Little Helper


Photo: Wild turkeys are a thing here in Massachusetts. They are protected for some reason and they are mean little suckers. Aggressive and big and slow to move. Just awful. I’m really not a fan. Usually they rove around in little posses, flexin’ on mailmen and poor people just trying to walk to and fro. This homie seems to have ventured out on his own. He wandered around the raised beds for a few minutes and then wandered off. My boys were trying their absolute best to leave our front porch and chase after him. I wouldn’t let them (I’m tellin’ you, they’re mean!), but Lord if the boys weren’t gonna take off at any second.


Last week was a challenging one, the weekend was exhausting (I ran solo with the boys while The Husband went on a trip), and here we are on Monday and it looks like last week’s problems are going to chase me through this one, too. Oh, and while The Husband brought awesome swag back with him from his trip, he also brought a spider. When I told The Husband to find something to kill the spider with, the spider was no where to be found.

So there is a large spider in my house.

From Texas.

So it must be poisonous. Obviously.

In my house.

On the loose.

I… might burn the entire house down after writing this post.

I’m resisting the urge… I really am.

Ok, I’m going to breathe into the good that happened today. Specifically, Ursa Minor redeemed himself for last week’s poor showing. Our docket was quite full today and yet the boys still requested spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  I had a 30-minute window to roll meatballs between picking up Minor from school and heading out to afternoon activities. It was possible, but it would have to be precisely executed.

That’s when Minor uttered the words no mom wants to hear when time is tight:

Can I help you make them?

Lord in Heaven. Save the mama. Save the babies. Whenever a child utters these words, 15-minute jobs turn into 60-minute catastrophes.

He would not be denied and arguing with him wasted precious seconds, so I told him I’d get us set up and then he could help me.

“I want to do the smushing part.”

I know, baby.

I washed and chopped veggies before putting them in my food processor. I gave it a few pulses before Minor came over and insisted on lending a hand (what 5 year-old can resist a button?). I got the bowl ready, took out the breadcrumbs, the cheese, and the glass pyrex that would house the meatballs after they were rolled. By the time I’d gathered what I needed, Minor had almost over-chopped the veggies!

He watched carefully and asked questions as I poured the breadcrumbs, cheese, eggs and chopped veggies into the bowl. “Can I smush now!?”

I let him smush.

I crumbled the beef and pork into the bowl with the stuff.

“This is the best part! This is my favorite part!” He announced with glee.

I tried to teach him how to effectively mix: taking stuff from the bottom and bringing it up to the top, mixing and turning in a rhythm. Then it was time to roll… I thought he was going to disappear for that part.

“I can do that, too!”

Dear Reader, that child made the most consistent, perfectly sized meatballs I’ve ever seen in my life. They were adorable. And can I tell you, he did it so well that not only did I get all of those meatballs rolled within the half hour, I got them rolled with ten minutes to spare.

I couldn’t believe it! “You’re a master sous-chef, sir!”

“I’m the best meatball maker! The best! I did it!”

I washed my hands and helped him wash his. He got down from the stool and did a little dance. “I’m, like, totally ready to go to cooking school now. I could totally go to cooking school. Or, maybe meatball school! Well, maybe not, because I can’t use a knife yet. Mommy has to do that.”

“That’s true, sure. You need to know how to use a knife to go to cooking school.”

“Well,” he was still dancing, just in case you were wondering, “maybe you can come and do the cutting and set me up and then I could do the rest of the cooking. I could totally make meatballs on my own now!”

This is my child. Do it one time and he’s the supreme expert. I don’t even know what to do with him sometimes. For his hard work, though, I gave him a cookie. “Don’t tell your brother.”

(He totally told his brother. Lord.)

I have a confession to make, Dear Reader: I actually suck at cooking meatballs. I cannot seem to fry them right. They fall apart right in the pan when I turn them over. Are you an expert in meatball technique? I’d love to learn! I usually put them in a cast iron skillet with a little olive oil and throw them into a 400 degree oven until they are done. They creates a cooked meatball, for sure, but they don’t have that glorious texture on the outside that a signature fried meatball has. If any of ya’ll would be willing to teach a suffering non-Italian how to cook a good meatball, I’m a quick study and I’d love to learn!

It’s Monday, Dear Reader. Are challenges chasing you into this week? Take a deep breathe. We’re gonna work it out this week. One day at a time.

Until Wednesday, take care.

11 Comments Add yours

  1. Turkeys do actually get pretty aggressive and I remember childhood experience of being pursued by a crazy Turkey.

    1. K.C. Wise says:

      They are MAD aggressive and they are the WORST!!! There is videos of them pecking and chasing people! WORST LITTLE BEASTS! But they are crazy protected here in Massachusetts. I think they are the state bird…? Whatever. Some of those things are bigger than my boys!

  2. Tikeetha T says:

    Very cool Minor. He should go to cooking school.

    1. K.C. Wise says:

      That boy can do whatever he wants in the world.
      As long as he gets a job and pays for it. 😉 I’m going broke just trying to feed him and enrich him with music. Dang, ya’ll! Babies are expensive!

      1. Tikeetha T says:

        LOL. This is true. Wait until he gets to school and then go ahead and have that little girl.

        1. K.C. Wise says:

          Lord, but then we exchange that preschool tuition for that Diaper Budget. Brutal! I flirted for a second with the idea of doing cloth diapers if we had a third and then it was like my personal guardian angel smacked me upside my head: who has time for that? With a THIRD? That’s FIRST BABY nonsense right there!!

          Besides that, all my third-baby-money is about to go to Camille Rose because Shea Moisture is cancelled and these locs will need their product. Camille Rose is –expensive–. Killin’ me. Have you ever used it? Is it worth that crazy cash??

          1. Tikeetha T says:

            LOL. Yep, that is first baby thinking. No one has time for that. Not with cooking and two other children. Nope, I’ve never heard of the products. When you buy them write a post about whether or not you like them. I have to check them out.

          2. K.C. Wise says:

            That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll do that. The first line will be, “I can’t believe I paid $16 for a single hair product. That’s ridiculous.”

            Hey, I joined Black Bloggers United. You should look them up. Very robust FB networking happening.

          3. Tikeetha T says:

            LOL. I did. I joined them in March. I’m trying to keep up with everything. LOL.

          4. K.C. Wise says:

            Well look at that! Good!

            I’m not sure it’s going to work out for me. There don’t seem to be any other bloggers up my way, so no opportunity for meet ups. 🙁 also, my blog isn’t selling anything or doing reviews or serving a purpose… not on that level, anyway. I’m going to stay a little longer, but it might not be the best fit.

          5. Tikeetha T says:

            I get it. I want to check it out, but I don’t sell anything either so I’m not sure if it will benefit for me. However, the meet up in DC is on May 20th and I’m planning on attending. I’m volunteering at the Liver Walk that morning so I will be really casual at 12pm.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.