Oliver, need I say more?

Oliver is a pain, to put it frankly. When I'm really old, senile, wearing depends and have well outlived my welcome amongst the land of the living much less amongst my half dozen offspring, I'm going to move in with Oliver and then hang on for dear life like a Duracell battery. I'll drool on my clothes, spill chocolate milk, leave my teeth soaking in his water glass in the bathroom, and just be about as annoying as can possibly be stood to make up for every waking minute of every day of his existence since he learned to walk. Yup. There's no curse along the lines of," When you grow up, I hope you have 6 children just like you," oh, no, not me. My curse goes like this," I hope that when I'm old and annoying, I get to live with you for at least a decade to make up for the eternity with you that right now seems to be."

As you can well imagine, Oliver is the odd man out. In a family of nerds, he is the athletic, bursting with energy, no, I do not want to go to Fernbank for my birthday, yes, I do think Chuck E. Cheese is the greatest place ever, sort of kid. And his calling, or at least what he feels his calling to be, is to annoy the heck out of everyone around him in every possible way all day every day.

Occasionally, when I have had enough of this 7 year old blessing, I send him to his room and inform him that he is not to come out until specifically called. This is how the scene plays out.

Gabriel and Vivian will be playing nicely. Oliver joins in and irritates them to the extent that a fight breaks out immediately. After the umphteenth time I say,"Oliver, go to your room." Oliver trots happily to his room and stands at the door patiently waiting. (The patience he has waiting to antagonize someone or catch a lizard is impressive). Eventually, Gabriel and Vivian will walk down the hall in route to the girls' room which is toy laden. As they walk by, Oliver will say," I get to stay in my room all by myself and play with all my toys all by myself, and you guys don't even get to come in."

Immediately, Vivian demands to be allowed the joy of being in Oliver's room (which he shares with Charles). Oliver continues," Gabriel is a baby so he can't come in. Babies stay in Jonathan's room." Gabriel immediately demands entry and insists with a very whiney, baby voice that he is not a baby, he is a big boy. Within minutes Vivian and Gabriel are crying and angry with jealousy that Oliver gets to be in his room alone. The massive grin across Oliver's face says it all.

It is at this point that the brain dead mother mentioned at the beginning of this sad epistle remembers to add the final part of the command," Oliver, go to your room, SHUT THE DOOR, and stay there until I call you." Of course, he then stands patiently at the window in the hopes that a sibling will walk past outside, at which time he immediately opens the window and brags that he gets to be in his room, all alone, hogging all the toys.

Oliver is my one child whom I know will make it in life. The question is, will the rest of the world make it.

The Bitterness of Disappointment

Last night after the offspring were in the mode that I appreciate them best and all their really great aspects come out in the fullest glory- namely, when they are sleeping- I was making the rounds inspecting rooms, were towels properly hung, chores properly executed, etc. As I progressed through the house, my frustration mounted. In fact, my frustration mounted to the extent that I was almost ready to rip the sleeping perpetuators from their beds and have them re-do the assignments. But upon further reflection, after a highly frustrating day, I decided that this was not in the best interests of any of us. So I left them to their sweet slumber.

This morning I was moving around the kitchen rapidly bringing breakfast together, grinding coffee beans, filling the water filter, pouring orange juice, and reflecting. Pancakes was on the menu. The children were in joyful anticipation of pancakes. I had a small saucepan full of simmering water on a burner awaiting the right moment for a few eggs to be lowered in for exactly 4 minutes 35 seconds (they are at their perfect peak of soft boiled-ness)--these for Jon when I thought of something. I could save myself a heap of trouble and offer a valuable lesson if I just filled the saucepan and made everyone soft boiled eggs for breakfast.

I filled the pot, set the timer, hastily gathered egg cups and set them around the dining room table, and loaded the toaster oven with english muffins. Gabriel and Oliver emerged first and I turned to find them right behind me breathing in the air a bit worried and wondering why the cast iron griddles were not perched atop the stove.

"Mom, I thought we were having pancakes?" Oliver said his concern mounting.

"Yes, we were going to have pancakes. But I changed the menu and now you are having soft boiled eggs and toast."

Crestfallen does not do justice to the sorrowful feelings that welled up in Oliver. He reflected on this somberly and Gabriel immediately went into the thumb sucking fetal position, which I routed him out of and forcefully pushed him in the emotional direction of something a bit more manly for a nearly 6 year old boy.

Oliver looked at me feeling betrayed. "Mom, why no pancakes?" Ah, yes, this was the little instructional moment I was waiting for.

"That feels pretty bad doesn't it, when someone tells you they are going to do something and they don't, or they claim to have done something and they haven't? Makes you kinda mad, doesn't it?" I asked.

Oliver nodded waiting for the explanation. "Yesterday all of you children told me and lead me to believe that you had done your chores, properly gathered your music books for lessons, properly checked off your practice charts, hung towels, cleaned rooms, and all else, and what did I continue to discover all day long and into the night?" There was a long pregnant pause, but Oliver finally mumbled out the words with the look on his face that said - BUSTED- "We didn't do any of it."

I looked at him gravely and said," Then feel the disappointment of this moment and today when mom asks if you've completed your chores and properly practiced remember that when you claim something that isn't true, I'm very disappointed and frustrated just as you are in this moment."

Oliver sorrowfully left the kitchen considering that.

Within 15 minutes everyone was gathered around the table. The news had spread, and the crestfallen half dozen surveyed brown soft boiled eggs perched on white porcelain egg cups and a small plate stacked high with toast. I rather enjoyed the moment but not for long, because within a short period of time everyone was happily finishing off their eggs, asking for seconds and saying," This is really great, mom."

Jon got up from the table to head to work and paused to whisper, "Might I suggest, my love, that you make cornmeal mush for breakfast next time you wish to disappoint the children."

Yeah, so much for my little lesson. :-)

5 more corks....

We finally had a dinner party Saturday night, as in May 1st. I say finally because back before we became freedom crazed activists, we had dinner parties with great regularity. Jon helped set the table and I put the camera on a side table in the dining room to get some photos (where unfortunately it stayed; not a single picture garnered...rats), and then a menu was contrived with some home made items and some Trader Joes' ready to go items. It is unusual for me not to bite off a good deal more than I can chew, but every now and then I decide to get crazy and be realistic.

The menu: Appetizer: scallops on the half shell with a pesto garlic sauce (absolutely divine- you get them in the freezer section at TJ's for $2.99 a dozen), 3 layer hummus, smoked salmon (with all the proper accoutrements: dill, cream cheese, lemon wedges, minced red onion, capers....mmm, I love capers) and an array of flatbreads. 1st course, lobster bisque. I do make a scallop bisque that is very labor intensive since the stock is made from simmering fish heads and other things for hours prior to bringing together the final product, but I just accepted that this wasn't going to happen. This lobster bisque comes ready made from Costco's deli section. TJ's was out. I did get it and it may be worth using again. But I would recommend a splash of sherry, adding chunks of freshly steamed lobster, and garnishing with minced chives. Also, serving up Tobasco alongside the soup does have its merits. 2nd course, beef bourguignon with a demi-glace style reduction sauce, asparagus, pan roasted cherry tomatoes with parsley, and these adorable fingerling potatoes I roasted with olive oil, kosher salt and fresh minced rosemary, and then sourdough french bread with extra virgin olive oil and fresh cracked pepper. A word about the beef bourguigon- the recipe is from Julia Child's first cookbook and has a complicated browning method. It is TOTALLY worth it. The final sauce is really...words quite fail me here, but thinking about it, smelling the amazing aroma and the deep dark fragrant look of the sauce...trust me on this. Follow the directions.

There's still 2 more courses to go though perhaps you are beginning to wonder where anyone could possibly pack more food. I didn't consider the portions to be Golden Corral sized, and I had no problem eating everything and then snacking until 2 am on the leftovers there after. :-) Three people decided to forgo the salad course which came next.

I made a salad with smoked trout, bibb lettuce, finely grated pecorino cheese, red onion that had marinated in a balsamic vinaigrette, and just toasted broken pecans...yummy, yummy, yummy. I'm so glad there are leftovers for today--though you never bring the salad together until right before serving, and chilled salad plates are a nice touch.

Final course, I was thinking I would make the chocolate mousse recipe in the Silver Palate Cookbook. It is an excellent mousse, and an old standby in my kitchen repertoire. However, desiring to read the aforementioned Plato (in the preceding blog post) on Friday night instead of producing chocolate mousse, I resigned myself to purchasing a ready made chocolate ganache cake from TJ's- meaning Trader Joe's, but I'd imagine that to be obvious. You can get the cake in the freezer section. It is FABULOUS! I'm a big TJ's fan, by the way, because they are committed to no-GMO's in their products, and it's the only store from which I buy processed or prepared foods without worry, besides the fact that as long as you stay away from the cheese, meat and wine section, everything is very reasonably priced. Unfortunately, I never stay away from the cheese, meat or wine section (2 buck chuck is quite good, and we just discovered Green Fin, a $3.99 white table wine which was excellent with the bisque so there are inexpensive wines).

So what's with the 5 corks title? I'm saving all my wine corks so I can put together a cork wreath--a slightly cheesy do it yourself kitchen decor item which I have some bizarre need to produce. So I added 5 more corks to my collection last night.

Yes, I have a headache. Why do you ask?

Video Crazed Sons........

We have a firm rule in our house--well, it's "mom's" rule actually, though Jon thinks it's a good idea. Namely, absolutely no movies, television or video games except on Saturday. The exception to the rule is when someone is genuinely ill. Then that person may watch videos and if that person is Vivian, Gabriel can watch, too, since Vivian is his daily playmate. But on with the story.

Last weekend I was up very early Saturday morning with Vivian and walked past the music room in route to the kitchen. I was astonished to see 4 kids sitting indian style around the glowing box in rapt attention--it was 5am! Later in the day, we discovered that everyone had gotten up at 4 in order to hit the video games. Good grief.

This past Friday evening we had a chat with the offspring and decided that the time you get up Saturday morning to play video games is the same time you go to bed Saturday night. This was of some concern to Oliver and Charles. I offered them a modicum of moderation, that it was more a general guideline than a hard fast rule.

Later that night long after the kidlets were in bed, Jon and I were going upstairs to our room when Oliver came down the hall frantically. "I can't see my clock," he said panicked," I don't know what time it is, I need a clock." I was startled by this bizarre request probably because my brain was absorbed by another topic, namely Socrates' trial and Plato's account of the event, but Jon realized immediately what his problem was. "Oliver, it is not even midnight. Go to bed and get up when the sun comes up. You don't need to play video games until the sun is up." Oliver, who wasn't even entirely awake, was able to produce a look of defeat, and Jon escorted him back to his bed- the bottom bunk in his and Charles' bedroom.