Who's The Boss?

It hurts me more than it hurts you

My father said those words to me once before he spanked me.  For the record, I totally deserved the spanking.  Not only had I stolen money, I then lied about stealing the money.  And, if memory serves me right, I hid under the table for a while to in hopes that he would just forget about the whole thing and treat me to ice cream.

It hurts me more than it hurts you

Before I was a parent, I thought that line was the biggest cop-out ever when disciplining your child. 

Raising a child to be a good person is a million times harder than being the kid growing up to be a good person.  Being a child's moral compass, teaching important lessons, having them learn that every action has a reaction and that sometimes those reactions have consequences that hurt us or the people we care about (and yes, even sometimes people we don't even know).

And I'm not talking physically hurt, either.  This has nothing to do with spanking your child.  Discipline need not require a literal hands-on approach.

Darius went to bed crying tonight. He is learning the hard lesson of not being the one in charge.  Of having to listen to his parents and do it the first time he is asked instead of waiting until a half-dozen warnings are issued and a threatening "ONE... TWO..." are shouted. 

One of those moments

Do you ever have those moments where you feel like you're the only one that does anything?  You're the chef, the maid, the butt-wiper and bottle-maker.  You're the dry cleaner and the iron-er.  You're the carpooler and the homework monitor.  Oh, and you're working full-time, trying to live a more active lifestyle, and are feeling more stretched thin than ever.  All the while, everyone else around you is twiddling their thumbs waiting for YOU to do whatever it is YOU'RE supposed to DO while THEY just SIT there and look pretty?

Yeah, I'm having one of those moments.

I know it's not rational.  I know I'm not the only one pulling their weight around here.

But when I went to bed last night with dishes in the sink and the night's leftovers on the counter, I hoped that someone would help me out a little by, I DON'T KNOW, cleaning up and putting said leftovers in the fridge.

I'm a slave for you

"When is dinner going to be ready?  I'm hungry."

"In about two minutes."

"But I'm hungry."

"Why don't you help set the table?  Then when dinner is ready we can sit down immediately."

"If I set the table, I'll be your servant."

"Uh no.  You are not my servant.  You are a member of this family.  And as a member of this family, you should help out around here."

"It's okay, Mom.  I don't mind being your servant."

"You are weird, kid.  Are you feeling alright?"

"Is there anything else I can do after I set the table?"

"Well, there's a pile of laundry to be folded, dirty dishes in the sink, and the trash needs to be taken out."

"But aren't those your jobs, Mom?"

"I thought you were my servant."

"But those are your jobs, I want my own jobs. Something you don't do."

"Well then, why don't you just make yourself comfortable on the couch and relax?  I certainly don't get much of that!"

What's for Dinner? Shrimp Tacos

I love tacos.  I mean really love tacos.  It's an unhealthy obsession with tacos.  My dad claims that I could eat six tacos as a kid.  A very picky kid who barely ate anything because everything was gross.  But tacos and me?  Like two peas in pod.

I am so happy that Darius loves tacos too.  He can eat two (sometimes even three) which is huge for my "three bites and I'm crying that I'm full" child.  The best part about tacos is that they are done in no time.  You can have homemade tacos on everyone's plate in less than 15 minutes.

I make a giant side dish of Spanish rice to go with my tacos.  Everyone who has tried this rice, LOVES this rice. I will say that for rice it's a bit more complicated that I would like to see.  But it's worth it.  The rice will bake in the oven for about 25 minutes, so you must use an oven-safe pot with tight fitting lid for this recipe.

Shrimp Tacos

For the Tacos, you'll need:

How to catch a Leprechaun

1. Dig through the recycle pile for supplies

2. Raid your own treasure box for shiny gold

3. Raid the rather pathetic craft box for paper, glue, glitter, and Popsicle sticks

4. Ask your mother 8,754 times to pour the glue for you because you don't want to get your fingers sticky

5. Listen to mother ask you 1,756,890 times "How exactly are you going to catch this leprechaun?"

6. Stare off into space, leaving your mother wondering how in the hell are you going to pull this off.

"The leprechaun will walk up the ramp and crawl into the box.  He'll get all sweaty from trying to pick up the pieces of gold that are glued down.  And then he won't be able to crawl out because he's hands will be slippery."

FYI... for all you leprechaun enthusiasts.  Apparently, Leprechauns don't listen to signs, that's why there is a Keep Out sign.  Those stubborn Irish wee-folk do exactly the opposite of what they've been told.  As an Irish-American, I take total offense to that.  Even if it is 100% true.

Spring has sprung

I've been absent from this little blog for over a week.  It wasn't intentional.  But when you have this surrounding you, it's hard to want to be cooped up inside writing about life. 

About three weeks ago, I gave myself some new fitness goals.  This has nothing to do with losing weight (although, my waistline wouldn't mind a reduction).  It is really about being active.  And able.  I look at my Grandmothers and see how inactivity will curse you when you are elderly.  Both were fiercely independent but not super active in their early retirement years.  Now both in their 80s, I've watched their health decline each year.  I don't want that for me.  Sure there are a lot of genetic and environmental factors that may be out of my control.  But I'm not going to just lie down and wait for the diabetes and heart disease. 

This blog certainly is not going to become about my journey into the land of the physically fit.  But this blog is about my life.  And when I'm not here, I'm probably outside. Soaking up some Vitamin D.  Moving my body.  Breaking the cycle that has plagued the women in my family.

So forgive me for my absence.  My heart (literally) thanks you.

BOOK IT! can Suck it!

It started last November when a flyer came home about the Book It reading program.  Like many schools in the Bay Area, ours had partnered with Pizza Hut for a reading rewards program.  If my son read for 15 minutes every day in the month, then he could get a coupon for a free personal pizza.  From the start I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of rewarding with food.  Especially bad, unhealthy food.

Let’s face it, the ultimate goal of rewarding children is to help them internalize the positive behavior.  Sure, many of us used a jelly bean or an M&M to get our toddler to pee in the potty (in our house it was stamps, stickers, and when I got really desperate, Thomas trains).  But we also know that rewarding children in the home or in the classroom does not need to involve food. 

There are big risks when rewarding with food.  The obvious is establishing potentially bad eating habits or over-eating.  But my bigger concern about rewarding reading with a high-fat, low-nutrient, fast-food pizza is that we are teaching the kids to reward themselves with food.  Which in turn connects food with mood.  And for those of us who’ve eaten a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food when our boyfriend dumped us in college know that it’s a dangerous game to establish your eating habits based on how your feeling.

By giving children empty calories as a reward for good behavior, we are saying "Here is something unhealthy for you because you behaved so well."  Or in this case, “because you read every day for 15 minutes.”  Does this make sense?

We participated that first month in November.  And then we went to a Pizza Hut with a few friends from his class the following month to redeem our prize.  Afterwards, I told my son that this was a one-shot deal.  While it was fun to have a pizza party with friends and it was even more fun to read, that we wouldn’t be coming back to Pizza Hut again. 

My son still has to read for 15 minutes a day.  That has to happen no matter what external rewards program the school offers.  Because I know that the real reward my son gets from reading is READING.  Of getting lost in a book or learning about new Stars Wars characters.  Of reading about our country’s history or the magical world of Harry Potter.  Of becoming a life-long lover of books.  Reading is the reward.  It’s the only reward that matters.   He doesn’t need a slice of pizza to figure that out.

March is National Reading Month. In honor of National Reading Month take some time to share a story with someone you love. You may very will inspire a lifelong reader!

Original post for the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog

By giving children empty calories as a reward for good behavior, we are saying "Here is something unhealthy for you because you behaved so well."  Or in this case, “because you read every day for 15 minutes.”  Does this make sense?

We participated that first month in November.  And then we went to a Pizza Hut with a few friends from his class the following month to redeem our prize.  Afterwards, I told my son that this was a one-shot deal.  While it was fun to have a pizza party with friends and it was even more fun to read, that we wouldn’t be coming back to Pizza Hut again. 

My son still has to read for 15 minutes a day.  That has to happen no matter what external rewards program the school offers.  Because I know that the real reward my son gets from reading is READING.  Of getting lost in a book or learning about new Stars Wars characters.  Of reading about our country’s history or the magical world of Harry Potter.  Of becoming a life-long lover of books.  Reading is the reward.  It’s the only reward that matters.   He doesn’t need a slice of pizza to figure that out.

March is National Reading Month. In honor of National Reading Month take some time to share a story with someone you love. You may very will inspire a lifelong reader!

Original post for the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog

Finding the time to exercise

Before I became a mother, I was an avid exerciser.  I worked out in the company gym with my work best friend nearly every day of the week.  On weekends, I would take a 3-5 mile walk with a girlfriend.  I weighed a good 40 pounds less than I do now and was fit.  Not like Jillian Michaels fit.  But I was healthy.  And active.  And my ass didn’t have it own zip code.

When I was pregnant with my son, I lost all my energy.  The third person I shared our good news with was my VP.  I was so tired that I was falling asleep at my desk every afternoon.  So I asked to be able to work from home after lunch.  He was so wonderful about it and agreed.  Good-bye working-out every afternoon.  Hello 2 hour nap!

It didn’t help either that my pregnancy cravings were nacho cheese, thin mints, and pancakes.  I was ballooning and quickly.  I gained 20 pounds in the first half of the pregnancy.  When my son was born, I had packed on nearly 60 pounds.  I always thought that I’d be one of those moms that quickly bounces back into her pre-pregnancy sizes.  Reality is my pre-pregnancy clothes are still hanging in my closet nearly six years later.

Continue reading at Full Time, All the Time

I guess this makes me the Pea Whisperer

The only thing I seem to be able to grow in the garden.

For the love of reading

There is no surprise that when I look back on photos of Darius, I have one of him reading with nearly every member of our family (with exception to me, of course, since I took all the photos).  We read Darius his first book when he was just a day old. 

Neville is the primary reader in our house.  I can only read a couple of books before I'm simply over it.  As a busy working mom, it's hard for me to sit for 15 minutes during the peak evening hours to just read.  There's laundry, and dishes, and lunches to be packed, and a dozen other things screaming at me to get done right this instant.

While I manage the chaos of our crazy beautiful lives, Neville manages the nightly bedtime routine that includes reading books to our kindergartner. Neville can read to Darius for an hour or more.  I hear them at night bonding over Dr. Seuss or Captain Underpants or, the newest fave, Viola Swamp.  Sometimes, I'll hide behind the door to eavesdrop on their conversations.  Neville frequently changes the story and Darius will get him back on track.  I love hearing Neville's different voices to the characters or how he can make Darius laugh by changing the names of the characters to members of our family.

Food Challenge: Eat-in More

Apparently last week was National Eat-In week.  I must have missed it from all my cooking.  I recently purchased the first ever (in the US at least) Parsi cook book.  My MIL and I have been pouring over the pages, she reminiscing about her own childhood in India and me, wondering how foods cooked with practically the same ingredients could taste so different from dish to dish. 

There are many reasons why we don't eat out much.  First of all, it's expensive.  Personally, I'd rather use my extra income to pay for a housekeeper than to eat at a restaurant a couple nights a week.  Second, it's much healthier to eat at home.  You control the portions, the fat, the salt.  In California, it is now law for restaurants to disclose the number of calories and fat in every dish.  It's scary that a BBQ Chopped Salad at CPK has more than my entire day's allotment of calories.  Lastly, it is faster to cook at home than it ever is to eat out.  Making meals from scratch doesn't mean you have to be a slave in your kitchen.  Most nights, dinner is on the table in 45 minutes or less.  There's no way that you can get your brood in the car, drive to your favorite restaurant, decide what to order, and get your meal in that time. 

Menu plan (yes, that really is my menu this week)

If you sit down for 15 minutes on a Sunday to figure out what you are going to make for dinner each night of the week, then you can be smarter about how you grocery shop.  No more throwing away the bag of zucchini that never made it to a meal.  You know exactly what you need and when to use it. For those of you who say you want flexibility, I rarely actually cook the dinner I planned on the night that I planned it.  My weekly menu moves around.  So the spaghetti and meatballs on Tuesday may actually be made and eaten on Friday.  By having all the ingredients for the entire week, I know that I can change it up and move stuff around as our schedule requires.

Double-Up

Whenever you are going to make something that takes extra time, double (or triple) the recipes. 

Let them have cake

Happy Birthday, honey.  Now hurry up and get home from work... your son is about to go into convulsions from the anticipation of getting to eat cake on a school night.