Posts Tagged ‘food’

Mushy cookies, naked nighttime bike riding, and other pleasant ways to spend your time.

October 23, 2012

Okay, remember when I asked you all what to do on a day when you are stuck at home? We love being at home, but it is nice to spice things up now and then.

This morning we made what can only be described as banana porridge, but we called them mushy cookies. Give each kid a bowl and a banana. They use bare hands to totally pulverise the thing (great fun!), then toss in a handful or so of oats for them to mix in. We also did raisins. It occurred to me afterward all the other great spices and things we could have added, but there you are: bananas, raisins, oats. Plop into a muffin pan (don’t know what it’s called. A tray with little holes for muffins in it), cook a bit at a reasonable temp, and away you go.

Ours came out like a thick amazingly tasty porridge, though when TMD does this exact thing it comes out as flapjacks.

We waited for the tray to cool off and just ate with spoons! So. Tasty. Like unbelievably delicious. And a filling, healthy morning snack (we also had apples as a side) that should keep us going easily until lunchtime.

The other good thing? Just following your kids’ lead. Like if it is dark outside and misty with rain, and your daughter is naked except for slippers and a superhero cape, why NOT go on a bike ride? The kids rode round and round the cul de sac while we ambled along behind. It was really lovely, so much so that we were back on our bikes in the mist this morning….but no one was naked this time.

So. Those are my two contributions to the ‘what do we do all day’ discussion. I’ve just ordered wellies off amazon, though I am famous for not getting on well with shoes I have not tried on, but I’ve caved and realise that rubber boots are just what I need. Ugh. But also, hopefully, awesome! More muddy fun to follow, no doubt.

Morning pizza dough making….hopefully leading to tasty focaccia this afternoon!

August 20, 2012


Personality swap.

May 22, 2012


I’m turning into June Cleaver. First carrot money, then kale crisp (oh my GOD delicious!), now sweet potato fries. Complemented by a spinach, hummus, and tomato sandwich. See? June.

Things you should know.

November 12, 2010

One, I’m psychic. Last night/this morning I had a dream that we found the square piece that fits in the shape sorter. That happy bastard has been missing for so long I was starting to wonder if we’d ever owned it. This morning TMD said, ‘Hey, guess what. I found the square.’

One and a half, last year she was telling me all about some work conference she’d been on. I stopped her and said, ‘I am trying to listen to you, but I keep seeing the colour turquoise in my mind.’ She freaked out. Turns out she’d found a turquoise heart in her coat pocket that day, and had been holding it most of the afternoon.

Two, I’m not a nutjob. I swear.

Three, when I was little – and still today – I was utterly and completely freaked out by worms. On a huge level. I knew that when we fished, we used worms as bait (though my grandmother took pity on me and let me use pieces of bologna or corn). I refused to eat fish because I knew the awful truth: fish ate worms.

Three and a half, I also believed that squirrels lived inside green beans. Like, multiple squirrels per bean.

Four, I unfriended my father’s girlfriend on facebook. Her account was the way he accessed my profile – and pictures of the babies, etc. THIS IS HUGE. Clicking that unfriend button was HUGE. Admittedly there had been no ‘action’ from her/his profile in awhile, but I have been so freaking scared to finally cut off this ‘tie.’ It feels good. I feel brave.

Five, I’ve had a bad SPD relapse. This is due to a lot of things I won’t bore you with. But it’s been one week and one day of something quite hellish. I cannot wait for the blood to flow.

Six, tomorrow is Aussie’s son’s first birthday party. When were we grown up enough to have kids this old? Mine turned FIFTEEN MONTHS yesterday. I remember sitting in the pub with her, making comments about wanting to steal the bellies/babies of pregnant women.

Seven, I really need to get back on the enthusiasm and motivation train. The level of pain I’ve been in – coupled with my lovely pre-period self (argh, I’m a mean, tired bitch!) – leaves me utterly exhausted and down. I need to lose this weight. I need to write about when I gain weight rather than lose it. I need to be accountable.

Seven and a half, not to place blame, but things went down the shitter when ya’ll stopped wooing and hooing for my weight loss journey. You need to be held accountable. *wink* <— that was a fake wink to make you think I was being breezy about this.

Eight, I had to skip NaNoWriMo writing a few nights ago. I wanted to skip yesterday, too, but managed to do a day's writing. So as of last night, I was only a day behind. As of tonight, I am two days behind. I need to stop blogging and start romancing.

Nine, The Romancer is picking up speed and is more enjoyable to write.

Nine and a half, I still would prefer to watch Friends. Except every night when I finish writing, I am all YEEHAW and KABLOOEY and wetting myself with excitement. I put in the DVD, and fall asleep within five minutes of the show starting. I slept all last night in my glasses.

Ten, I am going to go all crazy cool and start using a Reusable Menstrual Cup, this cycle if all goes well. Prepare for posts full of too much information now. I foresee panic posts about silicone things stuck in my vajayjay, stories of how good I am at bearing down to get it out due to lesbian sexual activities, and blood spilling all over the floor.

Ten and half, night night. Sweet dreams to you, speedy writing to me.

Fear based feeding.

September 1, 2010

A few weeks ago, I was talking to my mother while cleaning up after a meal. I casually said something like, ‘Well, Snort didn’t have much of his ___________ today.’ It didn’t worry me. Some days he’ll eat 75 melons, and some days he’ll only eat 3.

My mom’s reply startled me, perhaps because it wasn’t what I expected her to say.

‘Oh, let him choose how much he wants to eat.’  Now, let’s say it loud and clear: my mother is not a fan of baby led weaning. She was loudly opposed to this style of feeding from the start, but when it became clear that her fears about choking were not going to change how we did things, she stopped critiquing us. (This, incidentally, is how I know I am a mother in full standing, and a woman to be respected: my mother trusts me to raise my own children. Ha.)

But then she continued.

‘When you were a baby, sometimes you seemed like you didn’t want to eat. So I would force you. You would be screaming and crying and I just kept shovelling food in because I was afraid you weren’t eating enough.  I took you to the doctor and he said you were fine, you were healthy, and a baby who is healthy doesn’t need to be forced to eat. He said you would be eating what was right for you.’

A few things from this paragraph.

One, this is a major principle of baby led weaning. You don’t encourage your kid to eat more or less than what they are eating. Only they know how hungry their tummy is. Research has also shown that kids will gravitate towards things that have what their body is lacking. This is why my kids sometimes attack wheat bread and I think I’ll have to open my own mill, and why sometimes they lean towards cheese, or fruit, or beans.

Two, my mother had informed me awhile back (probably around the time Snort and Coco were 6 months old and we were starting solid food) that she had not given me anything but purees until I was ‘well over a year old.’  Yes, all I ate until god knows how old was smoothly pureed stuff. You know, the stuff that I was forced to keep eating even when I was full and protesting.

Three, well, is there a ‘three’?

You all know I am pretty overweight right now. Almost 55 pounds overweight, despite having already lost about 25 pounds. I may have been a healthy, slim weight when I got pregnant, but that has never been my norm.

Longtime readers will know that a few years before I got pregnant, I lost 58 pounds in 18 months doing Weight Watchers. Prior to being pregnant with two big ass twins, my starting weight at WW was the heaviest I’d ever been, and it’s about what I weigh right now.

While I wasn’t a fat child – though certainly made to feel so by my mother – I was never a skinny minnie once I started puberty, and for me that happened in about fourth grade. So being a healthy eater, a thin person, is not my natural mode of being.

Some people are just naturally chunky (and hawt), but I don’t think there’s anything natural about my chunkiness (despite the fact that I am, of course, still hawt!). I think it happened – and is happening – for a number of reasons.

One, I was not allowed to make decisions for myself regarding food as a child. I would have eaten whatever was on that spoon. Two, I was forced to eat even when I was not hungry, and this has perhaps overridden my natural awareness of being full, of being finished. Three, I was not allowed ‘real people food’ until I was long past my baby years.

Even as a child, I was lied to about food. I was afraid of fish, so my mother told me tuna was chicken. I didn’t want to eat meats at all after awhile, and my family bribed me with money, hid the wrappers of meat in the trash, and continued to lie. I was full and didn’t want to eat my peaches? I got hit and screamed at while at the table. I threw up because I was made to eat when I didn’t want to? Hit and yelled at again (not by my mother).

As I got even older, I was enlisted to lie to my sister about the food on the table, as she was 5.5 years younger than me and would only eat what I would.

Now, obviously my family is an extreme. But I still think that the feeding experiences of babyhood – like most experiences of babyhood – remain with us and play a large part in the formation of our character, our self-beliefs, and our choices.

We’ve been doing baby led weaning for about seven months now, and it couldn’t have been a better experience. Sure, at the beginning I worried about how much they were (not) eating. Sure, the first time Coconut swallowed a hunk of bread it scared me so much I didn’t give them solids for two days.

But I kept on, because at the core of it I do trust my children.

And now they are healthy and happy eaters. No doubt there will be bumps in the road, but I feel like I have helped create a baseline for them – learning when they are full, choosing what foods to eat from the variety that is offered, choosing how much to eat. Letting me know when they are done, and that being respected.

Snort and Coconut laugh during meals. Coconut often hums (much like my sister used to do when eating). They drink water and merrily slam their cups down, they hand me choice pieces of chewed up muck to sample, they are weaning themselves off milk. For Snort and Coconut, mealtimes are an opportunity for us to all be together, to have a ‘chat’, to enjoy each other and the good food in front of us.

What a stark contrast – for me as a child, mealtimes were often scary and laced with the fighting of my parents (who later divorced, thankfully in retrospect!), pressures on me to make choices, and pressures on me (still, when I visit home) to just ‘finish things off’, to make sure there are no leftovers. I have received so many mixed messages about food, and I could write a novel on the ways my family have – unknowingly, perhaps – fucked me up in relation to food.

TMD is still struck dumb by it all. At my parents’ house, there is a big breakfast and then one later meal around 4. If you get hungry before then you are shamed for wanting to eat, and if you get hungry afterwards you are shamed for wanting to eat. Yet during the meal itself you are encouraged to gorge, to always, always eat more.

TMD will be driven to secretive eating within days of being there (alongside me!), much as I ate secretively as a child – except now I’m old enough to drive away, order food, and eat in the car and throw away the wrapper before I get home. Ridiculous. We have both made a conscious effort (thank god for TMD and her neverending support) to eat normally while at my mother’s house, though the continual commentary on our eating is tough to deal with.

This will not happen for Snort and Coconut.

I am curious to see what my mother makes of baby led weaning in action, but I am a woman now. I am doing the best I can by my children, making choices I hope are the right ones, and so far it’s working: I have two almost-toddlers who exude confidence, joy, curiousity, and wonder.

Long may it continue.

PIZZADILLA: the recipe (and some preliminary reviews)

July 15, 2010

Oh, hundreds of thousands of you were asking for the PIZZADILLA recipe on Twitter. Fear not, my whimsical chefs, I’ve got all you need for tummies aged tiny – old.

First step:


Yes, it’s a plain tortilla on a white plate. I realise it’s the blurriest picture in the world, but let’s be honest. If you can’t visualise a tortilla on a plate, the cooking skillz needed to make Pizzadillas are probably beyond you. Only visionaries who dream big can make them.

Next step:


Squirt tomato paste all over your sad little tortilla, and use a knife to try to spread it around. This takes supreme effort and concentration, since everybody knows tomato paste doesn’t like to spread. Notice my concentrated little knife marks. I am one serious chef, yo.

And then:


Cheese! We use full fat, full flavour mature cheddar. (Full fat foods are a must with baby led weaning, kids. Babies don’t need any skinny minnie bullshit.) Here I’ve lovingly grated and judiciously sprinkled it evenly across the surface of the period blood – I mean, the tomato paste.

Time to make a taste sensation:


Here we seem to have hit on the ultimate Pizzadilla flavour nest. I know because I made three different Pizzadillas, and this first one was lust-a-rific, at least from Snort and Coconut’s point of view. I’ve got finely diced yellow peppers and green olives. (And I think the taste of the smushed up clumsily cut olives is actually KEY to the success of the Pizzadilla.) I’ve also thrown on some oregano.

Next, you take another lonely little tortilla, smack it on top of this pretty little mess, and bang that shit into the microwave. I made the mistake of cooking the first one for two minutes, and delaying lunch by about 16 hours while we waited for it to cool. The next one I zapped for a minute, and that was perfect.

When it comes out, you cut it into six charming pieces. I served it with the leftover yellow peppers (because the Mamadilla I made was without peppers, since peppers make me want to die inside) and pears.

See here:

And voila! You have got yourself six hot, tasty little pieces of heaven.

The preliminary test group:


I think you’ll appreciate this was a moment of nail biting excitement. Not only was this test group composed of famous food critics and movie stars, but…and this is a big but (big butt – ha! I’m 12!)….their final decision on the Pizzadilla, if unanimous, would win me the brand new category of Nobel Prize: innovation and involuntary genius in cooking.

Judge one:


Judge two:


They LOVED it!! And they weren’t the only ones.

I’ll have you know that one piece was saved (by ‘saved’ I mean I didn’t get around to cleaning the table, so it sat out congealing for four hours until TMD got home) and when my wife tasted it, her eyes lit up. These things might not look like much, but do they taste GOOD.

She said, and I quote, ‘This thing is fucking magical’ and ‘this is the best quesadilla I have ever eaten.’ And that was after it had sat out minding its own business and getting gross. Imagine how good they are fresh. She even requested I make her one! I also admit to filming a Pizzadilla interview with her, which I am debating putting on the blog.

But….the best part of the Pizzadilla? They prompted the creation of PIZZADILLA: THE MUSICAL and it will be premiering on my blog tomorrow. Put on a pantyliner now, cause I know you’re gonna piss yourself with excitement several times while waiting to see this video.

If any of you become Pizzarilla Guerillas and strike upon another tasty combination of fillings, do come here and let the rest of us devotees know. I don’t know much, but I do bet at least three of your asses are going to make Pizzadillas sometime today, am I right??

If I have to leave the house on my own, I will need Crocs because shoes and socks are beyond me at this point.

April 16, 2009

Just booked our one-day multiples antenatal class. For some reason I was having a minor freak out about booking it – so picked up the phone and did it that way. Yesterday I rang these people to join their Exclusive World of Multiple Babies and they were lovely, and they were lovely again today.

Yesterday when I registered I was really impressed by how gender neutral the woman was. She didn’t ask for my husband’s name, she asked for my partner’s name. Now, I know over here ‘partner’ is a widely applied term – but so handy that it doesn’t imply a sexuality along with it. Today I was asked for my husband or partner’s name; I think these people have undergone some training or something because as soon as she said ‘husband’ she kind of choked up and quickly replaced it with ‘partner.’ Nice.

The weird thing?

She referred to TMD as my ‘birth partner’, but she MEANT ‘wife.’ As in, ‘Is this your birth partner’s first child/children as well?’ and ‘Are you the one carrying the pregnancy?’ She also groovily said (not in a nosy way – it was a question I had to answer for the antenatal referral), ‘I assume you used fertility treatments then?’

Anyway. Class booked. Next step is to book into the local hospital’s free class. No doubt it will be …uh….well, you know, I’ll shut my mouth and hope for the best. I don’t think or know if we will sign up for this other series of antenatal classes (private classes through a national charity – everyone in the world goes to them) as the hospital stuff might cover it anyway. I find it all odd as while I would certainly prefer a vaginal delivery, I just don’t know how things will turn out on the day – it’s like this for multiples. I won’t know for a couple of months yet. Maybe one of you can come over and just teach me how to breathe or something.

Other thing is that I heard back from the local multiples club – they have a meeting tomorrow. While no one believes I am a social hermit because I am so fabulously sparkly with people, I totally hate going along to stuff like this without a friend in tow. I was warned by the email lady that tomorrow might be a bit ‘manic’ as it is school holidays so lots of older twins will be there. Yikes.

Apparently there are a few new twins moms there, though, so it would be quite good to get to know people in the area. I was assured that people ‘forge lifetime friendships’ – normally a churchy cult statement like that would put me off, but actually, I wouldn’t mind a few local lifetime friends. But the meeting’s in a church. Gross.

I am really cooking with this whole babies thing. I am also not moping around or hating bedrest as much this week. In fact, I’m starting to enjoy it. I’m now in a dodgy area where I have outlasted my doctor’s sick note and have not extended it – not even sure where it is. Work has not contacted me and I haven’t contacted them, aside from some emails about my scan and a phone call from Green. I had a tearful half hour earlier this week about missing work, but this is what it is.

I’d rather be successfully cooking babies than struggling to make it through the days at work.

I still have some pretty big stuff to sort out – and the first thing(s) are getting a solicitor so we can make a will, as well as taking legal advice about securing TMD’s parental rights. The law here is changing and if we had conceived a few months later we could have both been on the birth certificate. As it stands, we have to work really hard to make sure our family and babies are safe.

I also need to find a dentist. Yuck. I don’t trust dentists here…but then again I’ve never gone.

….Really grey and gloomy outside today. Hardcore mist coming down into our jungle of a back garden. Regardless, I have done more stuff in the past two days than I have in the past two weeks. I also called the clinic yesterday and found out we will receive our donor’s pen sketch when the babies are born. I also asked about the woman I donated eggs to – waiting to hear back about that.

In the meantime, I may go make myself an ice cream cookie sandwich. They don’t have them in this country (horror, shock, disgust!), but I find they are actually a ‘recipe’ that is within the parameters of ‘things I can cook.’

Love to you all.

(Pictures coming later, assuming I can hook up our new memory card/camera to the laptop with no struggles.)

Becoming a foodie again? Weight watchers gone wrong.

April 3, 2009

I am eating like there is no tomorrow. This appears to be the first day of me finding the fabled twin pregnancy appetite. I don’t know if I could list everything I’ve eaten today, but it includes:

2 bowls of cereal
a ‘protein bagel’ (with turkey, but the vegetarian-approved name) and crisps
nine mini-pizzas
a Hallumi salad
a whole grapefruit
an orange popsicle thing
a raspberry yogurt
lots of water
a mini Milky Way

I just finished the mini-pizzas and am already anxiously awaiting TMD’s arrival as I need more food. Sag aloo…I need it. Need it. I’m going apeshit for spinach and grapefruit lately – though not both at the same time. Yesterday when Corporate T was over I ate a three egg omlette he made me in very short time….and was wishing I had the same again. WTF.

All along I’ve been worried about my weight gain…or lack of it. The serious and scary twin book (but excellent) listed out a diet that included eating huge ass meals every two hours. I have never ever wanted to eat that much, even years before this pregnancy thing when I was very, very overweight. The light-hearted twin book only mentioned weight in regards to not worrying about how much you gain, because you need it with multiples. It suggested perhaps not weighing yourself if you would be worried about how much of a giant cow you were becoming.

Bring on the cowhood, I say!

When I was having my egg collection for IVF, I remember drunkenly saying my weight to the nurse who was sedating me. As of this morning, I weigh exactly 14 pounds heavier! I feel like every pound was a battle to gain – perhaps because of how sick I was initially. Everything I read recommends gaining 24 pounds by 24 weeks…and for the first time I have a small hope of being able to do so.

I want nice, fat, healthy babies. Admittedly right now I am pregnant with two babies AND a pizza baby, but there’s no shame in triplets. Bring on the sag aloo!

I have noticed during this pregnancy that I have been craving food from the country where I was born. Sag aloo is the first thing I have really, really longed for that is more ‘native’ to where I live now. (No, I don’t live in India or anywhere like that.) Last night we had pasta as TMD needed a break, but the two nights before we had sag aloo, veggie curry, rice, garlic naan bread, onion bajii (only first night – was a bit gucky)….and the inevitable multiple glasses of water.

I wanted this so bad that I gulped it down without even noticing the mushrooms (the HORROR of mushrooms cannot be understated!) the first night. The second night I still ate like a wolf, barely pausing to flick the mushroom pieces to the edge of the plate. Fucking hell, man. Those babies are hungry.


GIRL. (Also: no hallumi flair exists. Am I spelling it right?)

March 14, 2009

Back cramps: ouch.  Had ’em for just over a week now. Is this normal?

In other news, I feel human. I ate like a fucking racehorse yesterday, stayed out with friends till after 10 pm (a feat even pre-pregnancy), and woke up this morning ravenous. I am afraid to be too human and healthy, but I had two days this week with NO vomiting. One of those was yesterday – and I admit to heavy nausea throughout the day, but still.

I had a gorgeous hallumi, lettuce, and tomato GIANT sandwich for dinner alongside a portion of chips. This is the biggest meal I have eaten in four months. FOUR FUCKING MONTHS! Prior to pregnancy, I could have eaten this like three time over.


I also feel mildly energetic. Convinient as TMD is near incapacitated with cramps, but then I figure she feels so bad because I feel so good. Our relationship has always been that way. One of us is always around to be strong when the other needs it.

I am afraid to say it, but I am feeling cautiously optimistic! (Could I hedge my bets any  more?)

We also just threw away my Cyclogest (progesterone). This IS progress.

(My mother said, ‘See, everyone told you this would happen after four months. Everything gets better.’ My midwife says, ‘I think getting sick once a day is as good as it is going to get for you. This’ll probably last the whole time now, as it’s twins.’ Both are right, as while ongoing vomit is sad – ongoing LIMITED vomit is happy.)


Crazy trimester goodness (you can thank Tatiana for this).

February 12, 2009

There are three schools of thinking in regards to trimesters: development, gestation, and conception. Google if you want to know more because I do not claim to be an expert. My doctor, who admittedly is a dipshit, probably goes by the local accepted standards. Probably. He has said my first trimester ends at twelve weeks.

Next level crazy: my IVF clinic calculates everything from when the embryos are put back. Everywhere on the internet calculates things from the egg retrieval. If we go by The Power Of The Internet and the whole 12 week thing, then I am officially in the midst of my first day as a second trimester lady.

Because I actually trust my IVF clinic, though, unlike any other medical professionals I am currently involved with, I will go by their conception date. I will also go by Dr. G’s trimester dates, because as annoying as he is, he totally gets me into the second trimester more quickly.

In other news, I woke up at 3 am last night and couldn’t fall back to sleep for a couple of hours. This was not helped by the fact that during my awake spell I had copious dry heaving and a wee bit o’ vomit. I woke up this morning for another wee bit o’ vomit. This is how things have settled: morning dry heaves and vomiting, then mostly okay for the day. Have not vomited during the work day, for example – touch wood.

Am thinking I am at a point where I need to amp up my food intake. Have now lost THREE pounds. This is so not good. My special twins book says I should be eating three large meals and four substantial snacks a day. It defines a snack as a microwave meal OR cereal, whole fat milk, and a banana. I have never eaten so much, even when I was a bona fide fatty. Should be interesting.

I am semi-fake eating every few hours. How to eat large amounts every two? I am also thinking about meat a lot. The smell drives me  crazy, in a feeding frenzy kind of way. But I’ve not eaten meat in so many years I dread vomiting on contact – or the resulting ass sickness that happens when veggies go carnivore. AWESOME.

Say hello to my belly, everyone!