The Battle of Turkey Pasta

He’d eaten it a million times.  Well, that’s exaggerating. He’s eaten Kraft Mac & Cheese and/or turkey dogs a million times. He’d eaten this many times and always liked it. What’s not to like about pasta with marinara sauce and ground turkey? Though it had been a while since he’d had it, that shouldn’t have mattered.  

My Little Dude is a picky eater, that's no secret. He always has been. Even with the baby food in jars he was given at six months old, he rejected most of them.  Usually all over me and my clothes.

But one exception to the rule has been Mrs. Dude’s famous “Turkey Pasta”.  She’s made it for years and he’s always been a big fan, just as I am. And in some weird coincidence, he usually wears a white or light-colored shirt on the days that he eats it.  That’s partly why we buy kegs of stain remover at Costco.   

"Big Tubes" & "Worms" pictured.

But a few months ago, my sister came to visit and introduced the Little Dude to a new culinary treat: “Butter Pasta”.   I can’t really argue that in most circumstances items topped with butter usually taste better than items mixed with turkey, but this dish may be an exception to that rule.  My sister made butter pasta for my nieces and the Little Dude immediately took to it. So much so that he started requesting it multiple times a week.  If he gets excited to eat something we get excited, though in this case I wish it had a little more protein in it.

Given his affection for his new favorite dish, and the ease of preparation, he started eating it a lot. Also since it was over 100 degrees for most of the summer and Turkey Pasta can be a heavy meal, we didn’t make it much over the last couple months.  But I figured it was time to bring it back. Just as people clamor for the McRib every time McDonald’s puts it back on the menu, so should the Little Dude enjoy his beloved Turkey Pasta once again.

Mrs. Dude took him to the grocery store to pick out pasta, as he is very intrigued by the various shapes. He picked out butterflies (farfalle), corkscrews (fusilli), tubes (penne) and more. Then he helped pour them into the boiling water, watching excitedly as they danced around the bubbles.  He waited as the shapes were mixed with sauce and put in his favorite bowl on the table for him.  

And then he refused to eat it.

He wanted something else to eat.  Butter Pasta. Which is OK sometimes, but that’s not what we’d prepared and it’s time for him to get on the same page as us. Making two separate meals is annoying. 

The next hour was not a fun course of events, with many tears shed and a failed bribery attempt, but in the end he opted to go to bed hungry and mad.  Which is a truly heartbreaking thing for a parent to watch but was entirely his choice.

Punishment came when he bounded into our room this morning at 5:30am, cheerful and happy. Acting as though nothing had occurred ten hours earlier.  “I’m hungry!” he giggled.

Perfect! We are having Turkey Pasta for breakfast...

How have you or would you deal with a situation like this?

Up in the Air

One of my favorite bloggers and also a good friend, You Know It Happens At Your House, Too, kindly asked me to write a guest post for her short series featuring Dad Bloggers this month & here it is. Thanks, Tara!  

You should follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too. Especially if you like pictures of Johnny Depp. 

Before I was married, I used to travel a lot for business. Connecting flights to random airports were the norm for me. If I was lucky I got upgraded to First Class. If not, I usually tried to sit in the quiet part of the plane, i.e. away from the parents traveling with little kids.

It’s not that I didn’t like kids, it’s just that I was invariably seated next to a mother traveling with screaming triplets and no other adults to help. I really think it must have been a similar experience that inspired the invention of noise-cancelling headphones.

Yes, I had no sympathy. I just wanted quiet so I could read in peace watch my DVDs of Anchorman or Old School for the 64^th time.  Do you know anyone who likes being kicked in the back for 3 straight hours?  I walked off of many flights feeling like a soccer ball after the World Cup.

That all changed when I became a parent and started flying with the Little Dude. He was 7 months old and it was our first trip as a family of 3. We’d pre-boarded our aisle and middle seats in the bulkhead of the plane. A few minutes later, a woman approached and noticed us. The look of disgust on her face resembled Morgan Spurlock’s after he ate at McDonalds every day for a month.  I watched her complain to the flight attendant before ultimately taking her seat. Let’s just say that my kid is so charming that within 30 minutes of departure she wanted to hold him.  It wasn’t lost on me that the way I’d long felt about kids on planes was being forced to evolve now that I was on the other side of the equation.

Traveling solo, I was thrilled to board a recent flight before most of the cabin. I staked out my carryon space in the overhead compartment and watched the huddled masses squeeze down the aisle, silently guessing who I would get stuck with. As I was getting settled in my aisle seat, I saw a woman with a screaming newborn baby headed in my direction.  I cringed and empathized concurrently.

They slowed down and sat across the aisle from me. I thought to myself that it was going to be a long 90 minutes. But then my parental instinct kicked in and told me to chill. I watched as they got settled and the baby calmed down a little.  It’s not a stretch to say I’ve mellowed over the last 2 ½ years.  But I felt much more at ease than I anticipated given the situation was compounded by my lack of sleep and change of time zones. As I was trying to get comfortable, a man claimed the window seat to my right and I stood up to let him pass.

I sat back down and was checking email on my iPhone when I heard someone say “excuse me, sir”. I looked up to see a woman with a boy who was probably 7 or 8 years old. “That’s his seat.”

Caught off guard, I stood up and let the boy pass. He had an Elmo backpack slung over his shoulders and was clutching a teddy bear tightly. He sat nervously between me and the window-seat man.

I looked around, expecting his mother to be headed off the plane after having dropped him off. Maybe to see his grandparents or his father, I wondered to myself.  Instead, she was headed 4 rows behind me to her own middle seat.

It was my turn in a heated game of Words with Friends, but I was suddenly distracted despite an available Triple Word space.  I started to feel badly for the young boy stuck alone between two strangers.  It wasn’t that long of a flight and he had things to occupy him, but I wondered how he was feeling. Was he scared? Should I say something to put him at ease? And it made me wonder how I would feel if my own young son was in his position.

I looked to my left and suddenly that baby didn’t seem to be crying so loud anymore.

I stood up and turned around. I spotted the boy’s mother and asked her if she wanted to switch seats.  With a look of joy and a tear in her eye, she happily said yes.

So I grabbed my things, headed down the aisle and crammed into a middle seat for 90 minutes. It was totally worth it.

Dude vs Nature

I’m admittedly not an outdoorsy person. I went to sleep-away camp for many summers as a kid and my least favorite experience every single year was the night we had to hike into the woods, roll out our sleeping bags in the dirt and actually go camping. Yes, nature is beautiful, wonderful, etc. I’d just rather observe it while driving by in an air-conditioned vehicle. 

So when I received an email inviting my family to a KOA Blogger Event, I was excited. Then I Googled “KOA” to see what it was. If you don’t know, as I didn’t, KOA stands for “Kampgrounds of America” which is a company that franchises campgrounds throughout the US. Knowing absolutely nothing about camping, I assumed people just walked into the woods, popped tents and did their thing. I now know those people are usually known as vagabonds or hobos.  

After learning what KOA was, however, I figured this event wasn’t for us. To me, roughing it means staying at a Hilton that doesn’t offer a full breakfast buffet. Then I looked at the KOA website and saw that this wasn’t just camping. It was “glamping”. And yes, that’s a real term people use, meaning "glamour camping".  While there are traditional campsites for people who enjoy sleeping on dirt, many KOAs also offer luxury cabins, teepees and other amenities that are the antithesis of “roughing it”.

The event was being held the weekend of Mrs. Dude’s birthday, so I figured that’d be a good reason not to go.  Since neither of us could be considered “outdoorsy” by anyone other than an agoraphobic, I figured the birthday girl would nix the offer. But then again, it’s been so long since we’ve had a real vacation that I would’ve considered a getaway to Siberia if it was free. Lo and behold, when I told Mrs. Dude she said we should do it. (Camping, not Siberia.)

I really didn’t know what to expect as we trekked the 50-something miles to KOA Ventura Ranch. Frankly, I was surprised to learn that there is real-live nature so close to where we live. Nestled in the mountains near the town of Ojai, CA, I was captivated by the beauty of the surroundings as soon as we entered the area. And not just because there wasn’t a McDonalds or Starbucks in sight.    

We drove to our “Comfort Cabin” and unloaded enough stuff for a week, even though we were only staying 24 hours:

We had a queen-size bed, full bathroom, mini-fridge, microwave and air-conditioning. (It wouldn't be camping without artificial air.)  And to top it off, literally, was a loft area where our Little Dude could play, hang out and sleep.  He thought it was the coolest thing ever. I did, too, until I cracked my head on the super-low ceiling for the first time. 

As you can see, they maximized the cabin space by limiting the width of the staircase leading to the loft:  

We wanted to explore the property a bit before dinner and since their pool is under construction, we wandered down to the creek. I already felt like a figurative fish-out-of-water by this experience, and that was compounded when I found myself surrounded knee-deep by literal fish-in-water.  Schools of tiny white minnows fluttered in the clear water as we walked by. I could almost feel their sliminess through the water:

The Little Dude was having so much fun he almost had to be dragged out of the water. And not just because his non-waterproof diaper bloated when immersed and weighed about 11 lbs.  

With a new diaper in place we headed to the recreation area. They had a giant jumping pillow, but after he nearly got catapulted off by an overeager tween’s flying leap, he’d had enough.  He was too small for the rock wall and most of the other activities, but was eager to ride the peddle bikes with me. I can’t remember the last time I rode a bike in general, and am pretty sure I’ve never done it with a 35-lb lump sitting on my lap. As we navigated the dirt path, the Little Dude cackled with delight while my legs burned in agony. 

At dinner KOA buttered us up, literally, with rich buttercream. They got a special cupcake-cake in honor of Mrs. Dude’s birthday:

Thankfully my child/picky eater, who declined the hosted BBQ dinner, wolfed down two cupcakes in his mother’s honor. And looked like Heath Ledger’s Joker in the process:

Our amenities were very comfortable and our son was so tired from his fun day that he crashed on the loft for 10+ hours. After he passed out Mrs. Dude and I ended up talking, which is apparently an evening activity that people utilized in the old days.  In our attempts to connect with nature, we’d left our laptops at home. Who would have known that a 75-acre campground had Wi-Fi? Thankfully our iPhones had full service. 

Since you are reading this, you know that we survived our night in the wilderness.  And much more pleasantly than I ever would have imagined.  I've stayed in motels in big cities with much scarier accommodations and  surroundings than this. Considering the closest I normally get to nature is buying Girl Scout Cookies every year, I am glad to know that glamping exists.  Even if I had to venture all the way into nature to experience it.
  

Disclosure: KOA hosted us at Ventura Ranch and provided a cabin, meals and more fresh air than an Angeleno is used to. This post is entirely my opinion.  
For more info or to find the nearest KOA campground, please visit KOA.com.

New Kid In Town

Remember the first day of school and how much it always sucked?  If you were new in the neighborhood, maybe you’d met a neighbor or two who offered to show you the ropes. Or maybe everyone was a jerk. Either way, you had to go and make the best of it and hopefully get something out of the experience.

Much like when I started 10^th grade, I had a similar experience attending the inaugural Dad 2.0 Summit bloggers conference in Austin, Texas recently.  After attending a local meetup for attendees, I was the lucky winner of a free pass to the event.  It was a little nerve-wracking to travel to an event with 200 dudes that I didn’t know and had to make new friends. In hindsight, I should have brought candy. Or, after meeting this group, liquor.

Let me preface things by saying that the weather in Texas sucked.  It was almost like if a typhoon and a hurricane had a baby in a Wal-Mart bathroom.  It was cold, wet, ugly and generally depressing.  But since I grew up in Ohio, it wasn’t that big of a difference to me.  

The view from my room upon arrival. 

The Hyatt Lost Pines is quite a distance from Austin proper. Once I got to the property, it was a few miles down a curvy road to the resort.  As a very curious person, I had to wonder why the posted speed limit on that road was 19mph. Not 20. Not 15.  As we got closer, another sign listed the limit as 11mph. As a generally curious person, I had to know why. I asked at the front desk, waiting for a quirky or creative Texan answer and all I got was an “Idaknow”.  Based on his eloquence, that guy must be a writer.

At the kickoff party that night, I quickly ran into the 3 people I’d met in LA and they introduced me to some other people and so on and so forth. My nerves were quickly settled, even though as a novice blogger in a world of big timers, I felt like a rookie called up to the big leagues for the first time.  The people I met were very friendly and outgoing while offering real insight and advice that was very useful.  So thank you to whoever paid for the open bar.

The peanut butter cookies were epic.

Over the next 3 days we ate more varieties of meat than I think are even legal in California. I think I saw something green to eat once during my trip, but it might have just been a bug or a napkin.  They fed us amazing homemade cookies at 10:30am each day, presumably to inspire us to behave for the keynote speakers.  That seemed ironic to me since most parents wouldn’t give their generally unruly kids cookies in order to get them to sit still for an extended period of time. 

I heard some great speakers, including both the opening and closing keynote speakers who detailed their experiences fighting the inner-ear malady tinnitus. My guess is they were kidnapped from a nearby hearing aid conference.

I gained practical advice from some amazing panels of expert bloggers who probably didn’t realize how inspirational they were to a newbie like me. Sometimes I just listened to their conversations and learned, like the previously mentioned rookie watching a veteran slugger taking batting practice at Spring Training.

I got to test drive the new Honda Pilot, which inspired me to want to figure out how to make money blogging since my own Pilot just turned 8 years old.  I learned that you shouldn’t call those famous building toys “Legos”. They are referred to as “Lego Bricks”.  They can also be referred to as “@$!#$!” after you step on them with your bare feet after giving them to your kid when you get home from a long trip.  I drank root beer after eating some fiery New Orleans-style beans and rice. This was primarily notable because I hadn’t had a root beer in over 20 years. So I had like 9 of them.  Even modesty is bigger in Texas.

I met some great writers whose work I’d admired from afar that I can now call friends.  I’ve also located a network of great writers who all live within 15 minutes of me whom I’d had no idea about just a few weeks ago.  And I learned that if you think it’s smart to go out at 1am in a city you don’t know, stick to McDonald’s and save yourself a big chunk of time.