BREAKFAST AT McDADDY'S



I love having breakfast at McDonald's.

Truth be told, I would love to have breakfast at Jollibee even more, but since the nearest outlet is over a hundred miles away, it's more practical to set one's sights on what's attainable.

And so I'd gladly settle for breakfast under the Golden Arches. A highly elusive meal since I am rarely out of the house before 11 a.m..

Especially on weekends. Weekends are sacred in my family. Two glorious days when everyone can sleep in. All our close friends and family members know NOT to call us before noon on Saturday and Sunday. We leave our ringers off. This way, nobody wakes us up until we're ready and willing.

And so breakfast at McDonald's continues to elude us. Oh, we've learned to make do with what we have on hand, breakfast-wise. For instance, I've perfected a technique to making healthy Egg McMuffin sandwiches using just my microwave and a toaster (I use ham patties instead of sausage), and it's really quite easy to make a homemade version of McDonald's' Big Breakfast. On the odd occasion when I DO get up bright and early, I even top Mickey D.'s big breakfast by offering WAFFLES instead of pancakes.

But there is one thing I haven't tried duplicating at home. McDonald's Breakfast Burritos. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE biting into the soft tortilla filled with all the components of my favorite breakfast omelette, but the idea of making scrambled eggs in one pan, cooking sausages in another, chopping up onions and peppers and sauteeing them in a third pan and heating tortillas over the last available burner does NOT appeal to me.

Good thing my husband doesn't share this attitude (okay, so it WAS defeatist in nature). Fueled by the good weather over the weekend, Lorenzo woke up with a spring in his step and a determined look in his eye. He headed straight for the kitchen, his stride purposeful, his heart set. He was on the hunt for ingredients to the BEST BREAKFAST BURRITO EVER, and nothing would stand in his way.

He quickly found the eggs, which he scrambled with a liberal sprinkling of freshly ground pepper. The pantry yielded a package of Mission Garden Spinach Herb Wraps and a large can of Rosarita's refried beans. And then there was the business of choosing which sausage: breakfast? smoked? Chinese? Kielbasa? Vienna? Lorenzo settled on Chinese. There was a slight setback when he couldn't find any onions and green peppers. Undaunted, he soldiered on, discovering red potatoes and utilizing these, diced and pan-fried in extra virgin olive oil.

With a flourish, Lorenzo assembled his culinary masterpiece over the green glorified tortillas and added the final touches: coarsely grated cheddar and jack cheese and a liberal dollop of salsa.

It was, in a word, divine. The taste of the Chinese sausage brought me back to my childhood, but the eclectic melding of Eastern and Tex-Mex flavors, the smoothness of the refried beans, the chewy stringiness of the cheese, and the piquant zing of the salsa brought me pleasure in the present. The bold flavor of the sausage was a little too strong for Lance and Troy, so Daddy made them vegetarian versions, which they downed with gusto. Later, Lorenzo would make them more, this time with Vienna sausage, which won the boys' immediate stamp of approval.




So there you have it, our very own version of McDonald's breakfast burritos, courtesy of our very own MacDaddy.

Now if I could only find the secret recipe for those hash browns...


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the latest in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET, and in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

FATHERLY ADVICE




(Prada Mama's NOTE: For the first time in the history of this blog, I am featuring a GUEST WRITER, my HUSBAND, Don Lorenzo de Modesto, who had THIS to say about Lance's little VISIT to the Principal's Office. He also posted this in the Comments section to "Should've Touched Wood", but I think it deserves more visibility, so I'm posting it here.

Read it, and I think you'll agree...)


I actually sat him down and we had a Man to Man talk. I explained to him that this type of behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated, therefore he must be punished.

My poor boy was really feeling down for what he did and most of all for being grounded. So I told him that he should always look on the bright side, no matter what the situation may be...it could be worse. I told him that the best thing about making a mistake is that you learn from it and hopefully it'll make you a better person. With that in mind, I hope that this incident doesn't repeat itself.

But, if for some unexplainable reason it does...never hit the face, go for a bigger target, center mass, you'll never miss. And if the odds are overwhelmingly against you, hit (kick and/or knee) between the legs and do an openhanded strike smack dab on the nose, hopefully with enough force (it doesn't take much) just to break it but not too much as to shove pieces of bones and cartilage to the brain. Remember, the object is to neutralize, not euthanize the threat. I also shared with my boy all the bad words in my book, in English, Spanish, Vietnamese and Tagalog.

In closing, I told my boy, in the future, if you know you're about to act on something that is wrong; if you are going to make a mistake, make it BIG. Make sure the punishment is well worth the crime. I will miss you on our Movie Night. Mommy and I will forever love you.


Now doesn't THAT just make you feel warm and fuzzy all over?


(PLUGGING: For more warm and fuzzy family moments (genuine, this time) Read "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on 87 GENTLE STREET.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX!




Okay, the pea soup fog has dissipated, and the sun is out again.

I must say that I haven't really learned my lesson because once more, I am declaring this to be a BEAUTIFUL day. (see previous post)

No, I am not in some vain quest to tempt the gods. I don't care if Zeus himself throws a thunderbolt at me. Today I am impervious to assault. The reason? My son, MAX, is turning twelve today, and NOTHING can bring me down.

Twelve years. How time has passed. It seems just like yesterday when he was born, on that other beautiful day in Miami. Memories of more beautiful days flood my mind. Pushing him in the stroller at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Picking him up from Casa Montessori in Makati. Hearing his baby screams of delight upon touching the neighbor's cat in Cincinnati. And watching him frolic by the pool in Hong Kong.

The picture above was taken at the Conrad Hotel when Max was three. Later that evening, Max would freak me out in what has become one of my creepiest memories. There we were, in our hotel suite...

We had just bought a new Nikon SLR Camera with all the bells and whistles. I was eager to try it out, so I told Max to sit on the wooden chest in the bedroom. Max perched on the corner. I told him to move to the center so that I could take a better picture. Max says, "I can't". "Why not?", I ask, and his reply chills me to the bone: "Because there's someone there."

I did NOT sleep a wink that night.

Last week, I reminded Max of that scary moment in Hong Kong, and asked him if he remembered what he saw back then. I heard a chuckle on the other line. Turns out he was just playing with me at the time. And I was hoodwinked into believing it all these years.

Kids. They know just the right buttons to push, don't they?

SHOULD'VE TOUCHED WOOD

Talk about jinxing myself.

Yesterday, I wrote about the Prodigal Sun's return. Today, Lorenzo and I woke up to pea soup fog. And I mean PEA. SOUP. FOG.

Yesterday, I woke up hale and hearty. And then I dipped my Oreo into Lance's milk and IMMEDIATELY caught his cold. Serves me right for being too lazy to get another jug of milk from the garage.

Yesterday, I ended my post with the statement "NOTHING can dampen my day". Famous last words. Not even an hour later, Lance emerged from the school bus with a note pinned to his sweater, telling me he was sent to the Principal's Office for fighting with a classmate and using profanity. PROFANITY.

Great. I could feel a full-blown migraine rearing its ugly head. How could my son, whom I was informed was one of the smartest in his class, morph overnight from model student to juvenile delinquent? We're talking about a five-year-old here. In KINDERGARTEN.

I put on my sternest look and asked Lance what happened. He told me the other kid "took his spot in the line". Okay, I could see how that could push my son, the Alpha Male, into drastic action. But there was that other thing...

MOMMY: It says here you used profanity.
LANCE: What's profanity?
MOMMY: A bad word. Did you say a bad word to him?
(Silence. But the guilty look and averted eyes said everything.)
MOMMY: Tell me. What word did you say?
LANCE: (almost whispering) Asshole.

I tell you, I nearly had a conniption.

I know he didn't learn that word at home. The only TV channels my kids are allowed to watch are PBS Kids and Noggin, which is the only reason I pay Comcast Cable over a hundred dollars a month for their Platinum package.

Admittedly, Lorenzo and I are sometimes guilty of letting the odd Tagalog expletive slip past our immediately repentant lips, but such moments are few and far between.

And then the light turns on on top of my head. Yes, Lance may not have heard it AT HOME, but that doesn't mean he hasn't heard it FROM US. Like in THE CAR, for instance? Cursing out a fellow motorist in an unguarded moment?

I can almost hear the judge's gavel. GUILTY AS CHARGED.

And so, as I mete out punishment in the form of solitary confinement (in his room, doing homework) I make a mental note to be more careful myself.

Big Brother (along with Little Brother and Baby Sister) is watching.


(Finally, an update in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET! PLUGGING: "Day 1: The Flight of the Bumblebees", text and pictures available at both 87 GENTLE STREET and in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

THE SUN ALSO RISES

Ahhh...good ol' Sol's back.

We caught our first glimpse of the sun on Friday morning, which dawned beautifully. What made it even more special was LORENZO was there to join us at the beginning of our day. He didn't have to be at work until after lunch, so he was able to walk Lance to his school bus. This picture was taken when he returned home.



A funny thing happened on the way to the bus stop, but I'll let my husband tell you about it when he's ready. And yes, he's holding a toy car and a Power Ranger in his hands, but to say more would spoil the story.

So began the first sunny weekend we've had for quite a while. Lance and Troy couldn't wait to play outside, so they just donned jackets on top of their jammies, put on their shoes and helmets, and rode their tricycles around our backyard while Daddy worked on the pool.




I also made one of their favorite summer treats, Tuna Tostadas, which they ate minus the Tapatio chili sauce Mommy and Daddy can't do without. I got this recipe during Lance's preschool POOL PARTY last June. Just mix together drained cans of whole kernel corn, peas and carrots, diced potatoes, and tuna. Add diced fresh tomatoes and mayonnaise to taste. Sprinkle with freshly ground pepper. Serve on top of crispy tostadas (I prefer the Guerrero brand). Que rico.



It's also a clever way of disguising those veggies, so it's healthy to boot!

To counter cabin fever, I enrolled Lance and Troy in Kindergym. Yesterday, I took them to their first gym class, and they had a wonderful time. It was a great way to release all their pent-up energy. Too bad I forgot my camera, but I was able to capture this shot of Troy doing a forward roll with my cell phone.




I don't know how long this weather will hold up, but so far it's still beautiful out there. Maybe the worst of winter is behind us, but I wouldn't bet on it. Anyway, no matter how cold and dreary it is outside, I will always have my little rays of sunshine around me to make me feel warm all over.

Here comes one of them now, straight from raiding the cookie jar. The familiar scent of Eau de Oreo overcomes me.



And I know NOTHING can dampen my day.


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: The Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET, with additional pictures in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

MAMA GOOSE

What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and everything nice
That's what little girls are made of.




What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails
That's what little boys are made of.




What are great weekends made of, made of?
What are great weekends made of?
Babies and balls and warm bubble baths
THAT'S what great weekends are made of.


Weekend Quote:
(Heard while watching the "Godzilla" DVD...)

TROY: Mommy, what's a marshmallow cloud?
MOMMY: Anak, "mushroom cloud" ang tawag doon.


(PLUGGING: "Royal Holiday", the first in a new series of the same title in
87 GENTLE STREET, and additional unseen pictures in BRAG BOOK.)

BETTA CARE TEAM



Something fishy is going on in my household.

Actually, make that TWO fishies.

Two fishies who now make their home in my boys' room, one housed on top of the nightstand, and the other one adorning the bookcase.

Meet "Squeaky" and "Pretty", the newest additions to our family. Squeaky and Pretty are Betta splendens, a.k.a. Siamese Fighting Fish.

I have always found these fish to be quite beautiful. They also seem to be very hardy, which is perfect for my two boys. Every night, Lance and Troy feed their new pets, delighting in their aquatic antics.

Which sounds wonderfully normal, and not in the least bit fishy, that is until we get to the subject of actually NAMING the fishies.

Before Troy even handpicked his red betta from the pet store, he already declared that he wanted a fish named Squeaky. Don't ask me why. My eldest son, Max, got his first fish at around the same age. He named his Chubi (pronounced Choo-bee). Couldn't figure out THAT one either.

I personally think the betta Lance chose was prettier, although I would never say this out loud for fear of hurting Troy's feelings. Lance's fish, Pretty, is white with rainbow-like colors around its fins. Unlike it's peer however, THIS fish was named using some semblance of logic. It is, after all, a pretty fish.

And then Daddy broke the news. Pretty was a he.

I must say I admire the way Lance stuck to his guns. The boy does not have a single indecisive bone in his body. Upon serious consideration, my son announced that his fish would still be called "Pretty", even though it was a boy. He insisted, however, on adding a family name.

Sereno.

Two boys. Two fish. Two names.

One bizarre and devoid of all logic. One so logical it's borderline unimaginative.

Yin and Yang. Vive le difference.

Each one is a planet waiting to be discovered.

And both are loved without question.


(PLUGGING: "Royal Holiday", a new series about our family's Christmas vacation in 87 GENTLE STREET, and more unseen pictures in BRAG BOOK.)