Frugal Foodie

I used to be that girl. You know, the one that ate out every other night. Just because, hey, why not? '1789' for anniversaries, 'The Charleston' for lobster bisque (yummers), 'Cafe de Paris' for crepes and duck, 'Bob Evans' for banana bread etc etc etc. And some days, I'm not even gonna lie - I wanna be that girl again.

But, I don't know if you've heard of this little here thing called, ahem, the recession? Well, yeah. These days, the whole eating out thing? Well, not so much. I mean for special occasions, yes. And some occasions, we have to defer to life and 'da billz', yo.

So, this is where we get creative. It's all about using the formal dining room, whipping out the 'good china', splitting a bottle of great tasting muscato, and splurging on a good cut of meat. Cooked at home. By a man I love. Whom, I might add, just happens to love me.

I'd rather be this girl, methinks.

And so, I daresay, would she. (principessa with daddy on his birthday @ Chez Prada)

Can I say that the wine was $9, the beef wellington prepared by my hunnybunny was priceless, and the occasion was - you guessed it - 'just because'. Mmm hmm, we're living it up, peeps. :)

Egusi, garri and bud lite with lime. Don't sleep on it, people.

Bon Apetit,pp

Paris.

view of Eiffel from hotel room

Yes, we are back from the fabulous city. Food in Paris was a bust. I just had to get that off my chest. The one meal I enjoyed cost an ungodly amount of money that I just don't feel comfortable 'fessing up to spending. Ye gods! I have honestly never, ever, had food that bad. And it's not like I don't like French food. Au Contraire, I actually adore it. Well, when it's seasoned and cooked right. So I deducted mucho points from Paris, as everyone that knows me has to know that I take my 'manger', tres serious. I had never been so happy to see a McDonalds in my entire life (we came across one near the hotel) I was this close to kissing the floor. For real.

But food aside, Paris was great. And everything was just a little bit nicer than I thought it would be. Parisians are less rude and snobbish than in the yesteryear, not everyone (in fact very few) were decked out in head to toe haute couture(lol) and everyone wears jeans now. It was a laid back, nice fab vacation. Well, not really laid back for us, obviously, with two little boys - one of whom had decided he was potty trained days before the trip and so would NOT under any circumstances pee in his 'pull ups' on the plane or anywhere else for that matter (even though I begged him to at one point) to this mothers' consternation and extreme annoyance. I mean, picture me- exhausted, bleary eyed at some ungodly hour, running down the narrow plane aisle to get Numero Uno to the stinky, cramped plane loo, while he's crying hysterically that "Poo-poo's coming, Mama!". Of course we get there, and nada. Just a few miserable drops of pee. All this after almost dislocating my arm to prevent him from falling down the cavernous, stinky toilet bowl. Now rewind and picture this twenty or so more times during the same flight. Exactement. I am grateful the boy is (finally) potty trained, don't get me wrong, but dear Lord, where is a nanny when you need one? I know, I'm a bad Momma. :-)

The boys (en Paris), having a laugh at our expense

But this picture of Numero Uno staring out his hotel room window, soaking up the culture, made all his hassling almost seem worth it. Almost.

Mom of the Year, pp

My Husband, The Rockstar

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My dear, dear man and I celebrated our 5th year anniversary yesterday. It makes me almost choke up now, when I remember who and where we both were in life, then. I was working full time at a Non-profit in Baltimore, while going to law school for my L.L.M, and interning for a Judge in Baltimore. Whew. He was no less busy, struggling to learn the ropes in real estate, under a mentor who unfortunately didn't pay that well. I remember us scrambling to get to the mall to buy his ring before 2pm - which was the time we were supposed to meet our four witnesses (family and friends) in our Pastor's office, for a small, legal marriage blessing. ( The 'Big Do' would follow the following year, but that is a story for another day. )

It just so happened that this year, five years later, we fought the day before our anniversary. A "not speaking to you like ever' tiff. And so I go off to work, sure my anniversary will be just another day, you know? When my darling man calls and asks where I want to go for dinner, still icy, I politely decline. I thaw after a few minutes and concede to a movie. We will go see 'The Dark Knight'. Hardly romantic, I know, but that's the mood I am in. Movie mood. We meet up there, me wearing the same Ann Taylor linen shift I wore at our wedding 5 years ago, (it still fits. 5 years and two kids later!) and he, a bleach stained (I kid you not) T-shirt and jeans. The movie is crappy and I scarf down a whole tub of bad movie popcorn, but at least we're friends again.

We get home at 10 pm and I head to the bedroom to rest my weary bones. And viola! I wouldn't go to dinner, so this darling, darling man that I married, brings dinner to me. In our bedroom. With the lights properly dimmed. From our favorite french restaurant that we usually go back to on nearly every anniversary, 'Tersugels'. And there is wine. And Salmon with butter infused shrimp 'cous cous'. And Lobster salad. And Peach Flan. And steak. And he changed into the white shirt he wore on our wedding day too. And... I'm just happy I chose this man to go through life with. I truly, truly am. Happy anniversary darling man. You Rock!

pradalicious

Potty Mouth

Bad words. Like s--t and st--id and 'shut up'. That's the phase we're in now - 'numero uno' son and I. It is a constant battle between us, made all the more difficult because he is, afterall only repeating what Mark* says. And as long as he prefaces it with "Mama, Mark said {insert expletive here). Bad word!", I am supposed to be okay with it. I mean, he is merely acting in his capacity as an objective journalist, providing verbatim quotes, but not really saying the 'bad words', right? Wrong, buddy.

I on the other hand, am trying to find the delicate balance of letting him know those words are not acceptable in our house, and from his mouth in any house for that matter, without getting too excited, as that would invariably have the same effect as making him say them even more, just to get a reaction from me. Sigh. Being an adult and a parent can be so tiresome. Why my kid has to be be BFFs with Mr. Potty Mouth is beyond me. So, does washing one's mouth out with soap and water really work?

* name changed to protect tots identity.

Speaking of mouths, (I know, clever segue) the good folks at 'Let's Dish' are offering a free - yes free - dinner for all new (even repeat) moms from May 4th to the 11th in honor of Mothers Day. I love free stuff and I love 'Let's Dish'! My hubby and I went to the Columbia location last year and had a blast. Plus we came away with meals for weeks and weeks. Delish and cost effective, which always works for me... (P>S. Not sure if they are only based in Maryland, but you could check the website and/or facebook page to find out.)

toodles, PP

Brava! (Escape from Alcatraz)

At least that's how I felt when my friend (who is visiting from the U.K) and I were finally able to coordinate a girls night out. Finally. Ah, Sweet Freedom. No burps nor bibs, no mess, no kids. No nursing bras - can I get an Amen, someone? Just me, my girl, subdued lighting, animated conversation and delish Sangria. I really don't need much to feel human. Plus I clean up pretty nice, if I do say so myself. (Hic) :-)