Domestic Goddess.

I know, I know, Domestic Goddess is one of the last words you would use to describe me.  Until today, my friends!

For my first trick of domestic wizardry...you've seen the chair below.  It's a remnant from my single days, taupe, and microfiber, and so plush and nice.  But then I had kids.  Now it's covered with stains of every shape, from varying types of toddler secretion.  It's pretty hideous.

I read a trick online about how to clean even the worst microfiber messes.  Considering that the next stop for the chair was going to be a Craigslist curb alert, I figured I'd give it a try.  Fill a spray bottle with rubbing alcohol and saturate the entire chair.  Then rub (hard) with a white cloth or sponge, replacing as it picks up dirt and not rinsing, just using another clean one.  When it dries, you can use a bristle brush to fluff up the fibers if you want.

HOLY AMAZEBALLS!  It worked!  The chair looks brand flippin' new.  A word to the wise--I recommend you try this on a spring day.  The middle of winter is not the time to let 16 ounces of rubbing alcohol loose in your house, unless you were the kid that used to sniff the rubber cement, in which case you'll like the smell.  I was that kid, so I didn't mind. 

Feeling high from my achievement with the chair, I set out to continue with my wifey-ness.  "We have some old bananas" I thought, as I looked on my tablet for a banana bread recipe.  I should mention that I don't really bake.  Unless there is a box, and I add eggs and minor ingredients.  Not from scratch, ever.  Sooooo,  I didn't have quite enough butter or bananas, but made up the difference with some extra brown sugar and margarine.  And I added pistachios.  And vanilla extract.  All mixed up and in the oven, I begin to put the ingredients away, and I see it.  The baking soda.  That I forgot to add.  Big Man laughs.  "It's only been in the oven for 5 minutes," I tell him, "we can add it now".  Big Man laughs.  So, I pulled the pan out of the oven, dumped the baking soda on top and mixed it in.  It's still baking but I'm sure it's going to rock.  It will certainly be the best banana bread I've ever made.

And, if you were here with me right now, you'd probably be looking at me a bit funny.  Sniffing a little bit, trying to figure out why my clothes smell like I was in a house fire.  "Is she a volunteer firefighter," you'd think to yourself, too polite to ask.  No, it was the dryer.  Last week, it smelled a little bit burny, and we thought that it just got a bit too hot for a pair of Tommy's feety pajamas (they came out with a melty spot) and it made the clothes smoky stinky.  Undeterred, I did laundry on Friday night, and with the last load Saturday morning, the dryer decided to show us it wasn't playing.  It smelled like smoky badness, like burning rubber, and now my clothes do too.  We've replaced nearly every appliance in our house in the last 12 months.  Literally the only thing left was the dryer.  After the horrific Home Depot washing machine experiment there was no way I was going back to a big box store.  So I went to the local place that many friends recommended after I bitched about the Depot on facebook, L&M Appliances.  Got the dryer that matches my washer (not that I would have cared, but it was in stock and on sale) at a price that was lower than the Depot and which included everything else (installation and removal, extra footage of dryer vent tube, etc.), and they are delivering it tomorrow, one business day after I bought it.  Hoo-ray.  Nothing sucks more than having to drop $500 on appliances for a house we want to sell, but it was a valuable lesson in remembering to support local business, better service and comparable (or better) price.

Romper room.

Lawdy, lawdy, it's chaos here!  Three kids running in different directions and one of me!  At any given time, I don't know what I'm going to discover, from the benign, like a ripped pillow, to the random puddles of fluid that can be drool, a spilled cat water bowl, or any manner of toddler secretions.

Dani and Tori are eager to "help" us feed Tommy.  They take turns at dinnertime in the seat next to him so they can dole out (and sneak bites of) his finger food.

Tori the 'nado, basically refuses to smile for the camera, so I've got to catch her by surprise, or she likes to make ridiculous faces.  Not only has her language exploded, but she's mastered the art of polite.  Give her something and you're bound to get a "thank you"; she's pretty good at "excuse me" if she burps, but still announces, "I tooted" with a smile.  If she forgets "please" when asking for something, I give her a look and get a dramatic "puh-puh-puh-pleeeease"; on the occasions that I ask her for the magic word, the answer is always "abacadabra".

The girls helped me bake brownies tonight.  Their favorite part was the licking of the mixing spoons.

Batter face!

Hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?

There are lots of nights that I have to prepare dinner, but I can't really trust the kids to be alone in the living room while I'm doing it.

So on those nights we break the "no kitchen" rule.  Dani and Tori set up shop on the floor and "cook" while I'm cooking.

Even Tommy's getting in on the game--he sits in a high chair and chomps on whatever he can get his hands on.

The girls are happily my taste-testers, making sure noodles are cooked, just making "cheep cheep" little birdie noises so I will feed them bites as I prepare dinner.  It's adorable.

Silly Dani quote of the day, "I'm doing my favorite thing, mommy, driving you crazy."

Feeling domestic

I've felt like cooking lately. Had two couples over for dinner last weekend and cooked all day. To the point where I softened butter, put it in my pampered chef gun and made butter flowers for each individual bread plate???

Tonight two more couples are coming over for dinner. I shopped yesterday and planned the menu, but now am reconsidering my thought not to make a cheesecake and may head back to the store to get the supplies???

I can't explain it, because I'm like a walking zombie energy-wise. Was up late (and still managed to wake up at 6:30am) finishing a Jodi Picoult book (Salem Falls) which was the third of hers I've read, and the first one where the ending didn't totally piss me off. I have two more to read (midway through Plain Truth which I was reading for a library fundraiser I was scheduled to be in a discussion panel for, I ordered 4 more of her books from Amazon, before I decided that the formulaic nature and predictable endings pissed me off. Last night's book was pretty good though--it had some characters from earlier books nicely woven in, and an ending that didn't anger me (although it was no surprise). Seriously though, I can't believe they are all best sellers, they are the most predictible books ever! Well written, and researched, but oh, so predictable.

I'll probably read the last two, and then take a Picoult break--no more purchases, maybe borrow them at the 'brary, if I get desperate.