Friday, November 11, 2011

The Rare Domestic Jag

I'm on one.  A domestic jag.  It's kinda like a jig, but you get your house in some semblance of order. 
And it's been a good long while, so my family keeps looking at me like I'm the unabomber or something.  I used to do things like make homemade cream cheese pastries for my Sunday School class or bake dozens of iced sugar cookies for my Death and Dying class (seems weird to me now, too, but made perfect sense in the middle of writing my thesis).  I quilted (what?).  I even crafted (gasp! I know you are shocked.).
The short version of the story is after I had two kids I was exhausted.  I was trying to do too much all the time.  I stopped.  Why did I need to be the one to make braided pastries for my Sunday School class when everyone else bought a dozen doughnuts?  People love doughnuts, right? 
But right now, I'm going the extra mile for these people I live with.  And it's taking some getting used to.

It means I get up while sensible people are still blissfully slumbering earlier than usual to make things like monkey bread for the kids to eat before they leave for school.  This morning when Bonus and RNR came down and asked, "What's for breakfast?" I replied, "It's a suprise."  Bonus was sure to inform me that there could not be a surprise because it was not anyone's birthday, and silly me, I didn't know that one could not surprise one's children with a special baked good on a day other than a day commemorating the birth of a loved one who lives in the same household. 

Who knew? 

I told Bonus to go into his father's office to run that "surprise" theory of his past Mr. Incredible.  However, as he galloped out of the kitchen, I realized that this past year I have only made special breakfasts or meals on birthdays or holidays, so what else is a five year old to believe?  Not that I beat myself up about that or anything.  Cringe.     

Being on a domestic jag also means I have cooked recipes that are new to my children.  When I made gumbo, Bonus thanked me for making foods he had not tried before.  And then he told me he really wasn't hungry.  Gotta give the kid points for figuring out something nice to say when he did not like dinner.  Miss Noteworthy enjoyed it, and her expanding palate surprised me once again.  She didn't even complain about eating the okra.  She liked it!  RNR... well, my once adventurous little eater has traveled to the land of EEEWWW and made herself a new home there.  At least she is still eating asparagus... for the moment.

And last Thursday I pulled out a recipe from my childhood... Sherried Beef.  In the crockpot.  So easy.  Everyone loved it.  Mr. Incredible called us bums because he was getting home that night and, we had eaten up every last drop of it (don't worry he had dinner before he got home).

2 lbs. beef, cubed (brown sides in a skillet if you like)
1 can cream of mushroom soup
3/4 c. of dry sherry (this is what makes it delicious, of course)
1/2 packet of onion soup mix (i know.  it has onions in it, and i still eat it.)

Place all ingredients in the crockpot and cook on low for 8 hours.  Serve over egg noodles or rice.

Easy peasy!  I would cook in my crockpot for every meal if I could get away with it.  I love having dinner all prepped and cooking by 9am.  It absolves any guilt I have about that afternoon nap that I still need at nearly forty-one. 

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