DIL and sister wife left this morning to drive back up to SF. I still have my son until tomorrow. He flies out mid-morning to the east coast and I’m not looking forward to the thirty-five minute drive and the lunacy of the airport. At its best it’s not pleasant. Now they’re undergoing major construction delays and it’s another level of Hell. For the moment, home is reminiscent of the old days; he’s sitting at the dining room table with a computer surrounded by piles of books, only this time he’s not writing a report or research paper, he’s grading essays.
I can’t believe this little sk8r boy of mine goes to work and fifteen college freshman call him Professor Angel Boy. Of course, they don’t REALLY call him Angel Boy, but I think they should. It’s hard to wrap my brain around the concept. It’s mind boggling. Especially since he still derives the greatest pleasure by shocking me with offensive earsplitting and vulgar expulsions of intestinal gas that serves as his initial form of communication when he opens the front door (Insert loud breaking wind sounds here) “Hi, mom, I’m home!” or belching as commentary while we’re enjoying a lovely meal at the dinner table, like Thanksgiving. Apparently, my laughing is an ineffective method of dissuading that kind of behavior. Sometimes I tell him he’s disgusting but he finds that a compliment rather than a criticism. His wife thinks he’s funny too; even the captain finds him humorous, shaking his head, “That’s our boy!” almost, no, not almost–completely proud of him– so it’s hopeless. The dichotomy between his academic braininess and his juvenile antics is-uh-refreshing. It’s no wonder I treat him like he’s still in the third grade. It’s as if he never left elementary school with the stupid arm farts and the other robust sounds and smells that emanate from all of his orifices. I keep my fingers crossed that when he meets with his department heads or his publisher that he remembers all the lessons in good manners we practiced and he only acts out here as the living embodiment of the prodigal son. Like I said, fingers crossed.
I’m in the kitchen baking another loaf of Whole Wheat Bread. Tonight we had Moroccan Pumpkin Stew (recipe below) with steamed brown rice and Seared Ahi ‘cos I have to make sure he gets enough protein.
It’s kind of cold, damp, and foggy; after dinner we made a fire and played Scrabble. He won, of course–232 to 219.
An assortment of desserts; apple pie, black bean brownies, oatmeal cookies
Beautiful flowers from my Angel Boy
Moroccan Pumpkin Stew
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 medium onions, peeled and cut in large chunks
- 1 medium carrot, peeled and cut in large chunks
- 6 small potatoes, well-scrubbed but not peeled, cut in half
- 1-1/2 cups fresh pumpkin, peeled and cut in large chunks
- 1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
- 1-1/2 teaspoons ground coriander
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 cinnamon stick
- 1-1/2 cups canned tomato, chopped
- 1 cup water
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 2 tablespoons raisins
Heat the oil in a large heavy saucepan over medium high heat. Add the onions, carrot, potato, and pumpkin and saute for 5-10 minutes, stirring from time to time. When vegetables have softened, add the ginger and garlic. Continue to saute for 2-3 minutes, then add the turmeric, coriander, cumin and cinnamon stick. Cook for another 5-8 minutes, then add the canned tomato and 1 cup of water. Bring to a simmer, season with salt and pepper, then add the raisins. Allow to cook for 18-25 minutes until all vegetables are soft – but don’t overcook. Serve over or with brown rice.
- Sweet Potato Hummus (professorarmstrong.com)
I love it…the angel boy, the professor and I am sure when he is in front of colleagues etc he remembers every manner you ever taught him. But how nice when he comes home he can regress.
Like I say, fingers crossed He is still capable of picking his nose and showing me.
On Mon, Nov 26, 2012 at 7:33 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
I like to believe that my children are only ill-behaved at home. Because it’s a safe place. And because my ego cannot bear another story. Yum on the pumpkin stew. I believe it’s what’s for dinner at my house tonight. Thanks for the recipe!
They say if kids act out at home, it’s because they feel safe, which is a good thing. when they act out at school, it’s because something might be going wrong at home
I wished I had a prof in college named Professor Angel Boy, just so I could say it! Your stew looks delish.
I was reading some of the kids’ essays, have their email address, might tell them about Prof angel boy, whaddya think?
I say go for it. I mean, you are his mom!!
Boys will always be boys won’t they? I was warning my son to watch his crass-college language before a little boy was visiting and he rolled his eyes and told me he’s not a MORON. the pumpkin recipe looks yummy and I just dumped a big one, rats. Glad you had such a wonderful weekend!
I hear you. BWBB. I recommend the pumpkin stew, it really was good. you can use any kind of winter squash, i believe it would still work. I am exhausted now. and here comes the cleanup.
On Mon, Nov 26, 2012 at 12:59 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
Love the pumpkin stew!! Love scrabble! The flowers are gorgeous!! And kudos to your son for being a professor!! Hard work & commitment, but rewarding : )
Yeah, he didn’t figure there’d be so much prep for his classes. I tried to warn him, (as a former teach) but he didn’t believe me. His students really like him, so I guess he’s doing a good job. My pix didn’t do the stew justice, but it was full of good flavors.
On Mon, Nov 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
You are such a good Mama! And that stew looks delicious. Will definitely try. Happy for you to get to spend some quality time with your Angel baby. And now I know, geniuses fart too LOL!
BTW, I made those brownies again. Half were left that same night, and when I got up in the morning, they had just disappeared – container and everything. No one will say they did it. The case of the disappearing black bean brownies! Just too good.
On Mon, Nov 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
Oh, that is funny. I hope no one gets constipated from consuming the container, but the fiber in the black bean brownies should help to move things along.
I used to call my grandson “Angel Boy”; he’s nine and doesn’t appreciate it. Hey Your Angel Boy has quite a head of hair there! It gorgeous.
The curls don’t fall far from the tree. Everyone knows who his mom is! When he was 9 mine wasn’t angel boy. That came later, ha ha!
On Mon, Nov 26, 2012 at 8:41 PM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
Yours is in reverse? Mine drove me crazy as they got older…teen years, God help us! They are settling down nicely,(I should keep my mouth SHUT). We’ll see how Jr. here does!
On Tue, Nov 27, 2012 at 6:20 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo
Your day will come! BTW, as much as you love your kid(s), you find and extra chamber opens in your heart when grandkids arrive. Scary, but wonderful.
I look forward to the day.
On Tue, Nov 27, 2012 at 8:49 AM, Enchanted Seashells…Confessions of a Tugbo