Tag Archives: collective genius

Daisy cooks, too.

30 May

Now, I know Violet has been the resident recipe poster, but I can get down with some cooking too. Violet asked me to share a few little tips and tricks that I’ve shared with her, so here you go..

I have great eaters. I really can’t complain, they will eat just about anything. Why? Not sure. Is it luck? Did I expose them to different foods when they were young, via my eating habits & breastmilk? Who knows. Maybe a good combo of both. Even with my great eaters, one of which (Diva) lists raw broccoli as one of her favorite foods, I still like to sneak in even MORE vegetables than they would normally eat.

Funny story, when Diva & Intuitive were about 2 or so, we were grocery shopping, strolling through the produce section, in fact. Diva begins a full on tantrum because she thought I didn’t put broccoli in the cart. Can you imagine this little pig-tailed girl, screaming her little brains out because she thought that mean old mommy DIDN’T get broccoli? The laughter coming from the other shoppers was pretty excellent when they realized that she was yelling for broccoli.

Anyways, “hiding” veggies in meals isn’t a new concept. There are cookbooks written on the subject. These are just some of the things that I’ve done.

Making spaghetti? Using jar sauce? Good shit, go for it. Whenever I make it, I will use a large grater and grate a few carrots, some squash, zucchini, finely cut spinach. Dump the jar of sauce in a big saucepan and dump the veggies in, simmer it all while your pasta is cooking. The veggies will cook down, and be completely unnoticed by even the pickiest eaters. My kids KNOW I do this, and couldn’t care less!

Tacos? Grate some of the same veggies into the meat while you’re cooking it. Same concept as the sauce, noone will notice.

Has your kiddo said no to baby food? Is she ready for the real stuff? Don’t worry. I’m sure you have 8 million extra jars of baby food sitting around, so USE them for your cooking. Dump a jar of carrots into your spaghetti sauce. Any veggie, really. Have some fruit ones? Make your kiddo some PLAIN oatmeal, and put some in the oatmeal.

Sneaking good stuff in is easy. It’s easy, and no one will ever know.

You’ll probably feel kinda bad ass for pulling a fast one on your family.

Any other ways you guys sneak some good stuff in? Let us know!

-Daisy

Life happens. Plans often don’t.

7 Mar

I recently lived through the experience of sending my youngest, my baby, off to school for the first time. You might be thinking..

“Daisy, you have 3 children. You should be used to sending them off to school”

In all honesty, before Diva & Intuitive started school, I thought that sending them off would be the hardest milestone ever. At that point in time, it was. Watching my little preemies walking into their new classroom, with backpacks that were nearly bigger than them.. Wow. Tough stuff. I cried. I also cried at nearly every school event, Mother’s Day program, pre-k “graduation”, etc.

Please, let’s not discuss how goofy the First Husband thought I was when I had tears rolling down my face as Diva and Intuitive put on a rousing rendtition of “3 Blind Mice” at their pre-k graduation. Thanks.

I couldn’t imagine that sending a 3rd child off to school would be anywhere near as difficult as sending my sweet first babies off. I never expected that it would be TOUGHER than the first time. Well…

Once Diva and Intuitive went off to the magical fun land of school, can anyone guess what happened? I’ll give you a hint.

Handsome and me. All day. Together. Alone.

I was so used to doing everything with 3 sidekicks, and dividing my attention between Diva, Intuitive, & Handsome. That was my life. Errands with 3, buckling 3 into the car, getting 3 out of the car, doing head counts while we walked around Target, simultaneously pushing 3 kids on the swings (it’s possible, I swear). Making breakfast, lunch, snacks; it was an assembly line. In one fell swoop, I was down to doing things with ONE child for 7 or 8 hours a day. My usual planning and leaving early to get places on time was pointless. Do you know how EASY it is to get somewhere with ONE child in tow? Handsome was upset about Diva & Intuitive being gone for.. oh.. about 10 minutes. Then he realized that he was solo with Mommy. THEN he realized that a decision didn’t require a 2/3 majority. If he wanted a bagel for lunch, he got a bagel for lunch.

Two years later, it was time for him to go to magical fun land.

About 2 months before school started for Handsome, after the girls had already started 1st grade, (pre-k works a little differently in my town. He started in January) I began to realize that things were going to CHANGE. Massive, mega, life changing, scary CHANGE. My sidekick was LEAVING ME. Not only was he leaving me; He. Was. EXCITED. What had I done wrong? Wasn’t he supposed to want to be home, hanging solo with Mommy FOREVER?!

Oh. No, he’s not. He’s ready for school. He’s well adjusted and ready to have a structured day at school with friends his age. We (I) spent weeks preparing. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t break down and cry like a baby a few times. Never in front of him. Mostly on the phone with the Mayor, or the First Husband. More often with poor Terry. That man has dealt with many tears. I cried when I ordered his backpack. I cried when I got his lunchbox. I cried when he turned 5, just a few days before school started. I had him try on his backpack and hold his lunchbox 2 days before school started, so it wouldn’t be a shock on the first day of school. He just seemed like such a baby, STILL.

So on his first day, the Mayor, First Husband, Terry, & Mommy took all 3 to school. We all went to Handsome’s classroom. It was buzzing with a gaggle of excited kids, a couple of excited teachers, some excited parents, and a few moms that looked like I felt. I tried to hold it together. I really, really did. I got Handsome set up with an activity, The Mayor and the First Husband walked Diva & Intuitive to their class. I made sure he was all set, and began my goodbyes.

I believe that’s when the waterworks began, as well.

We walked outside the classroom, me, with tears on my cheeks and stood there for a moment. Then, I noticed a window. So I peered in like a peeping tom with the Mayor by my side. Then, Handsome’s wonderful teacher noticed us. She was also Diva & Intuitive’s teacher, so she knows enough about my insane attachment to my children. We smiled a sheepish smile, mine riddled with tears, and started to back away from the window. She came out the door and held out a tissue and a book to me. “The Night Before Kindergarten”. A tale of a child’s night before the first day of school, and the parents all crying, but realizing that the kids are happy, so all is well. We laughed. I cried more. The First Husband laughed more. The Mayor’s eyes were slightly misty. Terry was hungry.

The Mayor & First Husband had blocked out part of their day to make sure that Mommy would be ok. We all went to breakfast, and I only cried once more. I held my phone the entire day, just in case the school called.

3 o’clock came, and I picked up my group. It was as if they had all been going to school together FOREVER. The energy flying out of him was incredible. He was almost vibrating from excitement. And Diva & Intuitive! They were so excited that their younger brother was in school with them. They each told me about every single time they saw him during the day; at lunch, on the playground, walking to his class. All my worry and sadness were wiped out with the happy smiles and stories I got from them. Handsome wanted to call EVERYONE in our family to tell them about his day, and we did.

All my time spent at home with them was not in vain. It made them the well adjusted, smart, happy kids they are today. I (with a little help from the Mayor & the First Husband) got them prepared to be independent kids, ready to learn and succeed. Hovering, planning, over thinking, teaching them, running our day to day lives like our own preschool; it was all worth it.

In my short, but full, journey through mommyhood, I’ve learned that 90% of the plans you make as a mom get thrown out the fucking window.

Whether it’s what you’re going to feed your kid, or how you’re going to react to them starting school; things don’t always go as planned. Rolling with the punches will get you further than planning.

What are some things that you’ve planned for that have gone in a different direction?

-Daisy

© Daisy and Violet 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Why Daisy’s life wouldn’t make a good television show.

28 Feb

My mother, the Mayor, has often said:

“We should have a fucking reality show”

Well, you know, if she used language that crass and stuff.

Which she does. Sorry you misunderstood.

I’ve often found myself agreeing with her, but I’m led to believe that just about everyone I know probably thinks that they should have a “fucking reality show.” Sure, the crap that happens to us is funny. To us.

I doubt that Diva proclaiming

“I want to be a show girl when I grow up”

would translate well to network television. (In my defense, we were watching a cake decorating show where they made a cake for a Vegas show) I’m betting that my father, the “First Husband,”  proclaiming that he wasn’t going to buy her pasties would probably go over like breaking wind in a place of worship. (Like how I made that sound SUPER-DUPER mature??)

We certainly don’t throw fisticuffs often enough, or chairs for that matter.

I’ve never sat down to dinner with Violet, had a few (15) drinks, called her a raving lunatic bitch, and thrown the table at her. Sure, during one of our numerous spats, I’ve thought all those things, but in reality television, there is no think, only DO.

So how about a scripted show based off of little old Daisy’s crazy shenanigans? Let’s see. I am pretty particular about my television viewing. My all time favorites?

  • Weeds
  • Californication
  • Mad Men
  • Breaking Bad

Let’s break down why my life just wouldn’t translate into television gold, as these shows have.

I am not a super fuck up with tremendously questionable morals. Sure, I can get a little loosey-goosey in the morality department, but, uh.. within reason.

The main character in all these shows is the head of the family. Where is he or she most of the time? Out selling/buying/making drugs; getting drunk with random ladies/gentlemen, sleeping with random folks, oftentimes on the hood of a car, or in an alley.

I’m the head of my family. Where am I most of the time? Hovering over my children helping them with homework, in the kitchen cleaning or cooking, vacuuming, or doing laundry. After 8 pm; once the kiddos are asleep, you can find me watching my stories.

Moral of the story?

My life wouldn’t make good tv, since…
someecards.com - I cook dinner, not meth. Daisy and Violet
-Daisy

© Daisy and Violet 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Don’t Let Violet Around Your Children

27 Feb

Why was Daisy so worried about my foray into Motherhood? Here’s why: I’ve taught her kids a variety of inappropriate shit. Here are a few of my favorite examples.

    • Driving in the car one day, we passed a small, yellow school bus. With two four year olds and a two year old in the back seat, I yelled, “Look, it’s a short bus!” For the next several days, the kids would yell “short bus” at every opportunity.
    • Don’t know why, but I felt it was necessary to teach Diva, Intuitive, and Handsome the word “tacky.” Boy, did they take to that one! And as evidence of their collective genius, they understood its context, even while in diapers. Daisy reported to me that the following day, as they zoomed around Target, the children pointed to objects and people and screamed, “TACKY!!!” at the top of their lungs.
    • My favorite – absolutely, 100% favorite Twins-Plus-One moment – was actually on the day that my dog died. Depressed beyond measure, I decided to pay Daisy’s family a little visit in hopes that some kiddo time would cheer me up. A few days prior, I taught Diva to say, “I am my mother’s daughter” because, well, she is. I was changing two-year-old Handsome’s diaper, and as you all know, you gotta tuck Mr. Winkie into the diaper so it won’t spray piss all over the kid’s clothes. As I was doing this, he fussed and grabbed at his junk. I said, “You wanna tuck your own penis? Go right on ahead.” Out of nowhere, from across the house, Diva yells, “I love to touch the penis! I am my mother’s daughter!” Twenty minutes of hysterical, tear-inducing laughter ensued. And that’s how I coped with the death of my doggie.

© Daisy and Violet 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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