AmazonMidwife

(Abby, I couldn't wait until Friday to post this.)

I was hunting through the fridge trying to turn leftovers into a hot lunch and decided to take the leftover mashed potatoes and make potato pancakes. (How hard could it be? The latkes I made for our Hanukkah celebration were the bomb!) So I heated up some olive oil in a pan, and threw a couple of spoons of potatoes in. It was only when I tried to turn the 'pancakes' over that I realized I needed a binding agent and remembered that the latkes had eggs in then. Working on the principle of 'better late than never' (and knowing that the result was not going to be pretty) I stirred up some eggs and poured them directly into the skillet, figuring I could make some kind of hash looking thing. Meanwhile, the Boy followed his nose, looking leerily at the pan. The conversation went something like this:

Boy: Ugh! What's that? I don't think I'll like it.
Me: (stirring in some garlic and salt) It's made from the leftover mashed potatoes. It's like latkes. You'll love it.
Boy: Well, it doesn't look like latkes.
Me: Well, this is a different recipe. It's (grasping wildly at straws).... a British version. Yeah, it's like egg & chips!
Boy: Okay. But do I have to eat the vegetables? (I was warming up some roasted veggies as well...in a separate pan...I'm not that bad a cook!)
Me: Only if you want a cookie for dessert. Otherwise it's fruit.
Girl: (coming in) What is THAT!?
Boy: It's the English version of latkes. Egg & chips, mom says, but not like potato chips. She used the leftover mashed potatoes.
Girl: Oh! Okay!

They're eating it with gusto as I type. I am darning myself to heck for a week for blaming this mess on the British, but otherwise remain unrepentant.

I surfed over to Sundays With Stretchy Pants today to read her latest blog entry and was in the middle of leaving a smart-assed remark (my specialty) when the marvelous phrase in the title came tumbling out of my fingertips. Eureka! It seemed to illustrate some ideas that I've been mulling over (we ENFPs and our internal processing; there's all sorts of things percolating in the dark recesses of my subconscious.) I promptly called dibs on it, and hereby lay claim to all rights and privileges thereof. As my friends at The Stranger say, "the internet is a race" and this time I won, 'cause there was no such phrase on Google. (I just checked.) You may use the phrase as long as you credit/link me. (My internal language police made me change the spelling here to reflect a Spanish adverb, but what's an 'L' between friends?)

But I digress. So, the following wasn't supposed to be part of the original vida intelectual, but a few exchanges I just had with the Boy illustrated the concept, and more importantly overcame my writer's inertia. So, I'll save the redux for another time when I have time AND can overcome inertia (aka a blue moon). There's a lengthy set-up, because that's how I write. If you want brevity, go find a paid journalist.

So the Boy is writing some sentences due to an incident last night. Perhaps the sentences themselves will be the best descriptor:

"Spitting at someone is a nasty, gross & violent thing to do. It could cause someone to do something violent and hurtful to me."

I am so glad to see the back end of February, despite the subfreezing temperatures and blustery entry of March. Even with our huge, northern exposure windows & full-spectrum bulbs, February always wears me down. I get through on caffeine & Dar Williams' Mortal City song February.

THIS February was made extra special by our first visit ever from the lice fairy. Of course it happened around Brigidmas so at least I could dedicate all the futile-except-for-lowering-my-squick-factor cleaning, not to mention the laundry. But the nitcombing took 2-3 hours every night for two weeks. Have you seen the Girl's hair? It's THICK and over 2 ft. in length. The Boy wriggles like an eel, and it's more difficult to comb one's own hair than one would think. (The 'Savant escaped infestation due to his curly locks, I guess. And his efforts to comb my hair would have been ruinous to our partnership had he continued.)

But it wasn't all bad. The Girl & I watched Ken Burns' "The Civil War" and had some good discussions, not all of which were related to history. I learned how to make some lice rid hair pomade with essential oils which proved to be quite beneficial to my dry scalp issues. Think it must be nearly as effective as the chemical stuff we used the first time, since I combed 6 live lice out after they had been poisoned for the 15 minutes directed. Damned bugs are gonna take over the world. I also got over thinking that lice would be the worst parasitical infestation in the world (and I have experience on this, after managing an ICF/MR, people) and moved on to thinking preventively. We're combing weekly & have invested in a RobyComb, which has kept me sane by allowing me to distinguish between itchy winter scalp & reinfestation. So, the lice fairy has done the job, and I hope, will not need to come back.

Enough about bugs. In other news, I taught a large Childbirth Education class, and by the end, the families who weren't working with us & planning a homebirth had switched to providers who would respect their choices and work hard to give them the best possible experience, whatever that might be. 7 more babies to be born gently as possible----GOAL! I also didn't get a ticket driving like a bat out of hell to Logan to (just) catch a baby, so on the midwifery front, it's all good, if busy.

This is what passes for banter in our house:
Boy: "Dad, choose a number between 1 and 10."
'Savant: "4.7853629105"
Boy: "I said choose one number between 1 and 10."
'Savant: "I did. There's an infinite amount of numbers between 1 and 10"

(The Boy was trying to sandbag his dad into talking about his new favorite obsession, Ben 10, and gets hit with a math lecture---another example of Machiavellian Homeschooling at its finest. But it goes on:)

Boy: "No, Dad. I want you to choose a regular number so I can tell you which alien you like the best."

Instead of seizing the opportunity to expand on his math lecture, the 'Savant goes wacky/wicked:

'Savant: "I will if you will answer me these questions three."
Boy: "Okay."

Obviously, we've been slacking on our Python tutelege. But it's pretty clear to me that we're doing pretty well on teaching geek.