THE Talk


I’ve been featuring some fabulous guest bloggers from the Nashville area while I take a little summer blogcation. Today’s guest post is from Liza Graves, a co-founder of StyleBlueprint, a style blog which brings daily updates on fashion & beauty, home decor, food & entertaining, travel, health and all things that women love to talk about when gathered while hopefully sharing a pitcher of margaritas.

Opinions vary widely regarding when to talk to your children about sex. My belief is that somewhere around the age of 8 or 9 is perfect.  This worked well for my oldest, and with my middle child almost 10, and about to go off to overnight camp, I knew I needed to find any opening and give her THE talk, as I surely didn’t want some cabin mate filling her in on the birds and the bees 350 miles away from home.

Now, when I told my oldest, she was full of questions. Embarrassing questions. Detailed questions. Her thirst for information was hard to quench. With Miss Middle, I’ve searched for opportunities during the past year to talk to her, but each time an opening presented itself, she instinctively slammed that door shut – right in my face. Well, the time was upon us, and I knew I had a mere 48 hours to make sure this happened. We were packed, the trunks were in the car and our GPS gave us 4.5 hours until we arrived at our N.C. cabin, where we would stay overnight before dropping our two oldest at camp.

When we arrived at our cabin, we all got out of the car, grateful to be at our destination.  Immediately, as is often the case at our mountain home, two dogs appeared, eager to include our dog as part of their roaming gang. One dog, an un-neutered, large male (aka Lover) took special interest in our smaller dog.  Miss Middle said, “Wow, that dog sure does like Buddy.” (Yes, to fully comprehend my story, our dog is a boy also, just a “fixed” dog, which I guess in dog world means “fair game.”)

I immediately thought “window of opportunity” and told Miss Middle I needed to talk to her. We entered our cabin, sat on my bed and I said:

“Sweetie, I need to talk to you about something. You are old enough to understand this.  It has to do with babies and how they are made and where they come from.”

She looked at me and blinked. Not a word. I had a sudden feeling that perhaps she knew, which would explain why she had avoided all of my attempts to snare her into this conversation for the better part of a year.  Hmmmm…. She does have an older sister….it was possible.

“So, you know that to make a baby there needs to be an egg and a seed, right?”

She nods.

“Well, the egg is in the mommy and the seed is in the daddy.”

She says, “Wait, I thought the mommy had the seed?”

“No, the daddy does, and he has to get it into the mommy. Now, this happens the same with cats, horses, dogs – and this is why that dog out there is acting like that with Buddy. He doesn’t understand that Buddy is a boy, but this way of making babies is the same with all animals, including people.  Now, it’s OK if you think this is gross, because it might shock you. And you need to know that when you’re older you won’t think it’s gross, as that is how God made us, but …“

She was looking down and she sighed. I thought, “Wait, she does know.  She knows about sex already!  She knows what I’m about to say!”

“Sweetie, do you already know how the daddy gets his seed into the mommy?”

She nods.  She looks up at me with her enormous beautiful eyes and slowly says. “Yes.  She has to eat the poop.”

Well, okay, I guess she didn’t know.

“No no no no no no.  Not THAT gross.  At least I don’t think so.” And I proceed to tell her EXACTLY what happens and how her body one day will want this, but why we wait.

“So, do you have any questions?”

She says, “No, I’m hungry. Can we drive to dinner now?”

No inquisitive questions, as there were with Miss Oldest, about how long this takes, how many times Daddy and I do this type of thing, how big it gets. Nothing.

On the way out to the car, the three dogs are still running around.  Lover is still all over our Buddy, but the girl dog running around with them is definitely the third wheel.

Miss Middle says, “Why isn’t that boy dog trying to do it to that girl dog?”

I shrugged. I was just as confused.

Then, Miss Middle shows wisdom beyond her years, which she has always had, saying, “I know why.  He’s already done it to her, so he’s moved on.”

Gulp.

“Yep, honey, I think you are right.  And, you want to make sure you marry a man who never acts like that dog.”

Be sure to read the other guest posts in my summer blogcation series!


Grown Up S’Mores With Kahlua, Need I Say More (Or S’More…Oh I Crack Myself Up)


Grown Up S’mores photo by arajane (via Flickr creative commons)

Welcome to my summer blogcation series featuring Nashville area bloggers! Today’s guest post is from Calie at Broccoli Cupcake, my road trip buddy on a recent trip to Louisville for the GE Momsperience blogger event and one of the Denver 5 from Nashville. I was snowed in with her in Denver during the great blizzard of 2011 (OK so it was a spring snowstorm which for us Nashville girls might as well be a freaking blizzard.) Calie may be healthy, but I know the girl loves her chocolate.

Yes, I’m a healthy living blogger, but I still like to indulge once in awhile.  One of my biggest weaknesses is S’mores.  There’s just something about the combination of fluffy, toasty marshmallows slowly melting a square of sweet square of chocolate between two crunchy graham crackers that I can’t say no to.

Unfortunately, this generally brings some ridicule from our friends.  I can’t blame them.  I’ve been known to steal the last marshmallow from a toddler in the name of just one more S’more!  This summer, I decided to find a slightly more grown up way to enjoy my S’mores.  At least for occasions when we’re entertaining new friends who might questions my choice to steal sweets from children or walk around with chocolate smeared up my cheeks.

In the interest of social acceptance….here is my favorite recipe for grown up S’mores, which includes Cognac.  Doesn’t get much more grown up than that.

Chocolate filling ingredients:

  • 8 large egg yolks

  • 1 ½ cups of confectioners’ sugar sifted

  • 2 tablespoons white crème e cacao

  • 2 tablespoons Kahlua

  • 2 teaspoons Cognac

  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  • 1/8 teaspoon salt

  • 2 sticks of unsalted butter

  • 2 tablespoons of Dutch-Processed cocoa powder (if you can’t find that any cocoa powder will do)

  • 12 ounces of semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (finely chopped)

  • 1 ½ cups of heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks

Marshmallow fluff meringue:

  • 3 large egg whites

  • Pinch of salt

  • Pinch of cream of tartar

  • ¼ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  • 1 cup of marshmallow fluff

Graham cracker crust:

(If you’re short on time you can buy the premade version, but I think make it all homemade really makes a big difference in the taste)

  • 3 cups crushed graham cracker crumbs

  • 1 stick unsalted butter  (melted)

  • 1 tablespoon granulated sugar or turbinado sugar

Preheat the oven to 350.  Start by making the crust.  Combine the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter and sugar  until well mixed.  Press into the bottom of a 9 X 13 inch baking pan.  Bake until the crust starts to brown (about 10 min).  Cool completely.  Next mix up the chocolate filling.  Using an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks and confectioners’ sugar together until they are thick.  Beat in the cream de cacao, Kahlua, Cognac, vanilla and salt.  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat and whisk in the cocoa powder until smooth.  Remove the pan from the heat, add the chopped chocolate and stir until it’s melted into the mixture.  Let it cool slightly before beating it into the egg mixture.  Fold the softly beaten heavy cream into the chocolate mixture until combined.  Spoon the chocolate cream into the graham cracker crust.  Cover the pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm.  Overnight is best.

When you’re ready to serve this amazing treat, make the meringue.  Using an electric mixer set on low, beat the egg whites until foamy.  Add the salt and cream of tartar and beat on medium speed until soft peaks form.  Beat in the vanilla then add the marshmallow fluff to the egg whites a little at a time, beating continuously until stiff peaks form.

Cut into squares of desired size and top each with about an extra large dollop of meringue after it’s plated.  If you have the tools and want to get fancy, use a small kitchen torch to burnish the meringue until the tips are golden brown.  I didn’t do this and it was still amazing!

All the taste without all the mess and you won’t have to fight the kids for a place in front of the fire.

Connecting Over The Ordinary


Welcome to the second post in my summer blogcation series!  Today’s guest post is from my friend Carrie Ferguson Weir, a freelance media consultant who publishes and edits Tiki Tiki Blog, a site dedicated to essays about growing up, and living Latino, in the United States. She just relaunched her personal site, Bilingual in the Boonies.

A brief history of my childhood summers in Miami…

Grandma’s House. Five days a week. TV. Ice Cream. Cousins. Bored. Sit on porch. Avoid Miami heat-stroke. More ice cream. Keep watching TV.

It wasn’t exactly campy-enrichment, but I turned out to be a smart grown-up with a big vocabulary and a well-paying job. And because my Cuban grandma didn’t speak English, it was like Spanish Immersion Camp everyday. Free.

Both my parents worked full-time, so really, grandma’s, as mind-numbing as it could be sometimes, was the only option.

Fast-forward to what has been the last two summer’s of my young daughter’s cush life:

Camp. Playdate. Sleep-over. Playdate. Playdate.  Beach. Grandma’s house (near Miami Beach). Camp. Sleep-over. Playdate. Playdate.

All made possible by the unpaid and unappreciated driver named Mama = Me.

This summer, I quit.

I have called foul on the system that—stay with me here —would have me madly positioning myself to get a precious, and expensive, camp spot for my kid, wake her early nearly every summer day to drive her 20-plus miles into Nashville, often to wait around doing something like shopping or lunch so that I won’t have to drive 20-plus miles and back again,  and which keeps my house and my life in perpetual cyclone.

Playdates are free, but I still gotta drive from Kingdom Come.

My daughter did a wonderful art camp last week, but now we’ve begun what I am calling The Summer of Lazy.

Glorious Lazy. Precious boredom. Unplanned, unscheduled adventure. And of learning to do daily chores, darn it. (The child in question 7.)

We’re into day four, and well, I am not, despite the predictions of a friend with grown kids, drunk by week’s end.

So far, we’ve hung out at home and cleaned while blasting show tunes on the iPod (Daughter selected “It’s a Hard Knock Life” various times. Subtle, she ain’t); we’ve gone the Nashville Zoo, the grocery and my chiropractor. Today, she is sleeping in.

Each morning, I write a daily chore on the small chalkboard I bought just for that purpose. We’ve never been too sticky with the chores, but it is time.

See, it all ties in.

The Summer of Lazy is about connecting with my only child around the ordinary.  I want to show her there is joy in the uncharted, unscheduled. Joy in the responsibility of creating order in your own space.

I also need to show her my primary role is not to get her dressed, out the door and off somewhere.

And lately, I have had increasing dread that this is it, life is only going to get more complicated. She’s going to get more involved in other things, with other people, so we need this wide space together while we can grab it. I work from home for now, so I need to take advantage of this luxury and privilege and spend more hang-out time with my daughter.

Perhaps one day I will be the Mom keeping track of camp weeks via spreadsheet (shudder), but not this year.

I have been widely proclaiming the Summer of Lazy and have found quite a few friends who are camps-less this summer as well.

We have vowed to stick together and rejoice.

Or drink.

Not yet sure how it’s all going to turn out.

But, I have hope.

And so far, a clean house and a happy kid.

Did you miss the first summer blogcation guest post? It’s a fabulous recipe for Piña Colada Popsicles from So, How’s It Taste?

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