Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I considered blogging about something controversial tonight; it’s possible I still might in the future, but I can’t bring myself to go there right now.  My baby girl is cutting her two bottom teeth while battling an unpleasant cold and sporting chapped, eczema-y cheeks that make me wince whenever I look at them, which adds up to still not very much sleep for me.  Controversy is best tackled when reasonably well-rested.

And that, my friends, is why I’m eschewing it tonight (thanks to Mr. Lenihan, may he rest in peace) in favor of grammar, which is what Cece Bell’s I Yam a Donkey is about (more or less).  This cautionary tale features a grammatically-challenged donkey and a pedantic yam, whose obsessive focus on correct grammar proves myopic in the end.  (Now I just can’t help it.  And really, the yam does serve as a bellwether of sorts…)  The first Amazon review listed accuses Bell of continuing the joke for too long; I can appreciate where the reviewer is coming from, but I think the twist at the end begs for a long lead-in.  I laughed out loud at the unexpectedness of it and my girlies enjoyed it as well–which is, of course, the consummation devoutly to be wished for by any children’s author worth his or her salt. (Kudos to Mrs. Mumford for that one–may she also ever rest in peace.)

Fellow grammar sticklers–you really ought to buy this one.

It is my sad duty to report that today’s post options have not materialized.  Because TEETHING.

I do hope to be back on the 7th (then again, my kids have GUMS OF STEEL).  In the meantime, remember, remember the 5th of November.

Signing off.

Once upon a time, when my friend Andrea and I used to cook together, we tried this Taste of Home recipe for Pineapple Mallow Slaw.  Really, we were BOTH into it, so maybe it’s not as weird as my hubby probably thinks; it’s a (very) tangy salad with shredded cabbage, pineapple tidbits, Craisins, mini-marshmallows, and a mayonnaise-based (but still vinegar-y) dressing.  (I’m pretty sure we tried this in my coleslaw phase; I went through a bunch of slaw recipes from Taste of Home and then bought a cabbage or two and we tried the ones that sounded best.)

Now, before you bail at the idea of cabbage in a mayo-based dressing, let me assure you that I loathe KFC coleslaw.  (My dad loves it.)  The sweet mayo vibe creeps me out, and when I try it periodically, thinking surely this is better than I remember it being, I always conclude that NO.  No it isn’t.  I had all of these recipes from Taste of Home, however, and I decided that I couldn’t chuck them without experimenting with other styles of slaw, because there might be something good out there.  Enter–this recipe.  It’s tangy, it’s crunchy, it’s tart, it’s sweet–it’s lovely.  (It’s also, by the way, best made with 2/3 of the amount of dressing it calls for.  The cabbage provides plenty of liquid as it chills; it would be SWIMMING in the full amount.  Trust me on this.)  I found some other keepers as well, but it’s this one I finally made on Halloween because I WANTED it, dang it, and hey, I had to bring a salad to a friend’s son’s baptism anyway.

I ate all of the leftovers myself.

Normally we get out more decorations for Halloween.  I’m not exactly known for my immaculate housekeeping, of course, so what we do and how long it lasts varies from year to year, but there are generally decorations in multiple rooms; last year we even had an outside spiderweb, with spiders.

This year?  Ummm…

First of all, we lost the last week and a half of September and the first bit of October to vomit–lots of it–and other unpleasant bodily substances.  (At one point four of us were throwing up on the same night, and it’s only thanks to my sister’s wisdom and a box and a half of baking soda that our couch is usable again.)  By the time my oldest stopped having tummy aches off and on (it was one evil virus, let me tell you what), I was stressing about going out of town, because my parents went back to New England for a 50th wedding anniversary trip, and my sister masterminded a surprise that involved all three of their children showing up and joining them for a weekend.  (Props to my fabulous mother-in-law for taking my kiddos while my hubby worked.  The reveal was everything we could have hoped for–my mother cried.)  I stressed about packing for myself, I stressed about packing up my kiddos (it was fall break, meaning the cousins were also out of school, meaning that it was not going to go well to have my mother-in-law stay here instead), and I got up every night with a baby who seems to be teething like my oldest did.  (In case you were wondering, this is  NOT.  A.  GOOD.  THING.)  When I got back, my hubby had to have an emergency root canal, and then there was the unpacking…

Yeah.  Decorations mostly didn’t happen.  Somewhere along the way, however, I started grabbing Halloween books off the library displays with abandon, and so this became, instead, the Year of the Halloween Books.  (In case you’re wondering, at one point we had 197 library books checked out and in our house somewhere.)  It seemed like a workable alternative to some of our usual traditions, and overall it was a success; a few were duds, of course, but many were cute, and some were fabulous.

One of my favorites was also a huge hit with my oldest; girlie #2 was a little young, both in years and in temperament, to enjoy it this year.  Adam Rex’s book of poems about all sorts of Halloween monsters is delightfully named Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich (And Other Stories You’re Sure to Like, Because They’re All About Monsters, And Some of Them are Also About Food.  You Like Food, Don’t You?  Well, All Right Then.)

Got that?

Seriously, these are some fabulous poems.  Frankenstein makes that sandwich with food the townspeople throw at him; the Phantom of the Opera can’t get “It’s a Small World After All” out of his head; Dracula has spinach in his teeth and everyone’s afraid to tell him; and Bigfoot is incensed at being called Yeti.  The illustrations only add to the craziness, making the book as a whole a delight for the middle- and latter-elementary crowd.  SIAS?  (Which stands for summary in a sentence, and comes from E. L. Konigsburg’s incredible Silent to the Bone, in case you’re wondering.)

Add this one to your Halloween collection.