I admitted yesterday that I’m domestically challenged, so I thought I’d redeem myself by participating in this week’s Crazy Hip Blog Mama’s first ever recipe roundup. There must be a full moon this week as I am sewing and posting recipes on the Internet.

Check out their site for details on how you can participate in this week’s roundup, featuring soup recipes. You don’t have to be a member of the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas to participate, but of course, I am, because I’m a little crazy. Hip? Not so sure. I think I retired my hip designation when I started wearing Keds loafers, otherwise known as my comfortable lesbian shoes, and admitted to the Internet that I wear black Gold Toe socks, the same as my male gynecologist. I also secretly love the soundtrack to Barbie’s Princess and the Pauper. So yes, my hipster mama status is going down the drain.

Thankfully I married a man who knows his way around the kitchen and who laughs at the very idea of following a recipe, otherwise my girls would never realize the joy of cooking. I, on the other hand, usually stumble along in the kitchen with a recipe and would choose “Burnin’ Down the House” as my kitchen anthem.

Here’s my contribution to the recipe roundup. It’s from one of my husband’s clients and it is delicious.

(Read on …)

I was on a mission to tackle Mount Laundry Saturday and learned that when you wash a khaki sofa slipcover, you might want to make sure you’re not also washing a purple crayon, especially before you toss them both into the hot dryer for a good 45 minutes…you know, just enough time for the purple crayon to really settle into the fabric. I also accidentally washed a harmonica that had wedged its way down into the creases and folds of the slipcover but found it pretty quickly after starting the dryer. The crayon’s nothing a few strategically placed throw pillows can’t hide and the harmonica survived unscathed. Sometimes I’m really fearful of what living things I might discover in the creases of the slipcover.

On to other domestic pursuits, I thought the Earth might fling itself off its rotational axis last night as I mended a sweater, two polo work shirts, and sewed a button back on to a pair of the hubby’s work khakis!

My mom always had a basket of sewing to tend to when I was growing up and she crochets beautiful afghans and my maternal grandmother had a designated sewing room and made beautiful quilts, some of which I am lucky to have in my possession. According to a wonderful bio written by my great aunt (my maternal grandmother’s sister), their grandmother, Nanny, tatted and sewed.

Apparently the sewing (and cooking) genes all passed me by and headed straight for Martha Stewart’s house. But it’s nice to know I can actually sew on a button. We just won’t talk about the elf-size apron I made in 10th grade Home Ec because I couldn’t figure out the pattern.

p.s. It’s a good thing this isn’t an audio post because I sound like I’ve been chain smoking Marlboro reds all weekend. Darn this lingering March crud!

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Originally uploaded by blondemom.

The Cat in the Hat turned 50 Friday! Three years ago Caitlin and I went to the Dr. Seuss National Memorial in Springfield, Massachusetts, while visiting my sister and her family. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a life size bronze Grinch.

Did you know you can help support literacy in this country by sending the Cat in the Hat a birthday card? For every card Dr. Seuss’s cool cat receives between now and May 7, Random House will donate one dollar to Project 236, which provides books to impoverished children. Hat tip to In the Trenches of Motherhood.

Speaking of birthdays, we celebrated our nephew’s 2nd birthday a week early yesterday as he is going to become a big brother any day. He got all the typical little boy toys, from trucks to balls, and since he’s at that pivotal potty training age he got a nifty talking Elmo potty (it slices, it dices, it does everything but bake fresh bread) and some Nemo big boy underwear. When he opened the underwear he held them up proudly and declared, “Panties!”

Last night I slept all night in our bed for the first time in a few days. Amelia has a spring cold and woke up coughing about 3 a.m. Wednesday. I gave her medicine and we snuggled and rocked in the recliner for about an hour and then out of sheer desperation I did something I NEVER do. I put her in bed with us in order to get some sleep. I ended up fitfully sleeping while clinging to a sliver of our queen size mattress, barely covered by the sheet and blankets, from about 4 a.m. to 7 a.m. It’s a good thing I don’t operate heavy machinery at work.

Maureen Dowd has an article in this week’s New York Times, about many parents doing the bedtime shuffle with their children without protest. Their own comfy bed might be claimed by a sprawled out 5-year-old as they sleep in separate bedrooms with their other children but they shrug it off because they confess they will do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Now at our house we may give in to requests for just one more chocolate chip cookie or one more episode of Dora or one more minute in the bathtub until little fingers and toes can’t get any more water-logged or prunier, but by God our bed is OURS. We even banned our dog Bailey from sleeping with us when I got pregnant with Caitlin and could no longer handle her hot doggy breath on my ankles.

On Wednesday springtime blossomed in my nasal passages with its annual post-nasal drip. I had a difficult time going to sleep and then Caitlin woke up about 2 a.m. thirsty and wanting a drink and then Amelia woke with the 3 a.m. coughing yet again, only this time the hubby got up with her, rocked her, and put her back in her crib. Of course then the hubby and I were both wide awake. Because God loves to push the sanity buttons, a storm front was also blowing through in the wee hours of the morning and Bailey, who gets extremely nervous during storms, burrowed her 40-pound hot dog body inbetween the hubby and I.

Do you willingly co-sleep with your children, or are you like us…willing to do anything (including bribe your 4-year-old with a calendar sticker reward system and the promise of trips to the dollar store) to keep your kids in their own bed? One of the most difficult things about having a newborn baby was the lack of sleep. I may sound like a cold-hearted mother, but I was thrilled to move both girls from the bedside bassinet in our room to a crib in their own room.

Children need boundaries. Like, it’s OK if you eat chicken nuggets in front of the TV, but you better not take that neon blue popsicle into the den missy.

I know there are circumstances where co-sleeping cannot be avoided, especially with babies, but I need my sleep, my husband needs his sleep, and my idea of blissful slumber doesn’t involve sharing a bed with my kids while they knee me, elbow me, and hog the bed covers.

Besides, it’s bad enough that I’m apparently not going to get to sleep in for the next 16 years or so, as at least one of the girls insists on waking by 7 a.m. even on the weekends.