Orange Fluff

1 container (12oz) Cool Whip

1 container (16oz) small curd cottage cheese

1 package of orange Jell-O gelatin

2 cans (15oz each) mandarin oranges, drained

           

You will absolutely love this fluff!  Mommies need play dates too so whether you are headed to one or hosting one serve or bring this decadent dessert.  The kiddos may be crawling all over the floor but your mommy friends will be crawling all over you!  That is until you unmask your culinary secrets.

Mix the cool whipped topping and cottage cheese together in a large bowl.  Add the powdered orange Jell-O gelatin and mix well.  For your final step add the two cans of drained mandarin oranges.  Now that you have whipped up this recipe let it chill until you are ready to serve.  This recipe is too easy to not try and you can swap the orange stuff to make Strawberry Fluff, or experiment with other fruit variations.  This dessert is prepared in seconds and it requires just that…seconds please!

This is a perfect dish to bring to just about any potluck party.  Just about happen to be the key words.  I brought this delight to a local social event for mommies and their little tykes.  I am proud of this easy family recipe so when the evite said potluck, I thought no problem.  Well there was a problem.   

It began with a sense of pride in a perfectly whipped bowl of orange perfection and that initial pride gradually transitioned to embarrassment and then to sheer anxiety.  In my mind I pictured mingling with moms and making new friends, so with fluff in hand and my angel propped on my hip I headed into the event.  The room was swarming with moms and kids.  Located near the back a table sat full of potluck goodies.  From edge to edge sat a collection of platters brimming with goldfish, cookies, brownies, pretzels and just about every other self feeding snack a kid could dream up.  As my eyes scanned the table for a place to set my fluff I started to realize that:

1.  I didn’t take into account that some tykes may not be able to self feed Orange Fluff.
2.  I didn’t bring any spoons to eat the fluff.
3.  I was totally out of my league; obviously these snack toting moms were pros.

There sat my untouched fluff and I wondered why no one was gorging on it like my family does, how exactly did I expect them to eat it?  My son, sensing a shift in my anxiety level decided that this was indeed the best time and the best place to start displaying "terrible twos" behavior.   This behavior can somehow manage to trigger a seemingly cute little boy to go out of control and cause his early thirties mom to head right into a hot flash.  A nearby mom then informs me that a little girl is hovering over my orange treat and is practically up to her elbows in fluff as she gobbles it in handfuls.  Obviously she thought it was delicious, her mom on the other hand might not be such a fan. 

“It’s time to abort!”  I thought scanning the room for the nearest exit.  I was scrambling to gather our things while my son proceeded to dump a zillion cheerios all over the floor.  There I was with my nose in the carpet of shame frantically hand sweeping cheerios while desperately trying to maintain an ankle grasp on my squealing and squirming child.   With beads of sweat and sweaty palms I sheepishly smiled and hurriedly left the party.  Once in the car I began popping xanax like pez. 

It was that afternoon that I realized that being at home with your little one(s) will always feel more comfortable, especially when a wiener dog is there to serve as the vacuum.  And, at some point all new moms get a little disheveled dealing with there kids naughtiness in public.  I tell you this from experience, it happens to the best of us.  Any mom that reads this can relate as I am certain she will have a story of her own.  Any mom who tells you otherwise is  a robot for a mom and a vicious liar  just lucky. 

Chili Rubbed Chicken

4 skinless, boneless
                   chicken breasts

½ medium red onion, sliced

2 tbsp. chili powder

1 tbsp. paprika

1 tsp. cumin

½ tsp. thyme

¼ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. black pepper

1 tbsp. olive oil

I love this recipe simply because it tastes amazing and the rubbing technique used is an effortless way to jazz up plain old, lame old meat.  Don't be a hater when it comes to adding a little spice to your diet.  This unique combination form “the rub” and it’s the rub a dub dub that makes this recipe grub. 

Take your chicken breasts and trim the excess fat from the edges.  Pat them dry with a paper towel and set them aside while you mix together the above listed spices.  Now with your bare hands, rub the spices into the chicken breasts or you can place the breasts in a Ziploc bag add the spices and massage them together until the chicken is fully coated.  Before your chicken is ready to bake, sprinkle a few drops of olive oil in the bottom of a baking dish to prevent your supper from sticking.  The pan needn’t be huge just big enough that the breasts can rest comfortably inside.  Don’t crowd the breasts either; this isn’t like jamming your breasts into a pre-pregnancy bra. 

I am fairly certain I may never get my “knockers” back into my pre-prego sized bras and if I magically did, and that’s what it would take…magic, they wouldn’t emerge like they did before.  Mother Nature has a deranged sense of humor.  After allowing us the miracle of birth she also has left us moms with an unexplained elongated torso and a set of saggy boobs.  This may actually be where the A-cuppers come out on top.  If I don’t keep mine snug in an over the shoulder boulder holder, I may as well just tuck them in my socks.  I can literally just fling them over my shoulder while I am cooking, or wipe my hands dry with one like a kitchen towel.  Balloon animal you say?  No problem, one giraffe coming right up!  Sadly, I now may have turned you off of your food so before I do so entirely, let's get back to discussing your breasts, your chicken breasts rather.    

Searing your chicken locks “the rub” in place and adds to the overall flavor of the dish.  In a skillet heat up a tablespoon of olive oil and quickly sear each breast for just a minute or two on each side.   In your greased baking dish lay the slices of red onion in the bottom of the pan and sprinkle the thyme over the top.  Gently place your seared breasts on top of the layer of onions and thyme and then pop the dish into the oven.  Let it bake for roughly 25-35 minutes at 400 degrees, depending on the size of your breasts. 

Now serve it up saggy sister!  This is definitely one dish that you will love to repeat.  Remember, it is all in “the rub” but I guess you know that, considering its how you got the name Mommy.  

Ma...Ma...Move over Dada!

After a few months of cooing, I began to eagerly await the day that my tot would utter his first word.  Whereas monks and other highly spirited individuals participate in the activity of chanting, I found myself as a new mother falling into a daily rhythm of chanting too.  Well, a chant of sorts.  I call my chant the Mama Chant. 

I somehow managed to convince myself that this behavior was seemingly normal and although other moms might not even be aware of it they too are quite familiar with this chant.  Countless waking hours we spend leaning over our little ones smiling and happily saying, “I am your mama...maaa-maaa…can you say mama?”  Every time his little eyes would meet mine I would begin my chant.  “Maaa-maaa, maaa-maaa…I am your mama.”  I’d say it slow and I’d say it fast.  I would just say it.  As if I had some perverse form of turrets I couldn’t manage to not say it. 

Due to the lack of actual conversation being shared between myself and my child, I began to fill that void with the word mama.  “Mama is doing this…, mama is doing that…, as soon as mama finishes…”  But this word bares a significance that my son just cannot seem to decipher, the significance that I am indeed his mama and saying it confirms my own sick importance in his little life.  I know, I need therapy but other moms engage in this ritualistic activity too; they just don’t happen to blog about it.  Whenever an opportunity seemed to arise for me to initiate my chant, I would.  “Mama is going to change your diaper.  Mama is going to make you some cereal.  Mama is going to rock you to sleep while mama is singing you lullabies.”  MAMA!

            I suppose I was secretly hoping that his first utterance would actually be mama.  When the guilt finally started to set in and I realized that my conscience was burdened with the fact that I was alienating his father, I started to throw a couple of daaa-daaas around.  “Dada is at work.  Dada brings home the bacon.”  Then I would slip up.  “But mama is the one that cooks the bacon.”  Crap, I can’t help myself.  

            So I wondered, in the end what was the likelihood that his first word would be mama?   Would I secretly die of envy if his first word was dada?  Maybe the most neutral of all family members would receive the first word honor, Oscar, our family wiener dog.  Maybe I was actually setting the bar too low after all, a book that we own called First Words shows that “chinchilla” is considered a first word…chinchilla, really?

~~~

Well into toddlerhood and first words have come and gone.  Of course his first declaration was indeed dada.  I am the stay at-home parent so I am not exactly sure how that transpired.  Was mama next you wonder?  No, dada was followed by Os-dar (our dog), sippy, hello, cookie, ball, car and cow but still no dang mama.  To this day I continue the chant and I can wholeheartedly say that mama is the most frequently used word in our house…well, that and the phrase – Don’t touch that!  This child is sneaky and smart.  He obviously doesn’t appreciate being coerced into anything that isn’t on his own terms.  Clearly, he knows who I am…right? 

Apparently when it comes to the art of conversation, my husband and Gavin seem to have better luck communicating.  My husband comes to me and jokingly says, “I was showing Gavin the picture in the hallway of our wedding and Gavin said to me…    “Is that the day that mommy came to work for us?”  Yes, I am the nanny; the live-in nanny, wife, housekeeper, CFO, accountant, chef, and sex goddess…

Actual “First Words” uttered by readers’ kids:

 Dada

Mama or Mommy

                                            Doggy/Dog (or the dog’s actual name)

More

Baba (Bottle)

Yum

Baby

Diaper

Spoon

Cup

Shoe

Apple

Come

No