Come Together

Yesterday I was so rushed writing my post, I left out a couple of parts of to the story. If you read the post below, you know my 11-year-old daughter, Lane 2 recently made her first dinner. What I forgot to say is, it was really good.

Even Lane 1 said, after Lane 2 was out of earshot, "She really didn't do a terrible job." That's one of those left-handed compliments. Since the boy is a lefty too, I let it slide.

The casserole is a form of Shepherd's Pie. It was an accidentally created concoction I made in my late teens. I thought it was a good and easy thing for the girl to learn how to make. It's just browned drained ground beef, mixed with tomato soup and green beans, topped with mashed potatoes, shredded cheddar and Durkee Onions. It only takes a half hour to bake.

Since I called it a casserole and not poop in a pot, and the kids haven't had it for at least a year, they were fooled into thinking this was some new fangled casserole. Lane 2 liked it so much, she had seconds. This is the same child who used to gag just looking at the casserole when I made it many moons ago. It certainly isn't a pretty dish once it is served but it is good and has all the crap you need in a good dinner.

Clean up was a piece of cake because I have the world's best daughter! This child, without being told, thankfully has been paying attention while watching me cook over the years. I am a clean-as-I-go cook. Guess what? She is too! That was very exciting to me.

After dinner was done and the kitchen clean, the three of us had a date to settle in and watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special. On the first commercial break, Lane 1 went into the kitchen. As he has been growing like a weed, he has been eating like a cow. Everything affects him like Chinese food these days. Fifteen minutes after he eats anything, he is ready to eat again.

He came back with three wine glasses filled with eggnog, topped with whipped cream and nutmeg. The poor kid forgot I am allergic to eggs and his sister hates that stuff. Lane 2 tried to drink it but her face showed the truth. In the end the boy was happy to drink all three glasses. Why that child doesn't weight 300 pounds is beyond me.

To answer some more questions posed in the comments of yesterday's post, Bush Master AKA, Mr. Lane, is probably the only one in our house who needs more chores. For Vince, and the record, without too much detail, he does in fact trim and tidy all of the bushes around these parts. (ifyaknowwhatI'msayin')

Back to this chore thing. I also forgot to mention that after I do laundry, the kids each take their clothes, hang their shirts and put away the rest in their dressers. Some times they offer to put mine or their father's clothes away. It is, however, an ongoing saga here. It is rare when I don't have to remind my children of their duties.

Some times it is just easier to do things myself than it is to tell one of the kids... repeat, mix with frustration, add a pinch of grounded for life if you don't do what you're told, and a dash of crinkled angry eyebrows glaring at each other.

Mr. Lane believes it is time for them to essentially take over the majority of household chores so I can work more on my writing, while concurring the 9 to 5, which I am starting after Christmas. Not thrilled, more on that later. We don't disagree when it comes to stuff about the kids, most of the time. This time is different. I think everyone needs to pull their weight. From where I am sitting, the kids and I do much more than the old man. Meaning, he is odd man out.

Sure, when he is in town, I pawn off almost all of my chores on him. When he considers complaining about something like taking the kids to school, I simply say in a very condescending way, "That's okay honey, I'll take them... like I do all of the time you're away." It works every time. It used to be said in anger. Now it has become an ongoing joke. One he still falls for, which pleases me greatly. Any chance I have to avoid the president of the PTA, I'm 100% in favor of.

In Mr. Lane's defense, when he is home, he does all of the car and truck maintenance. He is the one who keeps the garage from looking like the shit hole. Speaking of shit holes, he also cleans the bathroom when he is home.

Anyhow, this weekend we are going to be discussing this subject at greater length. I hope we can all agree on a fair solution.

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Non-Meme Christmas Gift Giving Bonanza Continues!

If you are new to Home Fires and wondering what this is all about, this is my way to give my friends who live in my computer presents for Christmas. You can read more about it here. Feel free to join in the gift giving spirit.



For one of the only two bloggers I've met in person, who I love like my dead pet hamster Stinky, Aimee. I offer her walls upon walls of the finest yarns for her millions of knitting projects. I'll never forget the first time I met Aimee, she was knitting in front of the fireplace. That is until she started dancing naked with Katey.



This next gift is as much for me as it is for Aimee. Technically it is for Aimee's daughter Emily. (pardon my lack of Photoshop skills on that sweet baby girl's face) This helmet cam will catch the expressions and contagious laughter on her Mommy's face when Em blurts out one of her fine gems like, "Mommy, what does Fucking Fuckit-ass mean?" or “But I'm not fond of spaghetti today, ok? I was bad. Bad, Mommy. I was very bad.” or this one, "I try and try to make my attitude go away, but it just won't!"

And my all time, two favorite, wish I coulda seen Aimee's face, Emilyisms, "Mommy, last night you were a piece of shit girl, but tonight you're NOT!" and "Mom, you're giving me bad love."

Many more Christmas gifts are coming soon to a blog near you!