No Bake Quesadillas*

My little birthday was oddly reflective this year-- 35, folks--which seems like a big turning point.  Combine my inward focus with a rainy day, a pre-schooler, two toddlers and an infant and even the most SSRI'd out there would reflect on their life path.  

It was a quiet little day on the island.  I met some friends for coffee then hung out with Mo for most of the day.  I had planned on journaling and setting some life goals but a colicky** baby got in the way of my awesome self actualization.  Oh well.

The kids did surprise me with a little dinner at home.

Moira and I went down stairs to check email (nurse)  and about one minute later I heard a chair moving across the floor above me.  Those of you with kids in the same life stage as mine know that the scraping rattle of a chair being moved is very, very dangerous.

Anywhoo-- I decided not to check it out, but instead call to the four year old*** to tell the two-two year olds to stop it.  He confirmed with an "ok".    So, I think we can all agree that this was a bad idea

Ominous noises continue and  I holler again to James who comes down.  I ask what he is doing and he says they are making me dinner.  Good. I ask him if they made a mess-- and he responds in a series of rapid fire statements:

"No."
"You wait right here, k?"
"I'll be right back,k?"
"You sit right here, while I'll be right back"

Then I hear upstairs a bad stage whisper: "Guys, GUYS. We have to CLEAN UP."    "GGGGUUUUUUYYYYYSSS!!!"

I have a pretty good idea of the bad news that's going on upstairs at this point but decide to give it thirty seconds so that they have at least a fighting chance at reducing the damage. Moira, still attached to me from our feeding/email session head upstairs to see this.

The apple slicer is obviously very helpful for this recipe. What a time saver.

I am saving this one to show her future prom date.

On tonight's menu: No bake quesadillas.  

I put M in her bouncy seat and started to clean up but Moira disagreed about this plan (likely fear of falling cheese) so I sat back down with her, nursed some more and snapped some photos.

Then, I called the babysitter to come a bit early.

Happy birthday to me.

Mo and I went out for a girls date, journaling, self-actualization and a little alcohol.  I'd call that a success.



*Alternate title: "Get the Cheese off the Baby."
**I think we are getting close to calling that formal diagnosis. . . . wow, girly gets UPSET.
***A perfectly responsible proxy parent.