me cramming veggies down Jack's ...

A while back I got one of those cookbooks that teaches you how to supposedly hide veggies in yummy foods like brownies in order to get your kids to eat them. I had two issues with this,and the less predominant of them was the whole lying to my kid thing. Yeah, I disliked that, but seriously I felt this was doing irrefutable damage to the brownie's rep.

But I tried it. And if you got over the fact that everything was funny colored, that the brownies left your hands coated in a sticky green leafy looking goo and had none of the sweet chewy goodness that we all associate with this delicious food group, it wasn't so bad to my adult mind. Not worth the work, but not that bad.

To a kid's mind? Pure abomination. And really, I had to agree with him.

Given a combination of things -- my freak out factor at eating animals, Mr. Deaux's health, Thing 2 being an allergic rash/reaction waiting to happen, and Thing 1's flat refusal to eat anything that didn't once breathe and bleed -- making healthy food is a challenge in our house at times.

But we have found an answer: juicing.

Not only because I find it immaturely funny to say things like "I am hitting the juice" but also because you can squish an obscene amount of veggies through a juicer (ours is named Jack) add some fruit and ice and poof, you have a smoothy.

But Mommy, smoothies are a treat! They aren't health food! They are yummy.

Yes, baby, they are yummy and I only added green food coloring to make it look gross! So much for the not-lying-to-your-kid bit, eh?

Anyhoo, you want the healthy low down check out the bottom of this entry. I am a non-proselytizing vegetarian so I won't bore you with the gore of meat and dairy if you aren't interested in hearing it. But if you want yummy juice and pictures read on ...

I made two different juices today, and they can be drank straight, with crushed ice in a smoothy, or make faboosh cocktail starters given how fresh they are! {wink, wink, now you too can mean it when you say "Mommy's hittin' the juice!"}

Usually I mix fruits and veggies, today I did them separate-ish so that I could use these as bases to make a couple different smoothies. (There are fruits and veggies in both, but not 50/50)

The fruit one:

There are 2 pink ladies apples, 2 huge pink grapefruit, and one orange. Also a small hunk of ginger. Ginger is really good for juicing, but when I bought it I got this branch of it. You don't need much for flavor with juicing, so take what you need, freeze the rest in a glass jar.

So I shoved all of that through Jack (remember, that's my juicer's name) with the least juicy thing going first. Ginger, apples, oranges, then grapefruit.

That's what real apple juice looks like. Note how non-urine looking it is? Can you tell I have a deep aversion to store bought apple juice? Now here comes the other stuff ...

I think that's the last of the grapefruit juice and the start of the orange. When I got done with all of this it was tasty, but really tart and citrusy. So I looked in the fridge and I have a bag of baby carrots that could pass for an Oompa Loompa.

Given that we had so many and carrot juice is really sweet I added that.

Because I feel that recipes are merely guidelines or suggestions to start with I tend to not pay super good attention to how much of this I use since I cook by look or taste. Therefore I would love to give you precise measurements or amounts, but alas, I cannot. It was something in the area of 6 huge handfuls of baby carrots that made that juice up there. This illustrates quite nicely one of the biggest perks of using Jack -- I would never, even in my most veggie of moments, want to consume six huge handfuls of baby carrots. In fact, a little secret: I hate carrots. The juice I don't mind, it has something to do with the texture. I am not down with eating branches of off young saplings and I am not a big fan of carrots. Go figure. But all of those branches, er, I mean carrots made that juice. All of the nutrients and vitamins are in there, why eat the rest of it? I would need a ton of ranch dressing to even consider consuming that many carrots.

Low and behold, you have pink grapefruit, pink lady apple, orange, carrot and ginger juice. For now I am just calling it Pink & Orange. And yes, I agree, Pink & Orange is crying out for her long lost friend, vodka.

Now the veggie one, and this is where the things get impressive.

There is a bag of Romaine there, igrnoe it. I took it out and never used it, but the sneaky little bastid got in the picture anyway. So you have 3 cucumbers, a bag of kale and a bunch of spinach. Kale was on sale for like 59c a bunch, so we happen to have a ton of it. Lots of good stuff in kale, but I personally don't want to eat it much. Its a real witch to clean because the leaves are all curly and it stays wet for-ev-ah. Spinach on the other hand is a friendly one to clean.

Again, the least juicy gets shoved through Jack first, ginger and kale. Then spinach. As things get stuck or it sounds like Jack is working to hard, I put a half cucumber through.

Cucumber is one juicey mutha.

After I got done it smelled so green and I know kale and spinach are pretty bitter greens, so I put two apples in to make it a bit sweeter.

While I am sure it sounds gross, I swear its actually pretty good. Now that green mixture is good by itself (it has to be super cold, but I promise it is actually tastey) or it can be poured in the blender with fruits to make it sweeter and thicker.

While this isn't really a Betty Crocker list-worthy moment, I was trying to mimic all the really non-domestically challenged women out there who blog foodie stuff. Frankly, I respect the dedication they have even more because not only is real cooking a lot of work, but respect the pictures man! Not only taking them (without dropping your camera into the juicer!) but also putting them in these dang posts. They always load at the top and I am seriously far too lazy for this crap. Enjoy it, I may never do this type of posting again!

*** The healthy babble: Google "juice detox" or "raw foods diet" or watch Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead or Forks Over Knives or read any of the Skinny Bitch/Bastard series. If you wanna be real hard core, go read the China Study. Seriously, I just made it pretty damn easy for you, just get link clicky!

me + atari joystick = injured lab assistant

So I was reading this article detailing a study that found that lactating women, in a nutshell, are more aggressive than their non-lactating counterparts.

The study took a group of lactating moms, formula feeding moms, and non moms and ultimately their level of aggression was determined by how long and loudly they punished an opponent who behaved rudely to them with a blast of a sound.

Now I admit I had to stop reading there because I was laughing too hard and the words were coming out of focus. I wasn't laughing at the study, more the mental picture:

Me sitting in a crisp lab environment. Every surface is so white I look downright tan.

In front of me is sits a plain white table. On that table rests an Atari joystick (not sure why I picture that but I do).

I am told to teach my opponent, whom I just beat in a game, a lesson. My opponent has been a rude little twerp to me.

The room is dead quiet, I appear composed. I take a deep breath.

I suddenly jump on the table and screaming like a mad woman squeeze that button and throw the lever at full throttle blasting my counterpart with a deafeningly loud noise for about 3 minutes all while laughing like a mad woman.

At this point I wipe the tears from my eyes, control the laughter and wishful thinking that I could have been contacted to take part in this uber fun study, and I continue reading.

They ultimately determined that the lactators blasted twice as long and as loud as the none milky ones.

Had another giggle bought there because I was surprised that the article didn't end with "but the study was prematurely canceled when one participant attempted to beat the innocent research assistant about the head and neck with an Atari controller."

Aaaand getting me back on topic again, it got me thinking. Not only do I appear to have a teensy bit of repressed aggression, but given the thoughts I have previously shared with you regarding the full contact sport nature of breast feeding I am wondering why it is that no-one has made this connection before. Why they needed to spend, I am sure, a truck load of money to tell them what logic should have spelled out for free.

Think about it: You take a woman who's boobs inflate with fluid seemingly at random, she has to worry about leaking through all of her clothes, working on very little and interrupted sleep, has a baby that will alternately bite her like vampire while clawing her throat then smile the most angelic smile so that she cannot get angry with him/her, deny her free access to alcohol ... then put her in a lab with a person who is supposed to act rudely to her then give her the choice of how to punish them? Seriously, they didn't have any deaths as a result of this study?!

I think something got swept under the rug.

You know it's an exciting day when ...

Some days are just mediocre at best.

But then there are days when smurf's explode, you get hit on even though you are a walking billboard for Sooo Not Available or Tons of Baggage, or you get to take part in alien breastfeeding (more on that to come, I promise).

Here are examples of somethings you might say, or hear, that could alert you to the fact you are having a special day ... and you might just be with me.

"Whoa, mom you just peeled out in front of a cop!" -- I'd like it noted I said that, my mom was doing the driving.

"Oh, bring it biotch!" -- I said it in the Parent Pick Up Lane for my child's elementary school. More on that to come too. She couldn't actually hear me say it though ... her window was rolled up.

"Don't spank your Woody like that." or "I scored a Woody!" -- both were in reference to the doll from Toy Story, but really, do you think that matters when you actually say something like that out loud?!

"Ohmyfrikkengawd!" -- said by me after my teething 5 month old chewed on a frozen teething ring then wanted to nurse. Further proof how rough breast feeding is!

"Moss is such a misunderstood plant" -- Said by my oldest. I was too confused by the sentiment to ask why. He is much more Zen than his mom.

"Just use the breast milk freezy pouches." -- we were trying to pack an ice chest of beer.

"Oh I need therapy" (followed by vomiting sounds) -- said by my oldest when he was told the "girl" he just said was "cute" was probably as old as his mom.

And I am going to have to revisit this topic, because my brain just left the building and the baby needs feeding. More to come later.

things I've learned about Parent Pick Up

You know all those survival shows? The ones where some dude parachutes into some random place and wears a llama carcass for 7 days and "teaches" you how to survive? I think I have found their next, and most lethal location.

Elementary School Parent Pick-Up Zones.

Seriously, if you are laughing its for one of two reasons. You either get it, or you don't because you have never ventured that far into the dark side. Ah, ignorance is bliss. I will give you adrenaline junkies and drama seekers this heads up -- go to your nearest elementary school right around dismal. If you want to make friends bring a chilled six pack and a box of wine and leave all sharp objects at home.

While I was sitting in the 42 car deep line yesterday with a baby screaming in the back seat waiting for my 4th grader I had a few epiphanies. In no specific order, and I do not admit to actually doing any of this:

• When you find your self wanting to say, or hearing someone else say "Bring it, biotch!" while waiting for your child, it may mean someone has taken things a little too far.
• The child on the playground who hip-checked their way to the front of the line at the monkey bars because rules don't apply to them ... they grow up to be the jackholes who pass me and my 41 other line-waiting-rule-abiding-compatriots and zip in front of someone who has accidentally left a car sized gap because they have slipped into a waitingformykidinonelongassedline coma because the rules still don't apply to them.
• When describing the parent pick up process to your spouse, who has never ventured that far into the great wilderness, and the only descriptive verbs you can utilize all rhyme with "ducking" and you can't say them in front of the kids, your kids may go to the same school as mine.
• It is better to quietly hope for a pigeon to poop on the head of the moron who drives on the wrong side of the road because they can't seem to understand the difference between right and left rather than to tell them they should go back to kindergarten because they seem to have missed that critical lesson. The kindergarten teacher really has enough on her hands as is.
• Accept it going in: there are two lines that merge only at the very end. I will be in the slower one, no matter which I chose. Always.
• Its damn fun to fantasize about running over the parents who won't use the crosswalks while calmly explaining to your children that this is precisely why we always use crosswalks, but its not a good thing to actually do.
• Keeping that last epiphany in mind, maybe I should stick with taking the car and not drive the truck, ever, to parent pick up. I don't pride myself on things like self control.
• Yelling at the teacher whose sporting a funny smelling orange vest and sweating his/her underpaid and under appreciated butt off keeping your child educated AND safe doesn't make the line go any faster, but it does make you look like the raging asshat you apparently are.

Having been a teacher I can tell you that I was always baffled why normally composed parents seemed so frazzled and deranged at parent pick up. Now, I know. I am a rational woman. Heck I think I am even a pretty nice person, always trying to give people the benefit of the doubt and all that. But by the time I pull up to have my ten year old get in the car and say "sheesh mom, what took so long?!" its a bit hard to keep the sane facade up.

Oh who am I kidding, I haven't been pulling that off for years.

begging, boobies, & battle cries

I am departing from my norm here, but I would ask that you bear with me. My hope is that this will reach some people and maybe be of some help to myself and my teammates.

If you want the short and sweet version, here you go:

If you can do anything, anything, to support my 3-Day team as we raise yet again another substantial amount of money for breast cancer I would appreciate it. Anything means anything: donate money, donate goodies for a raffle, help spread the links, bring us a beer while we are walking 60 miles over the course of 3 days in the hope to raise awareness and funds that will wipe breast cancer off the map ... you know, whatever you can do, we would appreciate it.

www.the3day.org/goto/chrissy

(some of my links aren't working so just c&p)

This will be my 6th year walking in the 3 Day. My doing so was, like most big things in my life that I take on, completely unexpected and a bit haphazard. Breast cancer had affected my family, my life, and I had enough pink ribbon crap to choke a moose ... but I hadn't done anything. Buying the pink ribbon stuff doesn't do anything on an individual level, no matter how much they say the proceeds go toward fighting cancer. Its like 10 cents. I would need a lot of water bottles and socks to cure cancer at 10 cents a pop.

So when a friend asked me if I wanted to do this walk called the "3 Day" I said sure, thinking it was like normal walks. Sane people walks. It wasn't until I had signed up, and glossed over all the read-this-before-you-agree messages that I realized the peeps walking in the 3 Day go 20 miles a day for 3 days. That seemed a bit challenging, but seriously, its just walking, right? I can do that. Oh how naive. The part that scared me was the fundraising. At that time you had to raise a minimum of $2,200 to walk (today it is $2,300).

The fundraising was by far, and still is, the hardest. People work hard for their money, and they have a hard time giving any away regardless of how valiant the cause. I got so sick of hearing"we have to check with our corporate office" which is a weeny way of saying "no." I begged family members with letters and emails -- recall it runs in my family so these people should be easy to fleece, right? WRONG! -- I sat outside of a store with a jar like a girl scout. I sat outside of my church and had 99% of the people be kind to me, and 2 people decide to yell at me (long story, its another post in itself). I did everything I could think of, and after a lot of misery, most of which I have actually blocked out, I had $3,000.

And I swore this would be my first, and my last walk.

After all, I had just busted my keester to raise all this money so that I could walk 60 miles, sleep in a tent, eat "camp food," and do all of this in Ari-freaking-zona where it would be 100 degrees the whole time. I was quite sure I would do my part, wear my pink and sweat it out, and when all was said and done I would file this under "I experienced it and can now say I don't like it" right next to brussel sprouts.

So when Day One came and I dragged my exhausted but-not-yet-sore butt out of bed at 4 AM so I could get to opening ceremonies I was feeling pretty certain this would be a one time gig.

Five years later I am still begging for money so that I can do it for round 6. Seriously, I challenge any of you to sit through the opening ceremonies and not sob like a baby and feel emotionally committed to return year after year.

I have walked with a broken foot in a cast/astronaut boot and I have walked nearly 6 months pregnant. I will never willingly NOT do this walk.

Its also not just because I know that curing one cancer will open the flood gates in curing others, after all the treatments for some cancers are precisely the same as those for breast cancer .Its not just because I have seen women I love go through lumpectomies, mastectomies, and wig purchases. Its not just because I have to go have my boobs crushed and imaged twice a year because of my own risk. Its not just because I have had a lump removed and had to wait on pins and needles for 3 days to know that it wasn't cancer ... this time. Its not just because as a walker/fundraiser I have had countless people choose to share their stories of their own battles, or the memories of those they have lost with me, and I cannot help but view this as a responsibility now. Its not just because I wear a ribbon in memory of someone I miss dearly.

Its all of that and more. Lots more.

The only reason I could not walk again this year is because I can't meet my fundraising minimum. Bringing us back to the point of this post, and the uncomfortable part where I hit you up for stuff.

We are doing a raffle and we need some awesome stuff for it. Anything you can donate or get for us (handmade items, iPods, gift cards, anything cool) would be appreciated. Donations of any amount would be awesome. Get me in touch with anyone you think could help, I will gladly beg them for you! Share my donation page, our website, like us on facebook, there is lots you can do without even spending money!

If you still want to know why I do this, check out the picture. This is the shirt we wore while walking last year. Every year we wear these shirts and proudly display who we are walking for.

I know and/or am related to eleven people on that shirt.

I don't wear pink because it looks good, quite the contrary pink looks horrible on me. But to walkers like me, pink is more than a color, its a battle cry.

My donation page is www.the3day.org/goto/chrissy if you are having a hard time getting it to open. My team page is www.the3day.org/goto/teambettyboobs.

tootin' my horn

So I am trying to not totally suck and the whole stay at home wife thing. I rock at the stay at home mom part, the baby is still in one piece and hasn't needed therapy (yet) -- what more can you ask?!

Its the domestic crap I am bombing at. So I am trying to get organized, clean out, and set goals.

Today I did a total Betty Crocker thing and made my own recipe cards. Seriously, how lame, --er I mean, how housewifey, organized is that? Quaint, I know. Yes, I feel a little ill too.

But since I am cooking more, (I am, I have pictures to prove it and will post them soonish) I needed to be organized with the recipes. Yes, real recipes, not just the directions on the side of the box. This is a huge departure from my norm.

So I found like 375 different print-your-own-free-template things online and I either had to pick between gagolicious teddy bears or cows and roosters, neither of which were very me. Then I had ones that required a recipe author and this meant I had to come up with a smart ass names for each one which was both time consuming and bound to get me in trouble at some point.

"Mommy did Manuel Labor give us this recipe for enchiladas?"

So I wound up making my own. It took five minutes to make a design that was neither juvinile or creepy then I just had to type the recipes up. That took much longer. Much better, and I have no frightening clown-like dolls smiling at me from the side of the card. Score!

boobie milk and breast cancer

Okay so remember a while back how I posted that Thelma and Louise were going to be part of a world record? The Big Latch on was fun and I seriously have been working the whole "world record attempting boobs" thing for weeks now.

But it was getting to be old news.

So now my boobs (and my milk) are going to contribute toward research that may someday lead to a more effective indication of a woman's personal breast cancer risk!

What, you say? How is this possible? Well I saw a thingie on facebook that said they need (1) women who are currently nursing and (2) have either had or will have a breast biopsy.

Um, check and check! Who'da ever thought having my ta-tas cut into previously would make me smile and say "hey, I can help!" Long story short, and sans medical mumbo jumbo, there may be cells in breast milk that could possess markers that are indicative of a woman's potential risk to develop cancer. By gathering info from women who have had or will have biopsies in the near future and following them to see if they are ever diagnosed with breast cancer the researchers at University of Massachusetts Amherst feel they might be able to identify how to spot the alarm bells. But they need boobie milk.

And I can make boobie milk.

So I signed up and will be getting a milk collection kit, and from the pictures it looks rather Bond-space-age-coolio. I will tell you more about it once I get it.

Breast cancer is something that runs in my family, and as a 6 time 3 Day walker I am totally down for anything I can do to nix cancer from reality.