Tag Archives: kids

Today is Bossing Day!

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Are you all ready to celebrate in the joy that is Bossing Day, the newest Hallmark holiday to hit the shelves.  Wait.  What????

Ah, never mind.  The little elves have informed me that Bossing Day is not an international, national, state or even local holiday.  Apparently it’s limited to my house only.

Yes, that’s right. Today at the Kenner residence, the kids are taking over. It’s called Bossing Day because, you guessed it, today my kids get to boss mommy! (First thing mommy is going to do? Let them sleep in however long they want. Ha! Freedom!)

How did this amazingness happen? Last week, in a fit of project-mania, the girls took a tri-fold presentation board and worked out a presentation of everything they wanted: More screen time (shot that one down). No school during the summer (ah, no, sorry but doing some school during the summer gives us flexibility during the year; trust mom, it’s better this way). Bossing Day, wherein the kids are the boss and they can have, as they specifically mentioned, ice cream for lunch. That one I agreed to. How bad can it be?

Actually, knowing my kids and their little imaginations, this may have been a mistake. Thus the sleeping in. They can’t boss if they’re not awake. Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Today’s Tip of the Day – If you need to squeeze in some extra work leftover from the weekend, give your kids a Bossing Day. Chances are they’ll want to play the Wii all day and you can get caught up guilt free!. I hope… I hope …

I’ll update my status throughout the day (see the sidebar thingie on the left and Twitter/Facebook). I’m sure you are all on pins and needles to know how Bossing Day progresses. Aren’t you? Aren’t you…..??????

The Grass is Greener in Grandma’s Kitchen: Guest Blog today With Marianne Hansen Rencher!

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Curse you, Red Baron!

I’m so excited to have a guest blogger today–the super fun Marianne Hansen Rencher. Not only that, but how cool she’s hitting on the topics of both cooking and mom’s — both of which I’ve touched on recently. Serendipity, right?

Marianne’s a redhead – jealous! – who lives in Montana – not jealous of the winters! – and you can read more about Marianne here.

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My mom is an amazing cook. And she’s the type of person who thinks nothing of whipping something up because it’s your favorite and you’re coming over.

When I call and tell her I’m visiting, I live 8 hours away now, she’ll ask me what I want for dinner. And if I tell her, it will be waiting.

I can ask for Thanksgiving dinner and if I give at least 48 hours notice, she will make a turkey with homemade stuffing, fresh cranberries, yams, potatoes, peas, and a pie. And it will melt in your mouth.

Neighbors were sad when my parents moved because they would no longer get homemade wheat bread for Christmas. She is an amazing cook.

I am not.

I have a lot of her recipes but she is one of those cooks who put a dash of this and a pinch of that while I need to know exact measurements or it will all fall apart. Literally.

I get by, but I prefer to buy my bread from a bakery and tell people I made it. I don’t really cook. I try and I can do it, sort of, but it isn’t like my Mom’s.

My husband’s mom isn’t too interested in cooking either.

In other words, the only time my kids get to have real, true, completely homemade food is at Grandma Hansen’s house. That’s it.

They get about four or five visits a year to appreciate good food.

Can you understand my dismay when my children’s favorite thing to eat at Grandma’s house – the thing they talk about for days before we go – the meal my youngest loves so much that he has declared Grandma Hansen his favorite because she cooks him this?

Toast.

Not even with her homemade bread. She uses any brand she has. Wheat, even. The bread does not actually matter. And she doesn’t even put homemade jam on it; just butter. From a really big tub.

But she cuts it in half.

It’s been their favorite for two years now.

I know how to make toast. I’ve made toast most of my life. I even know what number different types of bread should be on. I thought I had toast down to an art. But whatever I do, it’s just not like Grandma’s.

In fact, the other day, when I was feeling down, my youngest asked for some toast. I took a slice of Grandma Sycamore’s bread (my favorite) with actual Land-o-Lakes butter, cut in half and gave it to him. Knowing I wasn’t feeling great, he put his small hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. One day your toast will be just as good as Grandma’s.”

Truer praise there never was.

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Thanks so much for blogging today, Marianne!

My kids are the same…food always seems to be better at the grandparents. So what say you, folks? Is the grass greener in the other kitchen for your kids, too?

Forget “Hi, Bob!” – my kids inspire my own drinking games…

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Do you remember “Hi, Bob?” It was popular when I was in college, back when reruns of the Bob Newhart show would frequently play about the time that Happy Hour (or after-hours) was kicking off in various bars near campus, or at home where students were kicking back, ignoring the fact that there were essays to write, books to read, things to learn.

Hard to avoid the lure of “Hi, Bob!” The rules were simple: every time someone on the show said (you guessed it) “Hi, Bob,” the folks watching drank a shot. In my world, it was a shot of Tequila, but really anything would do.

Life goes on, and shows go off the air, and “Hi, Bob!” is no longer part of my life (thankfully, neither are drinking binges, which were usually followed by ice cream binges, which were usually followed by the need to buy new jeans as the alcohol and ice cream went straight to my thighs…but that’s the subject of another blog).

Fast forward to now. I’m a mom…and yet (or maybe “and therefore???”) I find myself compelled to remember my old drinking game. Motivated even to invent my own. Motivated by….da da da DUM…my kids.

Yes, folks, that’s right. You can use your own children’s idiosyncrisies to get well and truly wasted. In fact, I’d bet a Venti Nonfat Latte that you’d do more shots playing my game than “Hi, Bob!”

What is the game? It’s called, “I forgot.”

“Daughter dear, did you take out the trash like I asked?” “Oh. I forgot.”

“Daughter dear, did you clear your place?” “Oh. I forgot.”

“Daughter dear, did you do your math?” “Oh. I forgot.”

“Daughter dear, did you bring your purse?” “Oh. I forgot. (Will you buy me X?)”

“Daughter dear, …” Well, you get the picture. Just pop back a shot every time the kid says, “Oh. I forgot.” (And let’s not even get started on the “Can I have candy?” game inspired by the other daughter….)

So to all the local college students, the party’s at my house! But bring your own Tequila. These days, I’m a wine drinker.

How about y’all? Has your life inspired any drinking games? Wanna vent about your kids? About college? About the inability to tolerate tequila once you pass college age?

Image: Boaz Yiftach / FreeDigitalPhotos.net