Rosy in the garden

Eh - not really actually. 

You know, writing or blogging can be something that consumes me on a daily basis. Even if I am not sitting at the computer staring at a blank screen the words are rolling around somewhere. 

They might be in my head, they might be on the creases of a pillow case as I iron, they might be stuck behind the lower part of a chid's ear where you have to check because they seem to think it is not necessary to clean that body part. 

The words are always there and it is just a matter of time before I can reel them in, organise them a little and allow them to tell the story. Sometimes, I get in a flither about something (mad at the chef or the kids or ANYONE) and I want to get on the laptop and rant my heart out on the page, but I am 'thinking' horrible thoughts and words so I have to step away from the keyboard and take a walk. Get it out of my system; Sleep on it - even. 

I have been on holidays from college for one week. During that week I have accomplished absolutely nothing (or so I have been told) and seem to have 'running around like a chicken with my head cut off' 

down to a fine art. 

I have came and went. I have fed and cleaned up. I have dropped off and picked up. I have laughed and I have cried. I have fed animals, bathed animals, taken lovely photos of animals, walked my (chunky) little neglected dog, cooked and catered for my very very neglected husband, played with my kids every day (as opposed to chasing after them and discipling them for something) and yet - nothing has been accomplished.

No Christmas cards have been posted (hell not even printed), the laundry pile has reached is maximum peak allowed and the grumbling from my (almost always) tolerant chef has started. 'What have you been doing all day?' 'Do you know how much I can accomplish in six hours at work each day?' 'What are you going to get done today?' These are the questions he hurdles at me whilst complaining over the nice breakfast-in-bed he was eating this morning. 

God, why did I spoil him so? Well, we all know why - he rocks. He is a calm person. And I am not. As a matter of fact, I am the complete opposite of calm. I wake up early every morning (6am - my whole life) and I like to have an hour of reading and coffee drinking before the rest of the house wakes up. Hence the breakfast toting for the chef. 

He is letting me go back to college and fart around for an undetermined amount of years in order to follow my dream of someday becoming a writer and I suppose someday getting a job so he can retire. That is why I honest-to-God feel guilty when he starts nagging me. I feel like I should at least try to straighten up around here. I feel all these things. I am just lacking the serious motivation needed to accomplish the tasks at hand.

Once he goes to work, I start corralling at the kids to get organized, dressed and ready for school. And by corralling the kids I mean 'me screaming and shouting' and them racing around the house like chickens with their heads cut off looking for a shoe or pencil case that is most likely right where it should be - because I am organized, well sort of.

So I see the vicious circle. I see that if I remain quiet and calm then maybe they will too? Maybe if I duct tape my mouth closed and cannot yell and scream at them to get ready, then they will just line up like little ducks in perfect (neatly-dressed-faces-clean) order and they will be all lunches-packed and buckled-in by the time I turn the key in the ignition to take them to school.

Then, when I return home, because I have remained so 'calm' I will just swan in zen-like and tackle all the housework and have it done in FOUR hours before the chef gets home and I have to go pick up the wee ones from school.

And now, while I was waiting for that image above (about enjoying the silence) to upload, I clicked on my Google-homepage to read my daily horoscope:

My Horoscope AstroSync

Pisces By Rick Levine Although you are quite competent in how you analyze a project by separating it into manageable components, it's not necessary to make a big deal of what you are doing today. Fulfilling your commitments is important, but don't waste energy telling everyone how you developed your strategy. It's not important for others to know your inner process now; just focus on getting the job done.

Resistance is futile. I cannot help myself. EVEN my horoscope is telling me to 'get the housework done' and quit avoiding it....I bet Ron had something to do with this. That fucker.

Alright lads and lassies, Christmas is all but here. Is everyone else out there all ready with a clean house and every stitch of clothing in their house all washed, dried, ironed, folded and put away?

If you are, then please please please do not by any means comment on that fact. My husband may use it as evidence against me in my next 'excuse' battle.

A bah humbug kind of day, methinks.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today folks.............freezing but really pretty outside so going out to take some more photos of the birdies!

WiseMóna

Meaty Meatballs

We have a very noisy house. I am kind of loud (and overbearing) for the most part, and the kids can't sit at the table and have quiet conversation. There is always lively conversation or a debate over something  (or nothing) going on. 

Somehow, and I am thankful for this, dinner time in our house ends up being so much more than just 'dinner'. It is the place to be on a Friday night. 

Knowing that a few of our friends were coming over for supper, I decided to 'help' the Chef with dinner, because we were having one of my favourite things ever. Spagetti and meatballs.

Earlier this week, Ron had used up the last of our summer Basil plant (we say BAY-zihl; you say BA-zihl)

and made a tomato basil sauce. So the hard part was done. If you have never made your own pasta sauce and insist on buying the sugar loaded ones at the grocery store, then try this easy peasy recipe and you will be hooked. 

Basil Infused Olive Oil

2 cups Olive oil

1 whole bulb of garlic

1 med size onion (chopped)

2 good handfuls of Basil

Throw it all into a pot and cook until the onion and basil are turning brown, but not burnt. 

Remove from the heat and strain in a wire mesh strainer (not a plastic one)

Open five cans of plum tomatoes and dump into a large bowl. (chop the tomatoes if whole)

Add in your infused olive oil and voila. 

Pasta (or pizza) sauce, done! You can store it in the fridge for a week (easily) and we like to freeze little baggies of it for those nights when you just don't feel like cooking!

Next, onto the meatballs.

This is a fairly big recipe that fed 6 adults and four kids last night and we still have some meatballs in the fridge that might be 'Cheesy Meatball Sandwiches' for lunch later today.

1 1/2 pound Ground Beef

1 1/2 pound Ground Pork

1 1/2 pound Ground Turkey

2 cups fresh breadcrumbs (with chopped raw garlic and parsley)

6 eggs

2 cups of milk

1 cup grated parmesan cheese (can be omitted if there are cheese allergies)

Lots of ground pepper

4 tsp of salt

Before you move on, get two large sheet pans greased with some olive oil and turn the oven on high.

Also, get a small frying pan and leave it on the stove top (warming) with a little olive oil.

Now, here is the yucky part. Put it all in a bowl and mix with your bare hands. Raw meat, raw eggs, milk, breadcrumbs...............you have to really love food to get into this part. I hate raw meat and all the raw eggs etc. but this is the best way to truly 'make' these meatballs. You need to mix this up like a bread dough. Making sure it is completely mixed all the way through.

Before you start making the meatballs, take a small amount of the meat/mix and fry it in that small pan you have waiting. As soon as it is cooked, assume because all the kids were eagerly waiting to eat it and did so without worrying that they might burn their mouths that it is perfect the way it is, taste it for seasoning and adjust to suit yourself. 

Now, make into a nice size meatball (not the little ones) and place on the (already prepared) sheet pans. Cook in the oven for twenty minutes or (my personal favourite when I ask the Chef a million time's if there are done yet) 'until they are done'.  

HOW WOULD I KNOW WHEN THEY ARE DONE???

SO, before I get into the PASTA part of the meal, find the largest pot you own and fill it 3/4 of the way with water and put it on to boil. You ALWAYS have to add SALT to the water. The water should taste like the ocean. DO not use low sodium salt here (unless of course your doctor has advised you to stick to a low sodium diet). As a matter of fact, whilst I am on the subject, if you own low-sodium salt, throw it away. It has a terrible taste. Go buy some Maldon Sea Salt (large flakes) and some plain old Saxa table salt. 

OK, where was I. Oh yes, the first thing you need to know is 'I do not like pasta'. The only time I eat pasta is when the resident Chef cooks it. I also HATE cooking pasta, because in this house, if pasta overcooks, then pasta is thrown out, and we have to start all over again. Therefore, I never cook the pasta. If you live in the US, then the pasta you should be buying is La Molissana. Why? Because it is the best. If you live on the other side of the pond where we are, then you should be eating DeCecco. Why? Because it is the best. If you want to make your own pasta from scratch, then do so, but you will get great results from either of the above brands, every time. 

Once the water has come to the boil, dump in two packets of linguine and stir the pasta continuously. Do not stop stirring. Never (ever) break the pasta. That is just wrong, and the Italians never do it. If you have been breaking your pasta all along, because it will not fit in the pot, then go out and buy a bigger pot. The linguine will only take 9 minutes to cook. Get a large strainer set up in your sink and once it is done (taste it - do you like the texture? Al dente is best) strain the pasta and set it aside for a few minutes. NEVER EVER rinse it with water. 

Now, those yummy meatballs are cooked (and hopefully you did not let them burn). In another large pot, pour in your tomato sauce and all your meatballs. Allow to come to the boil then simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour (or longer if you are waiting for your BFF to arrive with the wine). 

The longer the meatballs simmer, the softer and fluffier and lighter they become. Just make sure you have the pot on a low simmer and do not burn the sauce/meatballs. You will notice a lot of the excess oil floating to the top. Ladle it off and keep it. This is your infused olive oil. You can use it tomorrow for making the same kind of sauce again for lasagne! Waste not want not!

Last but not least, dig out a loaf of stale bread (I know you all have one) and make some garlic butter (several cloves of raw garlic chopped, with chopped raw parsley) whilst you are waiting. Butter the bread throw it in the oven for a few minutes. 

Dump your Linguine back into that pot you cooked it in. Spoon out all the meatballs into a nice large serving bowl, and pour all the sauce over your pasta and mix it nicely. Then place a nice large serving bowl on the table filled with your pasta, and the other bowl with the meatballs. There should be enough to feed a small starving army. Grate some parmesan cheese over the pasta for a final blast of flavour. Again, here, I will have to insist that you only use the real deal - Parmigiano Reggianno. Do not use the schwag. Remember - Garbage in, Garbage out.

Get the kids to set the table, compliment your husband on the fine job he did making dinner, drink every last drop of the yummy wine your BFF brought to share and be everlastingly thankful for cousins and friends that sweep the floor and do the dishes before they all roll out the door, happy to have had such a yummy start to their weekends.

Life is miserable for so many people in the world today. Everyone is worried about the 'state of the economy' and the doom and gloom that the next budget will bring. 

It is so important to reflect on the fact that we are healthy, we have a roof over our heads and we can enjoy a lovely meal on a Friday night with our friends and family. What more can a girl ask for.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

All for the love of Cheese....and eggs and pastry and salad and Wine.

Click on the cheese to read the story on 'Free Government Cheese' in Ireland.

There is a rumor going around the island that there will be free cheese for Christmas. This government-giveaway is designed to help the needy get through the hardship of Christmas by offering them a few blocks of cheese. I hate to sound even a trite sarcastic (because I love cheese) but how in the heck is a block of Calvita going to provide sustenance to a family in 'need' at Christmas. 

Click on image to read all about 'Lough Boora Organic Farm' 

Since growing and gardening season is winding down and a lot more time is spent indoors by the fire toasting our toes, the Chef has recently enrolled in a 'box scheme' at work. A nice farmer from Lough Boora Organic Farm drops off a basket every Friday (€20) brimming to the edges with a selection of what ever fruit and veg is in season right now. This week we received some nice big fat leeks, so the begging for one of my favorites 'Quiche Lorraine' began. Keep in mind that my handsome Chef never gives me what I ask for, but usually takes the idea and makes it better. So, I have learned to suffer in silence. It is what you do.

If you are going to attempt this dish (I am posting the recipe below) then either run to the nearest grocery shop and buy the ready made pastry crust OR you can try to whip up the one the Chef threw together, which made a very nice flaky crust. 

WhatchaNeed:

3 cups of flour

4 ounces of LARD (cookeen/crisco)

1/2 cup of water

Pinch of salt.

HoTaMakeIt:

Mix the flour and the lard with your fingertips until it is all nice and lump free. 

Add in the pinch of salt then slowly pour in the water and mix until you form a nice ball of pastry dough. 

Take note, do NOT over work the dough by kneading it over and over again. 

It makes the dough tough. 

Now, put the dough in the fridge for 1/2 an hour to let it chill. This is very important. 

After it has chilled, take it out and roll to your preferred thickness for your (greased) casserole dish. 

This recipe makes a decent amount of pastry so just wrap up the remaining pastry and pop it in the freezer. This way you have no excuse to not be able to make a quick tart/pie when someone comes to visit........

Now for the custardy quiche mixture. This is a family size recipe - feeds a family of four kids and two adults and the occasional extra mouth at the table.

WhatchaNeed:

6 large eggs. (Splurge and get some local organic ones. The yolks are very orange in colour and it will tast better!)
1 1/4 litres of full milk.
12 ounces of grated cheese. (Cheddar/Gruyere works best, but go with what you like.)
2 Leeks, washed and cut into circles. (Keep in mind that there can be a lot of sand in leeks, so wash well)
1 1/2 pounds of bacon cut up into small pieces. (For the Irish: Use smoked Rashers - not a lump of boiling bacon)
Freshly ground black pepper.
* Note  * we are not including salt in this recipe because the bacon is salty enough.

HowTaMakeIt:
First - pre-heat your oven to 220 celsius.
Fry the bacon and freshly ground black pepper and once it is nice and crispy add in the leeks.  Allow them to cook until soft and translucent. Once finished, drain off the fat. You can keep this fat in the fridge for several weeks and use it for cooking. Remember 'Fat is the train upon which flavor rides' ...

Now, with a balloon whisk mix the milk and eggs together in a bowl making a nice custardy mix.
Take your casserole dish with the all-ready-to-go pastry crust and throw in the leeks/bacon mixture, the grated cheese and then pour the custardy mix on top and you are ready to go.

In the heated oven, place the quiche on the middle rack and leave alone for twenty minutes. Then reduce the heat to 150 celsius and leave for another twenty minutes. Shake the casserole dish and if it still jiggles in the middle, it is not done.

BUT, you can turn the oven off and leave it 'still cooking' for another 15 minutes.

It will not burn. Do not keep opening the door of the oven to check. (or so I was told - a few times).

Click here if you would just rather pop over for dinner and get the Chef to make it for you ;0)

If you follow along and adhere to the rules, then you end up with the picture above here. A yummy custardy quiche, served with a simple end-of-summer salad and a fab. bottle of chilled white wine. If you are like me, and cannot follow a recipe to save your life, then either A). Marry a chef or B). Give the recipe to one of your great 'baking' friends and have them make it for you and then invite you over to try it for supper some evening. Either way, it is to die for.

Those are all the WiseWords I have this morning,

WiseMóna

There are many ways to skin a cat

Can you just imagine the mother that named her child Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. I mean imagine shouting that from the top of the stairs when you are trying to get your child to pick up his dirty socks? Well, the lovely Mr. Wilde has been in bed with me for a few weeks now and I have to say I am glad to let him go this afternoon, as I wrap up a couple of huge assignments and send them on their merry way to the eager grading hands that await them.

This is what I have been staring at for the last few days. Blank pages of nothingness. Having to sit down and write two academic essays back to back, both due on the same day at the same time - well it is just madness.
The level of reading and interpreting and then writing and re-writing that has to occur before you get anywhere near what you actually (and finally) submit, are worlds apart. AND I did not even mention all the time that has to be spent complaining, procrastinating and fecking around on Facebook.
My English Literature classes this year revolve around 'Literature and The Renaissance' and 'Critical Theory and Practice'. Kill - Me - Now. Yes, I chose these classes. I picked the best of a very archaic lot. 


So where does all my Creative Writing get squeezed in to this year? Well, it is a struggle. We have just completed our first 'Poetry' session for Semester 1 and are hurtling right into the second half with a new Irish-Canadian poet named Celeste Augé. I am excited and a little terrified about the end result of a poetry semester. Don't get me wrong, I love to linger on the lines a little longer than most people, but know that making a living as a poet in Ireland is just not practical - therefore, I doodle, and I draw and I do not 'work like my life depends on it'. 

I have hit the mid-semester slump. It has just dawned on me that I have only 6 weeks of class left before the dreaded Christmas exams. Then only 12 weeks of class after Christmas. The academic year is slipping out of my hands and I still feel like I have just started back to college this week. I cannot get my groove on. I cannot buckle down and get stuck in. I am obsessed with the pile of laundry that gets bigger and bigger each week. Not so obsessed with 'doing the laundry' mind, just obsessed. I am frustrated that the kids still have not gotten themselves organized enough in the mornings to just get up, get dressed, eat breakfast and go to school without spilling something all over them selves, losing a shoe, or forgetting a lunchbox. 

I am overwhelmed at what it is to be a thirtysomething-mother-of-four going to college full time doing something that I love to do. Overwhelmed is a feeling I seem to be able to live with. 

I have learned to say:

when I know that I have too much on my plate. I have learned to NOT answer my phone when I am in the middle of doing my homework. I have learned to close FACEBOOK and not check into it five thousand times when I have deadlines looming. OK, maybe I do not actually shut FaceBook down completely - I mean, the rest of the world might not fully survive without my checking in for God's sake. Anyway, I am setting up these walls and boundaries all around me because something big is happening. Something great. Something rewarding. Something that is going to be an enormous challenge, an incredible experience, and someday, something really pretty to look at. 

Going back to school Going to University for the first time as as an adult is a very rewarding experience. I feel (on an almost daily basis) that the world is filled with possibilities and all we have to do is work hard to get what we want out of life. For those of you that are already "following" my blog, THANK YOU, I am humbled. For those of you that are silently stalking - stay tuned, and for those of you that just pop in occasionally and leave me random comments and funny messages - keep 'em coming! 

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

Letting go of Bunny-Love n' summer

My lovely white duck Grace delivers me 

a beautiful blue duck egg every morning.

Well, it is finally here. I have come to the end of a four month long hiatus from University life and 'Móna-Mom and Móna-Wife' have officially left the homestead and 'Móna-Student' (aka mean raving bitch) has returned to roost in the Wise Homestead for the next eight months.

Try as I might I just could not get all four kids 'clothed and booked' for back-to-school blissfully. I had to get all worked up in a dither, run around at the last minute looking for books they will not use until November and buy a few extra shirts and ties for their uniforms just in-case they lost one. I am a martyr. I needed to put myself through all of this and make it seem like I was dying from stress so my Mother (hi Mum) and hubby (ha ha - like he will ever read something on the internet) would feel a little empathy towards me before I leave them to care for my children for what seems like an eternity.

I know I am not LEAVING per-se, but on September 6th when I return to the books I do step away from being the primary caregiver of everyone here at the homestead. The Chef has already stressed the *dislike* button a few times over the last few weeks because, quite frankly, he likes having a wife at home doing all the wifey jobs. And whilst we are all being frank, I LIKE being the wifey at home doing all the jobs.

He also knows that I live and die for my college classes.  I am entering into second year of a four year degree course, with hopes to continue and get my Masters in Writing write after that, so it might seem a little endless this schedule of mine. 

He is ready, with the helping hands and heart of my Mum, to take on the kids. He is waiting in the wings as we speak to get stuck in with drop off's and pick ups and school bags and lunch boxes and most importantly (for me anyway) dinner and grocery shopping. I have done most of the cooking for the summer and although I do not hate cooking at all, I will be glad that I do not have to do anything but the dishes for the next several months. 

On a sadder note (and I am trying to not let this get the better of me) we lost our little Bunny Bob last night. When I say 'lost' I do not mean he went missing, I mean he is dead.

He is a bit of an escape artist and being a dwarf bunny with seemingly very few bones he was able to dig and squeeze through unbelievably small openings. He also chewed like a trooper to get through whatever he wanted. After reinforcing (and reinforcing) his little home area several times over the last few months we lost the battle last night. When I awoke this morning I found his cold little body out back near the polytunnel. He was unmarked, so no foul play is suspected.

Of course breaking news like this to veterinarian-girl-in-waiting was not easy as she is rather attached to all our animals, and I hated that this was the news I had to give her a few days before school. However, she handled it as well as can be expected. Remains will be buried along side his brother Leo (who passed away the day we brought him home) later today. Donations of hugs can be delivered to Rory-Belle if you can figure out a way to do that via the internet.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this morning as we brace ourselves for the back-to-school mayhem that awaits us on Monday!

WiseMóna

The Weekend got off to a bad start

I normally don't mince words when telling it how it is, and I reckon this posting will be no different. I think that panic has set in over the lack of 'time' that I have left before we all go back to school. If it is not self-induced panic, then I have no relevant reasons to explain my bitchiness.  The weekend actually got off to a lovely start. We went over to a friends house to celebrate a birthday and had a very relaxing, fun-filled evening. Enjoying the late summer sun whilst sipping Sam Adams on the patio. Rumour has it we may have sipped a little too much Sam. I flopped into bed later that night thrilled that  I had NO PLANS made for the early morning and could take a well deserved lie-in. (NOTE: I am a morning person, but like to linger a little longer in la-la land if the opportunity presents itself).

Saturday morning arrived just a little too soon (at 5:38am) with the Chef leaping like a lord out of bed and racing to the window saying 'I hear voices'. Kill me now God, because I am about to commit a murder. Those were the thoughts that went through my mind. Needless to say I could not go back to sleep because there was a party going on in the nearby countryside and by the time they all went to their beds it was well past breakfast time in the Wise Household.

I made a conscious effort to steer clear of the Chef for the best part of the day, until we dropped of the kids to another birthday party and we had three hours to ourselves. I made it clear that Sunday morning would be different. Let there be no mistake. Sunday morning rolled in a little later and although he still WOKE ME rather early, he did slink of sulkily downstairs with Jack to make coffee and feed the fowl. I took the chance to get caught up fucking around on facebook checking my overflowing inbox of mostly spam very important emails and just as I decided to organise some summer photos for an upcoming blog I was working on, the children came racing up the stairs announcing that we were headed to the beach for the day. Him BEING A MAN would never have had the forethought to perhaps DISCUSS this with me in advance because he probably thinks that all bathing suits and towels are left loftily in the right place just waiting for the perfect 'SwimDay' to pop up. I take that back - HE DID NOT THINK AT ALL!

Ripped from my 'nice lazy Sunday' I had to dress and pack all four crumbcatchers and orchestrate the tending to the fowls dietary needs (and water because it was a hot one!) AND organise a packed lunch IN A HURRY BECAUSE WE HAD TO GET ON THE ROAD IN ORDER TO BEAT THE TRAFFIC.

We had a great day at the beach. We drove out to Ballyconeely in Conamara. Lovely private white sandy beaches. No traffic, no trash. Just bliss. As we drove home and I had decided to speak to my husband again (the man that is constantly wanting to do stuff to enrich ALL of our lives but mostly the experiences he can give the children building a plethora of amazing childhood memories for them) the talk turned to dinner. He had brought home a hefty piece of beautiful Pork Chop on the bone. Although it would take a while to cook, he had plans to make a tasty treat for the table - yet again.

We have not had to buy any vegetables since April so a quick spin around the garden gave us our veggies for the evening. In the back of my mind I starting to bitch worry about how it would all turn out, because the Chef is not a huge fan of the way Irish meat is butchered. In his opinion it is all done incorrectly. He feels that the meat is cut waaaaaay to thinly and by the time you are done cooking it is looks like it has been stomped on and all the lovely juices have been squeezed right out of it leaving you with a dried up piece of old shoe leather.

Case-in-point

Because of this, he is very fussy about 'where' he gets his meat from and 'who' has touched it. Obviously the lads at Morton's of Galway (where he works) have come to terms with his fussiness and now know how to win him over when flogging a piece of weekend roast. 

I spent a few minutes unloading all the sand and seaside baggage from our family day of fun and had just enough time to crack open a lovely bottle of Mesta Rosado before he presented this lovely hunk of meat for our dining pleasure.

It was a lovely weekend. All sins are forgiven and we are all bracing ourselves for the back-to-school mayhem that lies ahead.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this rainy August evening,

WiseMóna

Marbles Lost

Well, it is official folks. I might have just lost my marbles. For the last three weeks the house has been taken over by girls. Three little Polish girls and two little Galway girls. Girls, Girls, Girls. Of course Jack and Ron are here too, but only a little blip on the radar.

The three little Polish girls that have come to stay with us for the month of June go back to their full-time foster family next week but before they do, we have arranged a visit with their little brother who is only ten months old. Seven kids under one roof should be enough. Throwing a toddler into the mix for a few hours is barely noticeable at this stage of the game.

Next week, life will return to normal. Whatever normal is of course. At this point, normal looks like the two little Galway girls will be staying for the rest of summer (at least) and in less than two weeks my Sister and her hubby arrive (from France) with their four children. 

The lessons I have learned over the last three weeks are of great value to me, to my husband, to my friends and to my family. If I drink too much coffee I am a beeatch! So, less caffeine intake has given me a calmer attitude when trying to harang these fiesty females. 

First order of business was to beg one of my friends (Becca from Waterford) to come hang out with us for a few weeks to help. My handsome hubby (and I) decided it would be better if he stayed at work during this stint of craziness so that he could reserve his time to spend with my Sisters family when they come.

Living with a lot of little ladies (ages 4 to 9) we have come to the conclusion that 'we are all the same'. Although they all come from very very different backgrounds they obsess over the exact same things:

1. Clothes
2. Shoes
3. Boys
4. Hair 

Thankfully, the weather has been so warm and sunny that bathing suits, shorts and towels are the most used outfits. 

A 'we share everything 'cept underwear ' policy was instituted and accepted early on in the game (thanks to my little Rory-Belle) and that made getting dressed each day a hell of a lot easier.

The food side of things has gone swimmingly and I hope to report in more detail on this as soon as I get a few minutes to 'menu' blog. 

Peer pressure reared its ugly head in a positive manner and in a way it is comforting to see that 'monkey see, monkey do' when it comes to eating salad and veggies. However, as much as we were all thrilled to see how successful this was I cautioned the chef by fast forwarding him to five years from now when one of them brings home a pack of Marlboro Lights and offers a cigarette to the gaggle of girls. .......... be still my thumping heart and just enjoy them while they are young and less hormonally charged.

There is nothing easy about taking  a plethora of additional children into your home and life be it short term or longterm. Rules and routines that you might have instituted for your own children have to be taught and enforced in order to keep things running smoothly. But what I have learned is that kids need other kids. Even when they have been at their meanest (and believe me 'spitting venom' does not come close to describing it) they still have made an incredible bond that very likely will last a lifetime.

Remember to check your judgmental attitude at the door and realize that they are just 'kids' is all that is important. 

Now, back to the searching for all those missing marbles.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this (already very hot) Father's Day morning!

WiseMóna

Black Magic Birthday Cake for Breakfast

Just shy of seven years ago, we finished the final scrap of paperwork to adopt a baby whilst living in America. It took six months of paperwork, 12 weeks of 'adoption classes' and an untold amount of hours spent answering all the questions the social workers had for us. They delved deep into our relationship and gave us good reason to feel many twangs of jealousy to all those Mum's and Dad's out there that can just pop one out!

On June 17th, 2003 I met with the social workers for one last 'signing' and handed over the last piece of paperwork. The standard wait time for local or foreign adoption in America (at the time) was three to five years. This seemed like a life-time of course, but fit nicely into our life-planning as we were in the throes of stripping wall paper and knocking walls in an old building we had purchased earlier that year and were planning on opening our first Restaurant 'Rondo's' later that year. 

Seven years later (ironically) we have seven children in our care. If you look closely you will count nine, but thankfully two of the above were just tagging along for a picnic. 

The same day we finalised all that paperwork we decided to tell our bosses about our 'family plans' and the local newspaper leaked a story about a local chef planning to open up a new restaurant in the Autumn.

We got a phone call on from our social worker that afternoon letting us know there was a little baby girl just five days old and the birth-mother wanted to meet us in person because we seemed like the 'right couple'. I stuck to my 5 year plan and let her know that the restaurant was opening in a few months and it takes 3 years to get a business 'up and running' so we would pass. 

What I did not know at the time is that the Chef had received a similar phone call and had told the social workers we would 'take her' and the rest my dear readers is 'HIStory'.................

Ron lost his job the following week (due to the fact that the media were focusing a lot of coverage/free advertising on our new restaurant and not the one he had been working at)  and within a month we had a little bundle sleeping in a bassinet by the bed. Again, I was stressed over not having at least 'nine months' to get ready for this little surprise. 

So that year we had 'Twins'. He got the restaurant and I got the girl. Of course (as many of your know) we had it all. Including the nursery built into the restaurant and a Granny with eager wings flitting back and forth from Ireland to help ease us into the world of 'child rearing'. 

Although our first-born and the first grandchild (on my side) she has been jolted of her post by two older girls entering into the picture this summer. Fear not, she still rules her roost. Rory is very much the apple of her Daddy's eye and most likely will end up being a vet someday because of her love for animals. I would say she could end up being an animal rights activist too except for the fact that she loves to eat meat! In saying that, she is a bit of a food snob too and can identify most of the ingredients in just about everything the Chef prepares!

Her request for the same birthday cake (every-year) might sound a little boring to many, but to a few of you out there, it sounds only divine. For many years (more than he would ever admit to) the Chef has been making and baking 'Black Magic'. A rich dark chocolate batter cake. The cake soaked in espresso, then chocolate whipped cream in the middle and a smothering of warm chocolate ganache to finish it off. He strayed from the tried and tested version for his girl and stuck on 'PINK Smarties' to jazz it up. Not a crumb left on the plate!

The thing we have noticed the most about our little Rory Belle is that she is growing up fast. She is mad into music and was the happy recipient of a teeny tiny MP3 player that fit snugly into her new iDog. Now, she really is 'TopDog' in the Wanderly-Wise-Wagon when we go on road trips and thankfully we can barely hear the commotion in the back as the Disney tunes and lady Gaga songs are shared with the other rebel rouser's.

These summer months have given us so much to be thankful for. I do not think the Chef and I ever thought we could fill our home with such happy squeals. With a friend of mine from College (Becca) here to help us through a crazy month of kiddies, we have almost reached capacity at the Wise homestead, but for anyone out there thinking about coming to visit, we still have a very comfy pull out couch that has not seen the light of day!

Those are all the WiseWords I have this morning, as we head of to Connemara to a Slow Food Fish BBQ on the beach!

WiseMóna

Early Summer Sun

Fluid foggy clouds rolled by,

my window this early morn.

Smothered sun was dense and thick,

and the rooster, a new day did warn.

Cool and dampness slowly drifted,

blazing bright blue skies.

April sunshine bestows its heat,

Dear Ireland, heaves happy sighs.

I may have more to say later!

WiseMóna

Wanna lick of that?

I do not like chocolate. To be honest, I do not like most things that are 'sweet'. That has not, however, stopped my husband from trying to convert me to the dark side, for almost fifteen years now. Growing up, Easter was filled with mostly church-going business and the popular Cadburys Creme Egg. I actually hate those eggs. Nothing worse than tasting something so artificially created.


Thankfully, the kids have developed strange (but good) tastes for the sweeter side of life. As soon as Rory could walk, she used to sneak down to the (restaurant) kitchen and help herself to 'breffuzz'.


Her 'breffuzz' consisted of a nice big slab of Ron's bread pudding ladled with homemade caramel sauce or black magic dark chocolate cake smothered with chocolate fudge sauce. Control freak that I am, one would think that I would have 'padlocked the fridge' but I figured it was all homemade good-stuff, made by her Daddy, so it could not be too bad for her. 

What I did not know is that I was enabling a chocolate monster. And although not genetically bound, she sooooooo takes after her Daddy.

You see, my handsome Chef is a confirmed chocaholic. We can call him a chocolate snob actually. He will not compromise and use shwag chocolate when he is creating a devine desert. When we lived in America he used a French chocolate called Valrhona. He used it for 25 years. When we moved closer to the source he started using another French chocolate called Callebaut. Apparently the French know what they are doing when it comes to Chocolate, wine and cheese!

So, what do you get a Chef for Easter when you know you are dealing with a chocolate snob?? 

Easy peasy lemon squeasy...

That's right folks, he loves Snickers! But this little egg, my dear readers is no ordinary egg. This, has a complete snickers filling. Filled with nuts and caramel, this little egg (not easy to source) makes for one very happy Chef!

The kids are normal (thank God) when it comes to eating everything in sight, but have no love for the Easter Egg. They get excited about dyeing hard boiled eggs, hiding them, having an Easter egg hunt and then eating the eggs. At least there is no waste :-) These eggs below were dyed using red onion peelings. 

This year, after a little inspiration from one of my friends at University (Becca), I decided to source a few 'oldies but goodies' for their Easter baskets. When we were young (4 million years ago) and because we grew up in the country (ironically less than 5 miles from the metropolis of Galway) we had the luxury of 'The Traveling Shop'. There were actually two traveling shops that came to our little village. One came on Tuesday evenings and the other came on Fridays at 12 noon. We were never home on Fridays at 12 noon due to school, but during the summer months we would time our internal clocks to the hum of the engine in that little red van. 

Glass jars of sweets was really what these traveling shops were pushing under the guise of 'fresh eggs', 'durty carrots' and 'warm milk from the neighbours cow'. (all true and real by the way). The shop van would borrow from Peter to pay Paul in a sense that if someone in the village had a few dozen eggs to sell, they could barter their way through the goodies in the traveling shop without a penny ever exchanging hands. (Back up a little, I may have exagerated when I said this was 4 million years ago - it was more like 20 yrs). What a great way to foster a sense of community and talk about knowing how many food miles your food has traveled!

We were never allowed buy too much crap. Strict mother blah blah blah. In a way, I am the same kind of mother. Everything in moderation etc. etc.

But occasionally and I suppose in a moment of weakness she would let us 

'buy at will' and of course the choices we made were never healthy.

All fun and fizz using artificial colours, flavours and sweeteners................

Yucky yellow toffee-like sticky goo with lemon flavouring. 

Excuse me while I vomit - right. 

No, even I could go for one of these yellow chews this Easters eve!

The guilt would overtake us and we would cave to buying a few niceties for the mothership in the hopes that she would cave again soon and allow us those extra few pennies for junk sweeties.

So, after a very very long time of procrastinating over how much I do not like Chocolate, clever clogs Chef has found something that has finally tickled my fancy and lured to the dark side. 

Enter Green & Blacks Organic Chocolate (http://www.greenandblacks.com/uk/home.html).

It's all good folks, fair-trade chocolate. All dark and yummy. In case you missed the newsflash more studies are being done on chocolate’s positive health benefits, especially for the old ticker! The latest study released shows that even small amounts are great for overall heart health and reduces the risk of heart attacks and strokes. Chocolate, especially very dark chocolate, reduces blood pressure, increases elasticity of blood vessels and may reduce inflammation. So, not only has he convinced me to start eating (this yummy) chocolate, it appears there are added health benefits! 

Everything in moderation folks! Do you need any further excuses? 

I hope your Easter was fruitful and you are relaxing in front of a warm fire toasting your toes! 

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this evening! 

WiseMóna