Contrary to Popular Belief

Last week at HEB, I picked up a bag of broccoli slaw because it was on sale.  I checked the back to see if there was a recipe for a sauce to go on it and the recipe listed was for broccoli slaw enchiladas.  It sounded simple and all the other ingredients sounded good, so I decided to pick up everything else we needed and make them.   I mean, why not?  (Why not?  Because it’s broccoli enchiladas.)

There was at least a 90% chance that the highest rating we would be able to give these was that they were edible but we were never making them again.  Because it wasn’t something where you make fake enchiladas with a béchamel sauce and lasagna noodles and broccoli slaw.  These had corn tortillas and enchilada sauce…and broccoli and carrots.

They were fabulous. 

They were make-them-again fresh and delicious and just the slightest hint cabbagey from the red cabbage in the slaw.  One of my life mottos is that there’s no wrong way to eat cabbage, and that is definitely true here.  It seems like it wouldn’t all work, but it does.  I’m endorsing it so much that I’m posting the recipe. 

I change something in every recipe almost every single time, but here I followed it.  (Mostly)  It’s one of those recipes that I think has to have all the pieces to work.  There can’t be any I don’t like cilantro, I don’t like black olives.  Commit to the whole recipe if you so chose.  Broccoli enchiladas.  Really.

I’m posting the recipe because I endorse it.  It might be the first recipe I’ve printed here, if that means anything to you.

Broccoli Slaw Enchiladas
yields 12

12 oz HEB Broccoli Slaw (obviously it doesn’t have to be HEB, but it’s their recipe)
1 1/2 tsp garlic powder
3/4 cup red onion, diced
1 cup cilantro, minced
12 corn tortillas
12 oz enchilada sauce
12 oz reduced fat shredded cheddar jack cheese (we used regular cheese –it’s enchiladas)
6 oz sliced black olives, drained

Place bag of broccoli slaw in the microwave on high for 3 minutes.  (Note:  If there is one thing I learned in the petrochemical industry, it’s don’t microwave plastic.  But did I microwave the bag?  Yes, guilty.)  Pour into a bowl.  Add garlic powder, onions, and cilantro and toss all ingredients together.  Wrap tortillas in a paper towel and microwave for 2 minutes. To assemble, dip entire warm tortilla in enchilada sauce, coat both sides.  Fill with mixture of slaw and shredded cheese.  Wrap tightly and place seam side down in a baking dish that has been sprayed with non-stick cooking spray.  Pour remaining enchilada sauce over tortillas, top with shredded cheese and black olives.  Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.  Remove and let sit 5 minutes, then serve.  AND ENJOY!

The other new food I *invented* (of course other people have made this) last week is a sandwich that is going on the menu of my vegetarian sandwich shop as The Nursing Mother:  wheat bread, peanut butter, chocolate chips.  Every time I unscrew the peanut butter lid, I hear Personal Trainer Nick’s voice, “You should only be eating peanut butter if you are trying to gain weight.”  Do not try it, because you can’t untaste it.

Open A New Window

The world of sewing little girls’ clothes has been opened!  It’s the best part of quilting (picking out fabric) plus the fun of making rag dolls (minus the pain of sewing on the hair).  Plus the whole project goes relatively quickly.  And there is a whole world of trim to be explored:  rick rac, lace, ruffles, sequins…it’s going to be fun.

The first pattern I tried was the simplest.  I tried to start with a fabric that would be forgiving in terms of patterns matching up at the seams and something that wouldn’t overwhelm a very little girl.  It’s pretty roomy and probably won’t fit Holly until the summer.

The next dress was a little more complicated:  lined, with a sash that ties in the back, and a zipper.  There was one step of the pattern that I didn’t totally grasp, so I skipped it, thinking I would go back and figure it out.  That never happened, so I did end up hand sewing some of the lining in the end.  It also meant that I had to rig the zipper to fit it in.  Thankfully I’ve had enough practice on zippers with bags.  It all worked out in the end. 

If there is one thing I learned from Catholic high school, it’s how to sew a hem.  It was the nineties and the days of Britney Spears and Oops! I Did It Again, but we weren’t going that short.  We were just trying to fix the awkward length produced by the uniform company.  My mom has always been adamant that we never sew a hem on a machine, always by hand.  She would help with the uniform skirts, but my sister and I had to sew our parts too.  Those pleats stretched out into a ton of fabric.  There were many nights spent with my mom and sister around the kitchen table, turning up the hem of a plaid skirt.  Just like Little House in the Big Woods, right?

The third dress was made with my newww ser-ger!  (Can I get a “new serger” in a Bob Barker Price is Right voice?)  I’ve used a serger before, but it was a little overwhelming to sit down and figure out how to get everything set up.  Thankfully Trent’s mom and sisters were in town recently and we spent hours at the kitchen table getting everything threaded and the tension worked out.  By “we” I mean that at some point I moved to the living room to feed Holly, then ended up reading a magazine while Trent sat with them and worked on the tension.  It does take a village.  A few days later I was able to sit down and make another dress, alternating between my sewing machine and the serger.

I might end up overdoing it on the ric rac.  Why not?  Who else but a little girl can wear so much ric rac?

In trying to take a picture with my phone of Holly modeling the dress…

and we were constantly photo bombed by Panther.

I will admit that I am not getting enough sleep.  It has been so fun making these little dresses, but now it’s time to take a few days to get to bed at a decent hour.

Speaking of things I learned, or didn’t learn, in school, Rush and Tate had dinosaur week at their school last week and were talking about fossils in the car.  I told them we could see if they still sell trilobite fossils at the Museum of Natural Science.  (You could buy them 23 years ago, so certainly they still sell them.)  My dad chaperoned a museum field trip when I was in 4th grade.  In the gift shop, most of the girls were buying shiny hologram bookmarks.  I wanted one too, but my dad came over with a handful of trilobites.  In the words of Jimmers, Why get a bookmark for $2 when you can get a fossil for $2?  I have always been thankful for my dad steering me towards things like that.

Too bad our conversation in the car continued with Rush asking what a trilobite is.

“It’s like an old timey bug.”

Wrong.  Or is it?  And I am not kidding, I took a geology class in college completely about dinosaurs.  Old timey bug.  I should keep working on my sewing skills, because my fossil knowledge isn’t going to pay for college tuition around here anytime soon.

Let’s Talk About Holly

Holly is starting to wake up.  She slept and slept and slept for her first three months, but now she’s starting to be awake for longer stretches during the day.  She’s still taking her pre-bedtime nap, but I’m guessing that will be the first nap to go.

She has the sweetest smile.  Today she gave a hint that she might start laughing soon.  I’m hoping that we catch her first laugh, because if J.M. Barrie is correct (and why wouldn’t he be?) that laugh is going to produce fairies.

If she has hearing loss, we can probably attribute it to me catching Rush holding my phone up to her ear this morning so she could listen to the song “Frozen Heart” from the Frozen soundtrack, Rush and Tate’s favorite song.

She’s rarely on her stomach because she’s most often being held, or possibly sitting in a bouncy seat or high chair. 

She loves being outside –either that or she has no choice but to go outside.  But I think she loves a nice spring breeze just like the rest of us.

She really didn’t lose very much of the hair she was born with.

This is one of my favorite Holly outfits- white onesie, purple tight pants, so cozy.

She loves when we sing to her.

And she has a hard time sleeping when it’s peaceful and quiet…like right now…

Pirate PARRRRty

Much of Rush’s life is centered around costumes.  He saves his red shirts to wear on days where he is most likely to see his friend Barrett, so he can be Lightning McQueen.  A green shirt isn’t just a green shirt, it’s a Hulk shirt.  Cowboy boots are useful for being a cowboy, Thor, a pirate, or a Viking.  I already had to set the No Capes At School rule.  Much of the discussion about what kind of birthday party to have involved what kind of costume he could wear.  Finally it was decided:  a pirate breakfast.

The easiest way to make a sign look creepy is to hold a crying baby in one arm while you paint with the other. 

For every kids’ birthday party we host, I think about a black and white photograph of one of my dad’s (or my Aunt Kay’s?) birthday parties in the 1950’s.  All the kids were huddled around a homemade cake on a table in a backyard or driveway, with all the mothers in their shirtwaist dresses.  It’s the subtle inspiration behind all our kids’ birthday parties.  The ultimate goal is a good-time feeling, kids running around the backyard.

Let your eyes go out of focus on this magic eye pan of cupcakes and you might notice that it’s a treasure map.  It looks to me like a mom made these cupcakes and iced them while she was on the phone.  I love those cupcakes, so full of homemade love.  That’s the same overconfidence that compels me to bring clothes that are way too small into dressing rooms, then be surprised when they won’t fit.  Wait, I’m not the same size I was in high school?  Probably from all the cupcakes and childbearing.  Aaaannnd cornbread.  (And college and candy and cheese…potential diet plan is avoid anything that begins with the letter C…sounds miserable.)

My favorite way to decorate:  wander into the garage at 9 PM the night before a party that starts at 9 AM and look around for possibilities.  The elevator rope wins again!  This was right after Trent dug through his scrap wood to whip up a plank for the yard, just in case anyone needed to walk it.

Remember newspaper hats? 

Holly spent most of the party snoozing in the arms of her soon-to-be godmother. 

 

Rush proclaimed that the party was, “The Best Birthday Party I Have Ever Had.”

Things We Know About Coco

There are four Cocos.  Coco is a fish who wears five striped shirts.  He’s the stinky one.  Coco is a kid, specifically a boy.  Coco is a horse.  Tic Tac is also a horse; his last name is Coco.

Coco the fish lives in the crack in the front patio of our house.  He eats leaves, sticks, rocks, and ‘candy gum’.  Coco the boy does not have any toys, but he has a job.  He works with Aunt Kelley.  He breaks her apartment.  Last time we went on a car trip, Coco sat with Rush in the car, then he climbed into Rush’s shirt.  He also jumped out of the car and onto a train.

Coco is Tate’s imaginary friend.

Conversation from last week:

Scene:  Tate and Kelly are sitting on the couch.

Tate, quietly:  I can’t believe Coco.

Me:  What did he do?

Tate, breathlessly, appalled:  He hit you.

Watch out for Coco.

Three and Then Some

Tate turned three back in January, back in the blurry days of January when Holly was three weeks old.  Better late than never on documenting the celebration-

Just a month and a half after his birthday, he already looks older!

He wanted a “Lightning McQueen Party.  And a Mater Party.”

For weeks before his birthday I would ask what he wanted for his birthday dinner.  Every time he would answer, “eyeball” in his serious voice he uses when he knows he’s being funny.  But we really couldn’t get him to say what he wanted, until he finally picked “chip tacos.”  Chip tacos, fyi, are crunchy tacos.

Please note the Taco Bell sauce packets.  Keeping it classy at the candlelight birthday dinner.

Tate’s party was at McDonalds, our first away from home birthday party.  We had the full McDonalds birthday experience, including the cake with Ronald McDonald on it.  All in all, it was pretty great.

For as many times as Tate has made a teenager face at me, sometimes I forget how really little he is.  Sweet, sweet three years old- good times Tate, good times.

Mama’s Little Baby Loves Short’nin Bread

I read somewhere that you when your kids are in high school and you look back at pictures from when they were little, you will die a thousand deaths when you think about how big you thought they were at the time.  But really- Rush is five?!

Tate shared in all the birthday excitement.  After laying in bed quietly-ish at naptime, but never actually falling asleep, he was zoned out exhausted at the table.  Holly tricked us by waking up from her pre-bedtime nap only to fall immediately back asleep at the table.

Rush selected red beans and rice and cornbread with honey for his birthday dinner, of course.  Third year in a row-

He may be big compared to Baby Rush of 2009, but he’s still a sweet five year old excited about getting an excavator for his birthday and sneaking downstairs after bedtime to play with it.  Because he’s big now.  He’s five.