Monthly Archives: July 2010

peaches

Some of my greatest memories of my Ninamom and Papa are of going to Eckert’s to pick fruit… peaches, apples, pumpkins.  We would go out on the wagons, fill our buckets, take it home and eat our fruit until we were sick to our stomachs.

So when I saw in the Nevada Daily Mail that the peaches were ready to be picked I got really excited to take Dude and Bubba picking.  We made a date with Hubs and headed out.  To our disappointment, the orchard we visited (and apparently many others) don’t let you go out and pick your own.  We have a lack of personal responsibility, lawyers, and insurance companies to thank for that… but I digress.

“Oh well, it is too hot to be outside anyway,” says Bubba.
“Yah! Too hot,” agrees Dude.
I love my boys and when we are out in public they really know how to look on the bright side of any situation.

The peaches we "picked"

the peaches we "picked"

 

I did a poll on Twitter and Facebook on what I should make with my peaches.  The responses were what I expected: pie, cobbler, and crisp.  (I also got a suggestion for wine but that is a little out of my skill set I didn’t go any further than trying to find a recipe.) 
I got out my cookbooks to see which one I had the ingredients for and settled on a recipe for peach crisp from “The Joy of Cooking.”

The Joy of Cooking

aka my cooking bible

So I peeled and chunked the peaches into my Pampered Chef Deep Dish Pie Stone (yes, I just did a product placement plug).

I made a topping out of flour, sugar, salt, and cinnamon.  Then I popped in the oven and was tortured by the wonderful smells for more than an hour. 

the finished crisp looks oh so good

I love summer time fruit.  So delicious.  So many possibilities.

But the best part of this peach crisp: Dude and Bubba think it is disgusting and now I don’t have to share.

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gross

Actually, gross does not accurately describe what I just dealt with.

OH. MY. LORD. THAT. IS. GROSS!!!

is a much better description.

Let me back up a bit.

Dude is potty training.  I went to Chicago a few weeks ago and came back to a little boy that no longer wanted to wear diapers.  He had suddenly “gotten it” and has basically done all the hard work. 

There have been no sticker charts, M&M bribes, no set timers. 
Nothing. 
He grabs his crotch, screams at the top of his lungs “I HAVE TO PEE!!” and goes running for the bathroom.  The only work involved is me putting him on top of our old person/orthapedic/raised toilet that even I can’t touch the floor when sitting on.

He has even pooped on the potty.  His only poop involved accidents have consisted of sharting and a few skid marks.  But hey, isn’t that a right of passage for boys… at least it has been for his brother and his father.
(just kidding)
(sort of)

UNTIL THIS MORNING!!!!

Dude says to me:  I have to poop.  We walk to the bathroom, get in position, and he tells me nevermind.  I assume he has gas, false alarm.

Five minutes later he screams at the top of his lungs POOP!! 
I panic.  This is for real.  We better make it cuz I don’t want to clean this up.

Long story short.

We didn’t make it.

stop reading here if you have a weak stomach or you know how the story goes.  keep reading if you are considering having children in the near future… this may be a bit of birth control.

He pooped in his Bubba’s (that he borrowed) Thomas the Tank Engine Blue Underware. (this is a big deal because Bubba’s only stipulation for Dude putting these on was that he not get poop on them.  Oh Sacred Thomas Underpants.

At least it is contained, right?
WRONG!

This was the most massive (and very liquidy) dump I have ever seen come out of this child.  It gushed down his legs.  He freaked and jumped.  The largest portion fell out and onto the floor.  It stunk.  BAD! Dude’s legs were streaked.  The stuff was everywhere.  Bubba was freaking about Thomas.  He calmed enough to give a play by play, though. 

 Then Bubba barfed.

There are many more graphic details I could share about the texture, scent, how the dog tried to help clean up, but I will spare you the details.

I will tell you this, though.  I have just had the most productive 45 minutes Of. My. Life.  I have bathed both boys, cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed the floor (everything happened on the hardwood and tile- further proof there is a God with a sense of humor), started a load of laundry and written this blog post.

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