A few days ago I sat down to dinner with the family with a sort of smug satisfaction. All food groups were represented, it was on time and delicious, and Charlie had just wowed me with her cuteness by coming downstairs to dinner dressed like this:
But the mood would change suddenly a few minutes later when I noticed Vivi wearing a ring from my jewelry drawer. I let the fork drop to the plate, stunned for a few moments, which was long enough for Vivi to figure out what was happening and blurt, “Charlie took your jewelry, Mommy!”
I raced upstairs, and sure enough, in the place where I keep my engagement ring, my mom’s wedding ring, and my great grandmother’s cameo necklace, there was nothing. Instead, my ring was on the floor in the hallway, and all of the other various pieces of jewelry were scattered to the wind, amidst sheets and under toys. Oh Lawdy be!
Reader, I would love to report to you that I had a very calm and rational discussion with the girls about Mommy’s personal belongings that are not to be played with, etc., but I think we know that isn’t the case. I’m not proud of my reaction; as I’ve said before, I sometimes have trouble caging my inner tiger. On the plus side, I do try after a blow up to explain later that sometimes grown-ups misbehave and need to be reminded of the rules, and that I want them to let me know when they feel sad about the way they’re being treated. If we can’t be perfect, at least we can be honest.
I have since made our bedroom “off limits,” and the point seems to have gotten across because I haven’t seen either child step foot in that room again. Today Vivi said to me, “Mommy, I wish I could dig a hole into your room from the bathroom so I could sneak in there.” Oh, sweet child of mine! I really didn’t want to place a no-entry limit on them. I love the idea of them being able to come in there and lay on mom’s big bed and peek into my closet. Hopefully in a year I’ll be able to reinstate our room as a fly zone, but while I have a toddler who knows how to use a step stool but doesn’t know how to employ self-control, it’s probably a good idea to ban entry for a while.
I have more stories to share with you from the week. I missed you, friends! For now, I’m going to share one of my favorite dinners to eat when I’m spending an evening alone, as I am tonight. I’m eating a Spanish omelette, which is really called a tortilla, but I call it an omelette so as not to confuse my brain. Please don’t bother telling me how many calories I’m ingesting when I consume this meal. I know, and I don’t care.
dash of milk
1/2 c. pre-cooked diced potatoes
smattering of caramelized onions
enormous glob of sour cream
There are some time-savers in my omelette process. When I have red potatoes on hand, I dice most of them up right away and either freeze them or par-boil them and put them in the fridge for the week. You’d be surprised how useful they are. I do this prep work because organic potatoes go bad very quickly (note: If you don’t yet eat organic potatoes, here’s why you should consider it).
Another time-saving step is that I caramelize onions while I’m making dinner for the girls or doing dishes, whatever. Y’all know how to do that, right? Cut an onion in half and then slice thinly. Start a skillet over low heat with some oil, add the onions, and let sit nearly untouched for 10 minutes. Then add some salt and mix them up. Cook for a total of about 45 minutes at the lowest heat setting, stirring only every 7-10 minutes or so. These are another item that I can put into almost anything, and it adds an extra layer of deliciousness.
Whisk eggs together with a smidgen of milk, then add to a preheated skillet coated with oil. Season with salt and pepper. In the first minute, push the eggs toward the center in a few places to allow the runny egg to move around the cooked egg. Sprinkle the omelette with potatoes and onions. Cook over medium on the first side for about 4 minutes total. Make sure it is loose, then slide onto a plate, invert the skillet over the top, and flip the omelette back into the hot pan to cook the second side. Sprinkle some cheese on top and let cook for 3-4 more minutes. Slide it out onto a plate and top with too much sour cream, salsa, and more salt and pepper. Eat it while you watch Midnight in Paris again. It’s a little less fun the second time, but a glass of red wine helps.