The Dynamics of Feeding a Deca-Family

Feeding a family of ten can be a problem. Not that it's harder to cook for ten than it is for one or two; in fact, I think it's easier. (But I've cooked for the entire Relief Society before, and enjoyed it.)

No, the problems arise in considering who will eat what. Once again, this topic is spurred by my Body Image class. We are talking about nutrition right now. So I had to keep track of everything I ate for three days and then turn it in to my teacher. It was a bad three days: baked potatoes (which need butter), meatloaf, lots of salads (which need dressing, although I do use light, and I use it sparingly), missed breakfasts, late lunches, etc. As I talked to Dollie about my atrocious eating, I did make an excuse for myself by saying that it's been harder to do good meals since I've been in school—which is true. As we talked, she said something that made me answer that I only cook ONE meal for the family. Period. If they don't like it, then too bad. She suggested keeping a pot of soup in the fridge for the picky eaters—something like five-bean soup, or corn chowder, which are easy to make. Then they could opt out of dinner, and just heat up the soup.

Well, I still don't want to play restaurant. But, here's the real issue:

Over the course of my kids' lives I've had, all at the same time:

• one or two kids who won't eat any meat unless it is a hamburger
• five or six kids who won't eat any fish or seafood
• one kid who won't eat vegetables—especially if they're green; he won't eat most fruits either
• more kids who think the only edible veggie is corn or raw carrots, and if they see even the most miniscule piece of anything that looks like a veggie cooked into another dish (like a casserole), they will dissect that dish and remove even the tiniest bit of veggie matter
• a couple of kids who don't like rice, not of any color
• three or four who won't touch beans
• one who doesn't like the texture of pasta
• none who eat salad—unless there's twice as much Ranch dressing as veggies, and then I think they only lick off the dressing
• four who won't eat tomato sauce (and all of them prefer Alfredo)
• one who refuses to eat soup (it can't be called "soup" or look like soup)
• two kids who don't like milk; it's only good for wetting their sugary cereal
  
  That pretty much eliminates the entire food pyramid.

Now, if I'm trying to feed everyone, and keep them happy—and healthy—just what am I supposed to prepare? And if I did want to keep a spare, back-up meal in the fridge for them to heat up when I cook something nasty like . . . say, lasagna . . . what would that be? I will admit, though, that the boys get a lot more daring and a lot less picky when they hit about twelve years old. Then they'd eat just about anything—and a lot of it!

No, I will just have to stick with my mantra of, "If you don't like it, too bad. This is not a restaurant." :-)

Phase 3 . . . Complete? Oh Dear!

I was going to post about how I'd finished phase 3 of the kitchen; the counters. But I've en-"countered" a glitch.

I did actually paint the countertops with a product called Giani Liquid Granite. Although I wouldn't really say they look like granite, they do look awesome! But just before I went to bed last night I saw a terrible thing! A little hole has peeled away right in the middle of my "snack bar." Oh, dear. Well, Giani guarantees 100% satisfaction. I just barely wrote them and let them know that I'm not feeling very satisfied right now. :-( So I'll let you know how that all turns out.

In the meantime, I'll tell you about our adventure, and I'll still post the before and after pics.

First, before I worked on the counters, Bruce fixed up the whole microwave thing. So phase "somewhere down the road" really is finished. To get the microwave into the right space he had to take out the center cabinet and move it higher. Then, you'll recall, he had to do some re-wiring and put in an outlet for the microwave. I'd thought it would hard-wire into the house, being a wall-mounted appliance, but it has an electrical cord on the top. So Bruce also had to put the new outlet inside the newly-moved cabinet, and make a hole in the bottom of the cabinet for the plug to fit through. He did a fantastic job; I have an awesome husband!

gotta love a man who'll work in the kitchen!

As for the counters, I ordered my "liquid granite" at the end of August—right as I was starting school. So I was impatiently waiting for fall break, when I'd have 72 solid hours to work on it (it takes about two days, with all the drying time).

First I had to use their awesome black primer. Just the primer looked pretty cool on the counters, but that would really be a lot of black in my kitchen, wouldn't it? Then I sponged on the other paints, and finally added the topcoat. It looked really terrific! Until it—probably got a chip somehow—and peeled.

:-(

I'm sure the company will do something to help me out. They are fairly new, and they want people to love them—as all companies do. But I wonder if I'll have to start the entire process over again? Because, yes, I am fairly determined not to revert to 1990's mauve counters.

before

after

before

after

I'm Dyeing Here

Textiles is a fun class! Just last week we went out in the parking lot and burned fabrics. And now for my mid-term project I get to dye fabric using all-natural dyes (fruit, vegetables, flowers—even dirt). I need to try at least three different things, with two different variables each; for example, boiled rose

petals with salt; boiled rose petals without salt.

So my house has been a laboratory for the last two days. It's been interesting. And rather smelly. I could have used so many things that it was difficult to narrow it down to three. But since I wanted strong colors I finally decided on Beets, Red Cabbage, and Saffron (the world's most expensive dye).

First I tried beets. I chopped 10 oz. of scrubbed beets into a pot and added 1 cup of water and 1/4 cup white vinegar. Bring to a boil and add a square of clean, white cotton fabric. Let simmer for 30 minutes. While it was cooking Brandon came into the kitchen and told me he thought sweet and sour pork sounded really good about then. Yep. It did smell kind of like sweet and sour sauce. The fabric turned a beautiful raspberry color (or maybe it was beet-color). But when I rinsed it out it faded to a pink—almost mauve—color. Bummer. My second attempt was with the fabric first soaked in salt water and then just put into a pile of 10 oz. of shredded beets. It turned out even lighter. I did one more beet-dye job, salt water (instead of vinegar) and shredded beets, boiled then strained (so I only used the juice with no solids in it). It's pretty much the same as the first one.

Then I tried red cabbage. This smell did not inspire anyone to desire food. Quite the opposite. I did pretty much the same thing with the cabbage as I did with the beets. I got a pretty purply-blue fabric with the cabbage broth. The second piece was done overnight, with pieces of cabbage in the broth. And if you think boiling cabbage stinks, you should have a whiff after it's been sitting out all night! The fabric turned blueish-purple with blue spots; I assume the spots were where the cabbage actually touched the fabric.

Saffron was next. Saffron sells for about $250 per ounce. This is because it is "the stigmas from the crocus sativus flower. There are only 3 stigmas—referred to as saffron threads—per flower. Saffron is hand harvested and it takes about 13,125 threads to weigh one ounce." This is not my own superior intelligence speaking here; I got this information online. Anyway, I have a whole bottle of saffron that my mom brought me from Portugal about 16 years ago (apparently it's cheap there). It's not a spice that I use all that often; so I mixed 1 cup hot water with 1 Tbsp. salt and 1 tsp. saffron, and in went the fabric. Seriously, that's like $25 for a cup of dye! For my variable I did the second batch with 1 cup cold water, 1/4 cup white vinegar and 1 tsp. saffron. Let it sit overnight and, voila! Beautiful yellow fabrics!

After I took the fabrics out of their dye-baths this morning I mixed up the leftover juices: cabbage + beets at a 2 to 1 ratio; salt/saffron with 1/4 cup beet juice and vinegar/saffron with 2 Tbsp. beet juice. And just for giggles I mixed 1 cup hot water with 1 Tbsp. cinnamon, 1/2 tsp. cloves and 1/2 tsp. vanilla and tossed some fabric into that. The cabbage/beet mixture is just an ugly gray; very disappointing. The two saffron mixes just look yellow unless you put them next to the plain saffron pieces; then they look more yellow-orange. Surprisingly, the beets seem to make the weakest dye.

Now I'm thinking of chopping up some of the Deadly Nightshade that grows in my side yard and seeing what that does, too. It's fun!

I had hoped that my kids would think this was cool and would want to play with me, but the only interest they showed was when Brandon mentioned the sweet and sour pork. Oh well.

Here's what I ended up with:

clockwise from right: beets + cabbage, cabbage juice, cabbage overnight, saffron with vinegar, saffron with salt, saffron with beets and vinegar, saffron with beets and salt, beet juice and salt overnight, shredded beets and salt, diced beets and vinegar, cinnamon. fancy, huh?

But should I try the deadly nightshade plant? And if I do, should I throw my pan away when I'm done?

Definition

I've talked about this before, but it keeps coming up.

Yesterday in my Body Image class we had to say the name of each person in the room—knowing everyone's name is part of the grade. We have done "getting to know you"-type exercises from the beginning of the semester, as well as putting name-tags on our desks each class period; and the teacher (Dollie) calls us each by name every time she wants to hear from us. So, starting at one end of the room and going around desk by desk, we had to call out each person's name. Some students were more well-known than others. When they got to me they were stuck for a name, but someone did say, "Mom of Eight." Dollie said, "What's her name? She's more than just 'Mom of Eight.' "

Yes, I am more than just "Mom of Eight." But even when I describe myself to people I say that I have eight kids. For example, look at "about me" in the sidebar. Yep. Maybe I'll have to change that description. "Mom of Eight" is part of who I am, but is that THE THING that defines me? I'd like to think that I'm a little more multi-faceted than that.

How would you define/describe me? And, even better, how do you define/describe yourself? I'm really curious to know.

The Great Kitchen Project, in Progress . . .

Last weekend I did finish phase 2: the painting of the kitchen walls. And I went down one side of the hallway as well. And, on top of that, Bruce finished phase "somewhere down the road," too. Unfortunately, that phase needs to be redone. I'll tell you all about it:

At about the time I started on the kitchen, our microwave totally pooped out. This isn't such a big deal—I pretty much grew up without a microwave, and didn't have my own until after 10 years of marriage, after all. Hmm. It was very convenient for re-heating leftovers though.

Well, last weekend Bruce and I were shopping at the D.I. (the local thrift store) for a much-needed bookshelf. They didn't have the bookshelf, but they did have a white, over-the-range microwave oven for $10. We took it to an electrical outlet and discovered that it worked, and also that it still had a Corelle plate with a paper towel and a chicken nugget in it. Yuck! Then we saw another one that looked even newer and better (but no chicken nuggets inside) and it still worked too! So we bought it, and Bruce installed it. This was a bigger job than you might think, involving adding a new outlet and moving the cabinet above the stove up a little higher. But he got it done, it looked lovely and it worked. For 24 hours.

See, our house was wired by idiots. Seriously. The living room, all the kitchen lights, some of the kitchen outlets, the front yard light and, I think, Brandon & Ryan's bedroom, and maybe the garage door-opener are all on the same circuit. This means that if, say, in the winter-time when it's dark in the evening, we decide to vacuum our house while someone is cooking dinner, all the power in the living room and kitchen goes out. Well, guess which breaker the microwave ended up on?

So while we were working in the kitchen, and Kaylie was watching TV, and Rachel was coloring in the living room, someone decided to reheat something. It tripped the breaker—twice. The third time it just blew the fuse in the microwave.

Undaunted, Bruce went to get another microwave. He is going to find a different way of wiring it and get it installed this weekend.

And I will be working on phase 3: counter-tops. "But, wait a minute," you say. "Paint? On the counter-tops?"

You'll see. Exciting things are happening in my kitchen!