is a champion at giving hugs and air kisses.

I think you get the girl vibe we are dealing with here. It's all pink hearts and flowers. Until we start talking about the drama.

This girl is so over dramatic. I honestly don't even know how to handle her some times. She overreacts to everything. Is she happy? She is SO happy. Sad? She is SOBBING in sadness. Hurt? She is the most injured person on the face of the WORLD!

And often, she is frustrated, which is common for her age developmentally. But she doesn't just get frustrated. She is the kid who throws herself on the floor. Literally, she will just stop holding herself up, and flop on the floor. When she first started, I thought she had maybe tripped, because that's what it looks like. There isn't a lot of thrashing or screaming. She just tosses herself on the floor. And waits for someone to notice. It's when it gets ignored (often) that she flips her lid.

She has also recently started screaming. Not because she is hurt, angry, frustrated, tired...just because she likes the way it sounds. It is more of a squeal than a scream, I guess. Either way, I am going to get a water bottle and start house training her like a puppy if she doesn't stop yipping.

That might actually not be an awful idea...

It is funny to me that both of my children, who are great friends, are the explanation of their gender. Bishop is such a little boy, Cadence is a petite little girl. Makes me wonder if we ever had more, if we would end up with a tomboy or if we would continue with the extremes.

Cadence is currently squealing at me to re-swaddle her baby. Off I go.

Trashy towns and other thoughts

So I have been toying with the idea for about a month now to split into 2 separate blogs. One that is about parenting, and one that is about me...as just a person, not just a mommy. Several things have yet to fall into place for me to do this

1. The "parenting" blog does not have a name...

2. I haven't actually written enough in the last couple of years to necessitate 2 blogs, it just sounds cool.

3. I am not sure that the blog about me would have all that much on it. Because my life is wrapped in my family...so how do you seperate that?

Until I get these pressing matter solved (actually, until I come up with a name I like), this blog will still contain my meanderings about kids, husbands, life in general, and small trashy towns like Wendell, ID.

Which brings me to my second topic of the night. Wendell, ID.

Once Upon A Time, I lived in Wendell. Well, actually I lived just over the county line between Jerome and Wendell. The difference this made was that we would occasionally venture into Wendell for some light shopping. Which brings me to today (for the record, I did not venture into Wendell from Twin for some light shopping. That would be ridiculous.) So this is what happened.

Everyday, before leaving Gooding, I go to the bathroom. My body is trained like that. Well, today, I was sidetracked by the million things that I was in charge of and didn't go the the bathroom. I stumbled out to my car, got in, and by the time I reached Wendell, my body reminded me that I was supposed to have gone before I ever left. So I pulled into what used to be the little grocery store in Wendell, Simerlys. ( The spelling looks WAY off there. But that is at least phonetically correct. ) I found the bathroom after a silly amount of wandering. After getting the job done, so to speak, I decided I was a tad parched, and grabbed a drink for the rest of my drive home. And this is where the real story starts.

The people in front of me were having a dispute over the actual cost of a veggie platter. They were under the impression that it was $3.99 even though it rang up at $7.99. So off the lady and the clerk went to get the real price. Apparently, the people just didn't actually read the sign, and to their embarrassment, as well as with many apologies, they decided to forgo the $7.99 veggie platter that, according to them, they were going to make a salad with (??Don't question the locals??) So I pay for my drink, during which, the previous gentleman came back to request a couple additional bags (??), and as I am walking out, I hear the girl who was in front of me tell the guy that the lady at the deli glared at her when she asked for the price. "She glared at you?" He asked. "Yes, a real mean glare, too" she answered.

"Where is she, I'm going to fight her"

Now, there are several things to just get out of that one sentence. Here is this guy, asking where a girl is that he is planning on fighting. A guy. Going to fight a girl. Who glared at his girlfriend/wife/significant other. Um. Yep.

But really. Coming from a guy, that was one of the most epic lines I have ever heard.

Where is she? I'm going to fight her.

Really I should have followed them back to see what happened. In all reality, the poor clerk that they are talking about probably had no idea that she glared (I often do this, really it is me thinking, but I happen to be looking in the direction of someone, thus, I "glared" at them) at this girl. And I wonder what the guy's plan here was? Walk up and deck her? Just straight punch her in the face? Even writing that feels weird. Anyways, just a note that if you are ever in Wendell, don't look too long at the natives. They don't take too kindly to the "glaring"

Interview with a 3-year-old

Being the ever cool Mommy that I am (Ahem) and in an effort to keep track of how darn cute my children are in their formative years (really cute), I decided to have a one on one interview with Bishop this evening after dinner, but before teeth brushing time. Let the record show that this interview was conducted in the living room, and only included one break out session of running in circles and flipping upside down on the couch. Thus, a very sedate interview.

1. What is your name?

Bishop

2. How old are you?

3

3. What color is your hair?

4, 5, 6. (No. What COLOR?)

Oh..um...black

4. What color are your eyes?

Blue

5. What is your favorite food?

Pizza

6. What is your favorite song?

Ring around the Rosie, and Spidar (the Itsy-Bitsy Spidar)

Because then I fall down.

7. What is your favorite snack?

Pickles

8. What is your favorite color?

Black

9. What is your favorite animal?

Horses...Black horses (aka Black Beauty)

10. What is your favorite book?

Three Piggies...and the Momma Pig

11. What do you like to do with Daddy?

Hm...Daddys names Zach. (but what do you DO with daddy?)

Hm...I like to swing on him. And hit on him

12. What do you like to do with Mommy?

Names Krissy. (DO, Bishop, what do you DO with Mommy?)

I hit on Mommy.

13. What's your favorite movie?

Blues Clues (which we watched earlier)

14. Whats your favorite TV show? (after much prompting on what a TV show is)

Sesame Street

15. Who are your friends?

Robert and Sam. And Jasper. Maci. Diego. Cameron

16. What's your favorite shape?

Doggie. No. Cow.

17. What's your favorite Drink?

Chocolate milk and water. I drink all the water.