Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Halloween, the pre-post.

It's go time for Halloween in 30 minutes.  Kid is effin' EXCITED.  We've been counting down Halloween for 18 days.  In 4-year-old terms, that's like 47 years.

Let me preface this next statement by saying that I LOVE Kade's pre-school.  Ok, now I'll say that I'm a little irked that they told them to wear their costumes all day today.  Yes, it's Halloween and it makes good sense that a costume that I spent $20 should get some good use.  But no, you can't trust a 4-year-old to not roll around in cat shit on the playground while wearing said costume that also needs to be worn that same evening for trick-or-treating with no inbetween time for washing.  And no, I'm not buying two costumes, because I'm extremely cheap.  I was going to pull out last year's Spiderman costume and was all going to be like "yeah, I'm the coolest fucking Mom ever!" and let him wear that to school and change into Captain America for the evening round of asking strangers for candy.  But then I couldn't find it.  And realized that I think I gave it to some good friends who have a little boy.  Because at the time I probably said to myself, "When in the hell will he wear this again?"  Turns out, the answer was next Halloween.  Oops.  But hey, I'm still a resourceful Mom that was out of wine so was able to come up with something not quite near as good but still workable, a football player!  He's got TWO football jerseys!  I can put paint on his face!  He'll love that shit!  So BAM!  Mom saves the day that she almost ruined!

The Hubs is not a fan of dressing up.  Whomp wah.  But I did create a work suitable costume for him for work 3 years ago.  And he's dead sexy.  Mah man!  Yow!  (I know that's a little much, but that's how I feel about this guy, he's the peanut butter to my jelly, seriously, favorite person in the whole wide world.)  Here is in 2009 dressed as "God's Gift to Women", but back off ladies, he's all mine.

I love dressing up, and this year my costume was F to the REE!  (That's free, for you non-spellers out there.)  Unfortunately, no one got it.  Well, my Daddy did, but that's probably because we're like-minded and he loves me a whole lot.  Everyone thought I was dressed up as Lucille Ball.  And, in hindsight, how smart would that have been for me to do?  I've got the red hair, all I have to do is go vintage.  I'm an idiot.  Anywho, also, I kind of just felt like a hipster.  So, thanks for ruining my costume, 20-somethings.  Maybe next year I'll be Lucy, but this year, I was a badass Rosie the Riveter!  We Can Do It!

No pictures of Lily yet, but you know that for baby girl's first trick-or-treating adventure Momma is going to over-photo the shit out of that, stay tuned for the post Halloween post.

Happy Halloween, y'all.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012


I have to have notes everywhere, or I just forget shit.  And I can't put these notes on my phone, because that falls under two categories: 1. shit I lose, and 2. shit I forget.  So putting notes on said phone is futile.

  • I need to bake a cake tonight for my husband's office tomorrow.  And no, I can't remember what I'm making the cake for, I didn't include that on the note.  I only remember this baking task because of the note I wrote on my calendar at work.
  • I need to watch last week's episode of American Horror Story so I don't get behind and confused as to where I left off.  Problem is I can't watch this when it's dark outside, I'm a wuss.  And the Hubs won't watch it with me, he hates scary stuff.  So I guess I need to take a day off work to watch American Horror Story in the broad daylight.
  • I should probably bathe my kids tonight?  I have no note to myself indicating the last time I did that.
  • Go through Lily's clothes and take out what doesn't fit.  This will prevent the husband from trying to shove her into a onesie that hasn't fit in 9 months.  This is purely for the benefit of the chunky baby.
  • Find Kade's old Halloween costume so he can wear it to school, so he doesn't f up his new one he's supposed to wear tomorrow night.  Because I know if I send him to school in his Halloween costume he'll spill something bright purple on it.  Laws of kids, man, just how it works.  So he'll be Spiderman by day, Captain America by night.
  • Make a shield for Kade's Captain America costume.  Wait, tomorrow is Halloween?  Screw it.  Who needs a shield when you're all jacked up on free candy?
  • Wash my hair.  I have no note to myself indicating the last time I did that.
  • Paint my nails.  All 20, toes and fingers.  Wait, I'm no longer in flip flops or sandals 7 days a week.  Take that down to 10, just fingers.
  • Pay attention to my sweet husband.  Maybe this note should be bumped up to number 1.  Wait, he really loves cake.  Okay, number 2.
And here is a picture of my (really manly looking...) hand.  With the word "cake" written on it.  Don't forget the cake.  "You can't miss the bear!" (anyone get that reference?)

Monday, October 29, 2012

Here we are.

It's Monday.  I didn't get that stupid laundry room painted.  I will do it some time this week, I swear it.  Ok, maybe this weekend.

I had a good post all worked out in my head for today, but a phone call at 8:11 this morning f'ed that all up.  Now all I can think about is that phone call.  No, I won't tell you what it's about either.  It's called vague-blogging, and it's what all the cool kids do these days.  So there.

We don't have shit to do until Thanksgiving.  I'm going to repeat that to myself about 47 times between now and Friday.  That's probably one of the best things ever.  When I say probably, I mean is.  That is the best thing ever.  I had fun this weekend [see: partied balls with amazing friends] but man, we've been busy since September hit.  And I'm old.  And over it.

So come over if you want, but be forewarned I will be hanging out in my underwear eating popcorn, drinking diet root beer, and watching mind numbing television.  And it will be the best 20-something days of my life.  Until I get about 5 days in and get really bored.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Upgrade, tiniest room in the house style.

It's taken almost 3 years to decorate/paint/update our house.  And the kicker is that it was "newly renovated" when we moved in.  I'm guessing I'll still be tweaking it 10 years from now.  But, it recently occurred to me that one room has been untouched: the laundry room.  I say "room", but I really mean "closet."  If I stood in the middle of it I could touch wall to wall I'm guessing.

It's got nothing going on.  And it wouldn't be a huge deal if it wasn't right off my kitchen.  With the door open 99% of the time.  And since every wall in our house is painted, the stark white walls in there really stand out. So I'm doing what any sane person with two kids under 4, a giant party coming up this weekend, grocery shopping to do, and cooking to do all day tomorrow.  I'm painting it navy blue tonight.  And hoping it only takes one coat of paint.  And hoping all the ideas in my head translate well and don't look like shit.

If I was a really good blogger, for my post tomorrow (or whenever I get around to posting it, let's keep it real) I'd totally measure the room, break down the budget, tell you the tiniest of details and make it completely pinterest worthy...but we all know that's not going to happen.  Just be lucky if you get "after" pictures and I make it out less than 50% covered in paint.

I DID, however, manage to snap some before pics with my phone, and make a board with all the pictures on it because I'm too lazy to upload them one by one.  Holla!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Dear me, from me.

Dear Candace,

Hi.  It's you, 20 years from now.  Currently you're really stressed out about everything.  I would like to tell you to calm down and let go, because there is nothing you can do about it and your life would be so much easier and happier if you just. let. go.  Think about how important these things will be in 20 years, then laugh, because you will see how ridiculous you are being.

You currently have an amazing husband, a 4-year-old, a 1-year-old, 2 dogs, wonderful friends, and a beautiful house that you love.  Those reasons alone are enough for you to stop worrying.  So please, stop.

Now you're Mommy, but 20 years from now, you're just Mom.  That energetic cackling 4-year-old and sweet snuggly little 1-year-old are now 24 and 21.  No matter how hard being a parent seemed, you never gave up and you never stop trying for these children, and now it shows.  They are successful, well balanced, healthy adults that are thriving in life.  You have done your job and their success if the fruit of your labor, so please, don't stop trying.  No matter how hard it seems, the most important job you have in this life is to be their Mom.  They grow up fast.  Faster than you can blink.  Cherish this time.  Color with them.  Build legos.  Play dolls.  Tickle them.  Let them stay up with you and snuggle with them.  They will carry memories of you and their Daddy with them wherever life takes them, be sure they have a lot to take.

In your life right now, Lily is already 1.  She is growing up so fast, too fast.  Stop and watch it happen, please, I beg of you, slow down.  You can't stop her from growing up, but you can make sure you're enjoying and aware of every minute of it.  And if she doesn't want to wear the bows it is okay, you know tomboy well too, go with whatever she wants.

Kade is so smart.  Right now he is just a 4-year-old.  You expect too much of him.  You talk to him like an adult and expect him to be able to reason things rationally.  He is 4-years-old.  Let him be little.  Let him make mistakes, and yes, discipline him when he is wrong, but you have to let it go.  You have to remember that he's a child that wants nothing more than to sit and read a book with you.  Slow down, read the book, play monster trucks.  Do it all.  In about 3 years he'll want nothing to do with you and you'll sit and cry and wish for this little boy to come back and want to sit in your lap and watch Avatar.

You and Nick have been married for 23 years now.  Never forget the little things in life, those turn out to be the big things, and the things that thought were big and important can't even come to memory at the moment.  Hold hands, kiss before you leave for work, spend time together, every second possible.  Remember how much you love this man and how much he loves you.  Never forget how lucky you are that he chose you to spend forever with.  Think back to how much fun the first three years of marriage were, and keep that love, fun, and happiness alive.  You are so lucky to have found your soul mate and best friend when you did, so cherish all the time you have with him.

Call your Grandma more, you're going to regret it if you don't.  She'll be someone you will always miss no matter how old you get.  And spend every chance you get with your parents.  They loved you first, and still love you more than anything to this very day, never forget that.  You too now know the love a parent has for a child.

Whenever life gets overwhelming, read this letter.  Any time you think things are spinning out of control think to yourself, "Will this matter in 20 years?"

Hugs those babies tight tonight, and every night after that.  They will be in their 20s before you know it.


One more thing, stop making this face, it's unattractive.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Parenting, hard.

Seriously, how hard is parenting?  It's hard.  It's full of double standards.  It's lined with moments where you think, "Holy balls, I really AM turning into my mother."  It's second guessing everything you say and do.  It's knowing that 97% of the time you're really wrong.  And it's knowing that no one is a perfect parent.  I mean come on, Martha went to jail.  If she can't do perfection, how the hell are we supposed to do it?

The double standards.  Ahhh, the double standards.  I tell Kade yes and no all the time for the same things.  Prime example, the television.  Kid is obsessed.  Not cool.  This is a week's worth of statements made by Nick or I:

  • Yes, you can watch a movie tonight.
  • No, you can't watch a movie tonight.
  • Because you watched a movie last night, that's why.
  • Stop arguing with me, I said no.
  • You watch too much TV.
  • Do we let him watch too much TV?
  • Hey buddy, want to watch a movie in your room? (This is code for "Mommy and Daddy want to watch an episode of Revenge uninterrupted  please go be quiet in your room and stare at the TV and don't come bother us.  Thanks.")
  • No, you can't watch the movie again, you just watched it.
  • Wait until your sister goes to bed, play with her instead of watching TV.
  • Because I said so.  That's why.  
  • Stop asking.
  • I'll turn your TV on and you can watch cartoons. (That's when he wakes up before our alarm clocks go off.  That's legit.  Freaking watch some cartoons or something so Mommy and Daddy can sleep!)
Kade woke up last week while Nick and I were both showering, and he was standing outside my door crying when I got out of the shower.  I immediately told him I was sorry that he needed to potty and to come in and go potty.  He said that's not why he was crying.  He said he was crying because he "needs people".  I. am. an. asshole.  Did my four-year-old just tell me that he "needs people?"  Really?  He's deprived enough to request the mere presence of warm bodies?  F me.  

Parenting is hard.

Friday, October 12, 2012

The end of an era.

Y'all, it's happened.  There is officially a generation of people that don't know what a "Zack Morris phone" is.

It's been a very long time since I've never have someone ask me, "Who's Zack Morris?"  This happened a couple months ago when we were sitting around playing board games with my niece and nephew, ages 16 and 17.  I mentioned a "Zack Morris phone", I don't even know what brought it up, and my nephew innocently asks the question, "Who's Zack Morris?"  And I lost it.  Not in a freaking out flipping tables over sort of way, but I was almost speechless.  I said, "Are you serious?"  And he just blankly stared at me.  So I thought maybe he didn't hear me right, so I said it again, then said, "Screech?  AC Slater?  Jessie Spano?  Kelly Kapowski?  Lisa Turtle?  You've got NOTHING??!?"  And he just shook his head.

My husband came to his defense and said it's probably normal for him to have zero idea what Saved By The Bell was.  Upon mentioning the name of the show my nephew says, "Oh yeah, I think I've heard of that."  Gah!  You think you've heard of that?  Saved By The Bell was the amazing Saturday morning show about "kids" that were in high school for what appeared to be 9 years.  That show was part of our generation.  Show some respect for the Slater pants, son.

I wanted to be Kelly Kapowski.  She was gorgeous, had fucking awesome hair, was a cheerleader, and had two way hot dudes (in questionable clothing, but still hot nonetheless) pining for her love.  I was always Team Zack.  Still am.

Taking a walk down memory lane, I decided to do some wiki-ing and googling, and find out where these "kids" are today.  I'll share what I found out:

Of course to start we have to go with this guy, Zack Morris.  Because omg (wait, that acronym didn't exist in the early 90s...) oh my god, he was the epitome of what every girl wanted their high school boyfriend to look like.  His love for Kelly was like no other, and everyone wanted to be his Kelly.  I love his new show, Franklin and Bash.  The Hubs and I watch it religiously.  His real name is Mark-Paul Gosselaar.  And ladies, he's still got it.  BAM!

Next up, Kelly Kapowski.  After SBTB she did Beverly Hills, 90210, and then it was all downhill for Ms. Kapowski.  I mean, she still looks good, but the only things on her filmography past 90210 seem to be Lifetime Made for TV Movies.  Real name:  Tiffani-Amber Thiessen.

Eye candy alert, here's AC Slater sans stone washed Slater pants!  Mario Lopez (real name) is pretty much irrelevant.  He now hosts shitty reality TV shows and at one point hosted the Miss America Pageant, I think.  But who gives a shit what he does, look at the guy.

Jessie Spano, "hot nerd" on SBTB, stripper in her post SBTB days.  Ok, she just played a stripper in a movie.  But we all know the difference between an on-screen stripper and a real one: two weeks.  Her real name is Elizabeth Berkley, and I bet she's still so excited and scared at the same time.

These last two former SBTBers have taken a turn for the worse, it seems.  First up, Lisa Turtle.  This chick, Lark Voorhies, hasn't done shit since playing the part of Lisa.  And what a craptastic part to have to play.  She was the token black chick with her only real love interest as the biggest geek in school, Screech.  I'd hide away in a cave too if that was the role I played for 7 years.  Oh yeah, and from the looks of it she got some questionable plastic surgery done.  I guess Saved By The Bell royalties can't pay for the good botox.

Lastly, Samuel "Screech" Powers.  Oh Screech.  How'd you get so scary?  So this little nerd basically went batshit crazy on the world.  According to Wikipedia he released a SEX TAPE in 2006.  Do you want to know the name of it?  Of course you do: "Screeched - Saved by the smell."  I can't make this shit up.  I wish I could.  Anywho, after that cinematic masterpiece he went on Celebrity Fit Club because the man apparently loved food more than himself after his sex tape only sold two copies. [That's an approximation of sales.]  And everyone on the show with him hated his ass, because he was a big jerkface.  Then he went on a celebrity championship wrestling show hosted by Hulk Hogan.  And that's it.  Holy balls, do kids these days know who Hulk Hogan is?  Anyway, here is the crazy dude, real name: Dustin Diamond.

In closing, this post took a turn that I didn't intend for it to take.  Happy Friday, y'all.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Um, that's not me.

I receive weekly emails from Morgan State University.  It's in Maryland.  I only know where this godforsaken school is because of the emails.  Been getting them for like two years.  I even marked that shit to go to my junk folder and it didn't work.  It's like a hybrid newsletter that is undetectable to a spam filter.

I receive these emails because someone named Candance Wilson attended school there.  Oh.  That's not my name.  Candace Wilson did not go to Morgan State University.

Easy fix, right?  After the first month of getting tired of deleting them I tried to unsubscribe.  But the unsubscribe didn't work or something.  I got directed to the university's website, got confused, got irritated, and gave up.  I'm computer literate and not easily confused, but this was a waste of my time and I didn't feel like dealing with it.

I even responded to the email saying something along the lines of "I'm not Candance Wilson, I'm Candace Wilson.  Easy mistake, I'm not mad, we can still be friends, but stop fucking emailing me, okay?"  The response was "Candance!  So glad you are enjoying the newsletters!  Sea Lions for life!" [I made the sea lion mascot part up, I don't know what their mascot is.]

I don't know where I'm going with this.  But I do know I'm not changing my email address to avoid the email Nazis of Morgan State University.  It's straight forward.  No crazy shit characters or random numbers, it makes me happy.  When someone asks for my email I just say it and they get it, and that's fucking awesome.  I don't have to spell out, "" or something crazy like that.  And anyway, if I was dedicating my email address to any singer/band for life it would be NKOTB.  And for those of you who don't know what NKOTB stands for, why are you on my blog?  [Oh geeze, I already have tomorrow's post written in my head just from writing that.  YES.]

Random story, I do have a friend that currently spells my name "Candance" though.  He spelled it like that for all of 6th grade, and when I corrected him he thought it would be even funnier to keep doing it.  That was 17 years ago.  

And that last line just made me think of High Fidelity: "I can't fire them.  I hired them for three days a week and they just started coming in every day.  That was four years ago."

And THAT, my friends, is how my mind works.  See y'all tomorrow. 

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Terrible Music Tuesday, Volume 1

I think Tuesdays are an appropriate day to list all the terrible shitty songs I had to endure thanks to Pandora and/or the local radio.  If there's one thing I really really despise, it's shitty music.  Which is funny, because I like really shitty music sometimes.  Okay, maybe when I say "funny" I mean "ironic because I like music that probably makes some people's ears bleed."

  • Nickelback.  I don't know the name of the song, but does it matter?  It's all the same shit.  Same shit, different same melody.  And my god it's so mind-numbing.  I was driving, and all of a sudden, I'm like "Woah, am I fucking listening to Dickelback?  I just lost 94 seconds of my life right there!"
  • Gangum style.  Is that the name of it?  That song that's not in English.  That I don't get.  That I don't like.  That makes me want to rip the radio out of my car and throw it down the freeway.  That one.
  • Taylor Swift singing about how boys are mean to her.  Fuck me.  Seriously.  If that's what you sound like in a relationship on a daily basis, I'd be mean to you too.  And then you'd write a song about me.  And I'd be all like "Yep, that's right, I was an asshole to Taylor Swift, you're welcome, America, here's another bullshit whining song."

Halfway there.

Halfway to something.

Not sure what, however.  But I do know that I need xanax to sleep and that it would appear that my hair is falling out.  This observation comes from me plucking at least 10 long red hairs off my desk, shoulders, and arms since I got to work this morning.

Maybe I'm halfway crazy.  That's probably definitely almost certainly it.

So here's a picture of me looking like a gazelle.  A crazy gazelle.

A crazy gazelle that knows how to work Instagram.  Fucking Instagram.  Making us all feel like we are professional photographers.  Thanks for the false hope, iPhone app.

Monday, October 8, 2012

I wish you still blogged.

Spending the weekend with dear friends makes me appreciate them even more than I already did.  We go months on end without seeing each other, but that's completely normal and okay.

You see, I traded in the "I'm so fucking awesome because I live in Austin and party balls with these rad people" lifestyle for the "I'm so fucking awesome because I have a hot husband, two badass kids, and party balls until 9:30 and I have to go to bed because I'm exhausted" lifestyle.

So, seeing my rad people on a rare occasion is completely normal and we appreciate each other more when we do get to see each other.  Granted, it makes me miss them more when I have to leave them, but it's still okay.

When visiting one of my aforementioned rad friends this weekend she mentioned that I should still blog.  Right.  About that.  I do.  Okay, okay.  Saying "I still blog." is like saying "I clean behind the washing machine."  Because I definitely do both of those things, just with no frequency whatsoever.  I should blog more, though.  It's therapeutic.  I enjoy getting it all out on the interweb paper and getting the thoughts out of my head.  As for cleaning behind the washing machine, well, let's just say I don't have the time I don't want to fucking do it.

Also, I used to blog with a blog tied into my BookFace, so whenever I posted a new blog it would post to the BookFace timeline that "hey, Candace blogged."  Meh.  I don't know how interested I am in publicizing my writing and thoughts for the BookFace peeps.  It feels like if I post there a "hey! I wrote something! go read it!" I'm seeking out attention and/or compliments, and while I appreciate the pats on the back, I'd rather people find my writing on their own?  I guess?  Fuck if I know, really.  If you are here because you are my Facebook friend that is totally awesome and I don't not want you here, I appreciate you reading.  You are on my list of heroes.  If you just googled the words "bookface" and "fuck" together and you made your way here that way you're on a completely different list of heroes, but still a hero nonetheless, because that's awesome.

But it did feel good to know that my good friend enjoyed reading my writing.  It felt really good.  To a point where I think I should be better about the writing.

So in closing, I wish I still blogged too.  Maybe I'll blog about that tomorrow...

Thursday, September 27, 2012


About three times a year I get my hairs cut.  Sometimes just two.  (Times, not hairs.)  Whenever these occasions roll around I always think to myself, "I want to chop it all off, start over."  

The last 4 times or so that I've thought this I've been able to stop myself, thankfully.  

Me chopping all my red hairs off usually leads to me crying in front of the mirror the morning after the cut with a ball of frizzy curls sticking straight up saying, "Why did I cut it all off???"

I have a haircut next Thursday.  I will not instruct my fabulous stylist to chop.  I will only ask her to trim.  Ever so slightly.  TRIM.

I will keep repeating that to myself.  I will hopefully report back to you with my hairs still intact.  Unless I get stupid in between now and then.  It happens.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Back to where it was.

When does life go back to where it was?  Back when kids could be kids.  Back when a road trip wasn't a giant financial burden and actually something done without care or worry.  Back when Moms had time to cook a healthy dinner every night.  Dads stayed up until the fireflies came out playing catch or even just relaxing watching the kids play in the yard.  Kids were in bed before dark because they were so worn out from playing outside.  When does history repeat itself and we get that back?  I miss that.

My kids.  I will never let my children get on their bikes and call out "see you at dark!" to them as they ride off in the morning.  They can't go out without being covered in sunscreen and bug spray.  UV rays, ahhh!  West nile virus, eeek!  Oh yeah, and it's 137 degrees outside in July now, so they could also have a heatstroke.

Do you have any idea how much it costs to drive anywhere?  A lot.  That's how much.  My parents and I trekked across the great state of Texas my entire life, in a Suburban.  We drove everywhere, and we had fun doing it.  Now these trips we take are planned far in advance to allow for time to save up, and they are few and far between.

My mother busted her ass (she still does actually) and was/is a rock star.  She was up insanely early for work, worked on her feet all day, came home and cooked something amazingly southern usually covered in gravy, and hung in there long enough to tuck me in and tell me good night.  Why am I so exhausted every morning and night?  Was my Momma this tired?  If she was, she never showed it.

I need this lifestyle.

I need to come home at a decent time for my kids.  My current routine wears me out.  Out the door at 7:30 at the very latest, home for lunch with the Hubs from 12:05 to 12:45 running around like crazy people sweeping and mopping floors, folding laundry, doing dishes, basically anything that requires immediate attention at the house, which is always something.  At the end of the day I'm in the door with the kids in tow from daycare around 5:20.  Kids are hungry, they want food now, they can't wait.  Kade gets a can of ravioli.  Lily gets lunch meat, crackers and cheese.  I'm the world's worst mom.  I'll take my trophy whenever you like for that.  Because when I do cook something the kids whine about starving the entire time, so I give them snacks to buy me some time.  Then by the time the casserole or whatever it may be is out of the oven or off the stove they don't want it.  They are full from snacks.  It's a lose lose situation.  If I got home even at 4:15, I could get home, clean, cook, and be fully prepared for two hungry bellies to come through the door an hour later.

Is now when we talk about personal time?  What's personal time?  Is that time you go do whatever you want without feeling like a terrible person for leaving your husband and children at home to fend for themselves?  Because that just doesn't fit into the 24 hours I am allotted each day.  And I don't do well with guilt, so when I do leave them, I feel like racing home the minute I walk out the door.  Now that I think about it though, my mom didn't have any of that either.  She was always home.  (See above: rock star.)  [Sidenote: my husband encourages me to go do things.  He's pretty awesome.  I still feel guilty though, and honestly, usually prefer to spend any second of spare time I have with him.  Because as I mentioned, he's pretty awesome.]

Exercise falls into the personal time category.  Personal trainers will tell you things like "there's always time, make the time" and more annoying mantras to that tune.  Shit that makes you want to punch them in the face.  Ok, give me a 25 hour day then peppy irritatingly in-shape trainer.  Then I'll go work out.  Until then, kiss my ass.  (Geeze, my lack of exercise is deeply connected to my giant amount of anger deep inside me, apparently.)

But, I digress.  I'm trying for one little change, and maybe that will ignite bigger ones that make for more change for the better.  First step towards a happier, healthier, and more well-oiled machine of a family: monthly meal planning.  This is huge.  This is something I NEED.  I need some control over something in my life.  The food in my family's life will be what I control.  We have eaten out a lot the last couple months.  That saddens me, because we are a family that prides itself in doing very little of that.

The menu has been planned October 1 through November 30.  It was planned with the food currently in my freezer and pantry in mind, as we need to use what we have, decrease food costs, and decrease trips to the grocery store.  Every time I pop in for a couple things I need I feel like I come out at least $50 poorer.  This needs to stop.  Sunday I will prepare for the month of October, purchasing everything I need for the month that is non-perishable or can be frozen.  Items like milk, bread and eggs will be purchased once a week on Sundays.  Sundays are the days we go to the grocery store.  That's it.  We make no exceptions unless something urgent is on deck (as in if we run out of whole milk, that's the key to LilyPad going to sleep: milk, we always make exceptions for milk.)

This won't be easy.  My picky husband will see the menu and try and say no to what is on deck, and I will cook it anyway.  He may or may not eat it.  That's fine.  But the kids and I will.  And we'll like it, dammit.  (Did I mention that this won't be easy?)

Monday, September 24, 2012


That right there is some chili.  Some Cajun chili.  Some spicy Cajun chili.  Do you require the recipe to this?  I'm guessing you do.  If I was a good little blogger I'd have had these amazing in progress shots of this spicy creation, but I'm not.  So all I have is this crappy Instagram picture of a reheated saucepan of chili that we used to put on hot dogs tonight.

Before we get into the whole "this is what you need" and "this is how you make it", let me throw this disclaimer out there: I am in no way a professional chef.  I cook for my friends and family, and do it with love.  These recipes that make their way onto my blog may not have exact measurements because I have a tendency to throw shit in without measuring or even thinking twice about it.  I encourage anyone silly enough to try my recipes to take stuff out and put stuff in and please let me know how it turns out.

This is what you need:
  • 2 pounds of lean hamburger meat (we buy a cow and put it in our freezer, more on that later.)
  • 1/2 large sweet Texas onion, finely chopped (or if you're a sad panda and don't have access to sweet Texas onions just use a yellow one.  Whomp wah.)
  • 1/2 green bell pepper, finely chopped
  • 3 or 4 cans of Rotel, pureed into a smooth liquid
  • chili powder
  • garlic powder
  • Tony's cajun seasoning (this is the seasoning of the Gods, just in case you're wondering.)
  • 2 cans of Ranch Style Beans with the juice (you don't know what Ranch Style Beans are?  Run, run far far away from this blog, you are deprived and I feel sorry for you.  Ok, not really, you don't have to run, but you're missing out, and you can omit the beans from this recipe.  And I mourn you for not having these amazing cans of beans.  Sad panda.)
  • Tabasco sauce
  • Cayenne pepper
  • Pickled jalapeno slices, diced
This is how you make it:
  • You only need one good sized stock pot.  Cook the onions, bell pepper, and hamburger meat together until the meat is done and the onions and bell peppers are nice and soft.  Yummm.  
  • Add in 2 teaspoons (or so, maybe more) of chili powder.  It should coat everything in the pot to a nice chili color.  
  • Add in garlic powder to taste, and one tablespoon of Tony's.  Give it a couple dashes of cayenne pepper if you're feeling extra spicy (you should be, so do it.)  
  • Now for the Rotel.  This is what I use in place of tomato sauce, because we're just not extra tomato-y kind of people at the Casa de Wilson.  And we don't like chunks of tomato in anything, just our preference.  I use my super fancy awesome Tangerine Orange Kitchen Aid blender to liquefy the stuff.  Use 3 or 4 cans, depending on the level of thickness you want of the chili.  It always varies when I make it, it's good with 3, it's good with 4.  It's really up to you.  Choose your own Adventure! (Remember those awesome books?  Note to self, buy those for the kids.)
  • Ok, back to the chili.
  • Add a couple dashes of Tabasco sauce and a spoonful or so of the jalapenos.  That step is only for the extra spicy cookers out there, so just go ahead and do it, it'll put hair on your chest and clear your sinuses, you'll thank me for it, I'm almost sure of it.
  • Add in the beans, juice and all.  When my Momma made chili when I was a wee little cooker just learning, she would heat the beans up and let you add them if you really wanted them, or just eat them separately, because those beans are f'n awesome.  But, I married a man not from the south, and apparently chili goes in beans like peanut butter goes with jelly, so we add it in there.  No one really seems to mind.  Plus, it makes your chili go further, more bang for your buck, BAM!
  • Let all this cook together as long as you can resist sticking your face it in.  And be careful when you do, this shit is hot.
If you're smart, you put shredded cheese on top of it.  And possibly add in some Fritos.  Or you can eat it as is, because it's good any way you get it in your face.  Enjoy!

Kade Michael.

You are so tough. You are so sweet. You tell me you love me everyday.

You are also a jerkface that refuses to share anything with your little sister, but that's okay, I assume that's normal for a one-year-old/four-year-old relationship.

You are the light my sweet boy.


How I love thee my sweet little LilyPad. How fast you are running away from and/or towards the camera.

I heart those curls of yours.

Friday, September 21, 2012


We are starting to get things rolling again.  This is a test.  This is only a test.  Do not panic.  Do not freak out.  Calm down and go eat something super fattening or have a couple beers, we'll be back at some point.