Fortune

I was not particularly in favor of Steve's kitchen remodel. My position was that we had a perfectly nice kitchen already and ripping it apart sounded like a big hassle. Steve's response to my reasoned objections was to shout, "What?! I can't hear you! I am ripping the kitchen apart!" He is funny like that.

Now that it is finished, however, my initial ambivalence has been replaced with an unhealthy passion. I love the new kitchen. I love it I love it I love it. It would not be completely misplaced to say that I have become the kitchen's bitch. I used my shirt to mop up a red wine spill the other day because the granite guys had warned me of the perils of acidic liquids on stone and the drawer full of kitchen towels was three whole feet away. I have contemplated buying those weird little fingerpad covers that the French use to prevent leaving prints on steel. I spent four hours arranging cookbooks on my new midget cookbook shelves, which are all of two feet wide and two feet high. And the range... the range! The range that I patted absently in the store while Steve kicked its tires is now an honored member of the family. It is the son I never had. Right in the middle of roasting a chicken last week, I kid you not, I used a good tea towel to wipe grease splatters off the inside glass of the oven door. I have considered putting bowls of flowers in there to complement its pretty cobalt interior. I have apologized repeatedly to the burners for my lack of commercial cookware, which seems so disrespectful.

So you can imagine my consternation on Saturday night when I set the damned thing on fire.

Yes, Saturday. The night of my big party. The party over which I was already wound tighter than a spool of thread. Ten minutes before our guests were due to arrive I started a blaze in the oven that would have made any arsonist proud. There was smoke. There were flames. There was an overpowering acrid stench. "Fire! Fire! Fire!" I squealed like an idiot. Like the sort of idiot who would put a sheet of....

So you know phyllo dough? Have you ever worked with it? Basically you get these thin wafers of dough and saturate them with about 6 cups of melted butter until they are pliable, at which point you can stuff them (perhaps with feta and spinach and mint and olives) and fold them. You then brush them with another six cups of melted butter and bake 'em. Or freeze them, I suppose, but I baked them. Right on a cookie sheet. A rimless cookie sheet. And do you know what happened? All that melted butter that had hardened on the phyllo melted again and started to pour off the sides of the cookie sheet like a waterfall, only to pool on the pretty blue bottom of my beloved new oven. Where it first burnt, then smoked, and finally, cheerfully, ignited. A devil's lake of flaming butter.

Damn it.

It is a pity that the only thing Steve has not yet done in the kitchen is hook up the range hood. So the only thing we could think to do to get the smoke alarm to stop going off was open all the windows in the house. And since it was ten degrees outside this ushered in a whole new set of problems, mostly the risk of hypothermia. Such that the first guests to arrive at my house on Saturday were simultaneously kippered and frozen, an unusual combination and hardly hospitable.

I greeted everyone: "Sorry about the chill. Sorry about the smell. I was stupid. There was a fire. Drink?" while Steve helpfully offered to take coats but added "Of course, you might want to keep it on... just in case." Whether he meant just in case they were cold or just in case I set another fire he never specified.

That was my party. Needless to say it got better from there because, well, it would have had to have done, wouldn't it?

Patrick is driving me absolutely fucking crazy but I cannot even write about it right now. I get tense just thinking about him. We had preschool conferences yesterday and you would think that one of the advantages to having a bright kid would be that school conferences would be mostly pleasant but ohhhhhhh nooooooo. His teacher has concluded that Patrick is going through his Terrible Twos, fashionably late. My mother consoled me by pointing out that the flip side to Quirky is Quirky, meaning that the same mind that delights me with its breadth and humor is going to pummel me with its unwillingness to ever. just. be. normal. and. do. normal. and I suppose she is correct. However....

of the three self-portraits Patrick was asked to draw in the past three months (as part of the classroom assessment) one was from the day after Halloween, featuring a letter A with hands face and feet, neatly labeled "Patrick" with the note: In My Costum; and one was four odd clumps that resembled broccoli underneath an elaborately printed number 1216. When I showed Patrick that one and asked what it was he laughed, "Oh, that is a picture of me!" Pause. "A SILLY one! Ho ho ho ho..."

And when I said I liked it and it was nice, but his teacher had asked him to draw a little boy and he needed to be a better listener and follow directions he just looked at me. Like, yeah, whatever. And then he looked at the clump picture and started laughing again.

He never just does what he is asked to do. Never.

His teacher said that if she had just met him this year she would believe he was simply naughty, but knowing him as she does she thinks that he is having a spurt of social development that is late but necessary. Like a toddler rebellion stage. At four and a half.

I could go on and on but, like I said, it is making me tense just thinking about it. We had a hostage situation over taking off his own stupid shoes this afternoon that lasted half an hour. Argh. Gargh. Blech. Stupid stubborn kid.

Nothing new in the frozen cycle. Delestrogen is making me amorous, so much so that I am wondering if I can just stay on it forever. I go for a follow-up ultrasound and bloodwork one week from tomorrow and provided that looks good (and I assume it will) I will go to DC that weekend. I have never been more certain of anything than I am that this embryo will defrost and die but, like I said, we needed to deal with the frozen one some time or other and I am looking forward to seeing my mother and every experience is a part of life's rich tapestry, no?

Hope you are well.    

Comments

[Lisa]

This cracks me up, we have the same appliances. We have the 60? inch Wolf, dual fuel, 6 burner with the grill and griddle (hello, LOVE THE GRIDDLE. Divine grilled cheese, and the pancakes? To. Die. For.) and the Sub-Zero fridge but in a diff. model. Did you get a warming drawer? Love it! Proofs bread fantastically. We also have yet to get our range hood up, stupid contractors.

Please post pictures soon!

[Alice]

Good luck at any rate on the frozen one. I know in order to keep your sanity you must remain pessimistic . . . so that leaves the rest of us to be filled with cautious optimism for you and yours.

[Kristin]

Hey! That post could have been written about my life! I'm a fellow Minnesotan, I am really good at handling disasters (that I also frequently create), and I'm dealing with the terrible twos (with my three year old). Your new kitchen sounds wonderful! I'd love to check it out...When's your next party? ;) I make a mean mojito!

[kate]

Oh the terrible twos are something to behold in 4 year old boys. Please tell us your stories when you are up to it so I can feel I am not alone.

[jill]

Is Patrick having a growth spurt -- there's a big one that happens at around 4 and a half. If so, that could account for the behavior cause it hurts to grow. It made all of my three boys pretty gnarly at that age.

Or, as someone very wise once told me, the 4s are a glimpse of what your child will be like as a teenage. If so, you're in deep shit...

[owlhaven]

The first time I used my oven, I stupidly ran an errand and baked 15 potatoes, oh, like an hour too long. Did you know that under those circumstances even potatoes that you've poked with a fork WILL explode?
Yup.
Potato chunks all over my lovely new oven. Thankfully only 3 or 4 of them exploded.

Nevertheless I was very sad.

Mary, sometimes shockingly airheaded

[Sandy]

I once was baking a pound cake, from scratch mind you, and as I was waiting for it to bake, I heard an extremely loud POP. I went to investigate and opened the oven door and the damn cake EXPLODED all out of the oven and all over the floor, the wall, everywhere...and after that was the fire, oh brother was there a fire. So needless to say, I've never tried to bake another pound cake, I just buy the damn things from the store.

[Annie]

Oh Lordy! My oh my. Puh-leeeze do not make me laugh so damned hard when I am great with child! All I can say is, ouch! And ... that you are blessed with a tremendous sense of humor to make light of setting your beloved second son on fire like that.

Um, is the "tyke" going to make it? Did you fry the wiring or just make an unholy mess? Hope "he" is okay! (Or at least still under warranty.)

[Sally]

I JUST did that!! The other day a friend gave me a snail (a what?). One of those pie crusts with cinnamon/sugar/butter (12 cups as well) mixture spread on it and then rolled up and baked into a spiral of wishes and dreams. I daintily tasted it, then shoved the whole thing in my mouth and swallowed it like a tylenol.
More. I must have more. And then I remembered HEY, I have a pie crust! In the fridge! And butter! And a baking stone because I've heard bakery people cook things on them. Oh, here it is! The one with no sides! How fancy and frivolous - this no-sided contraption! I wonder what temperature to bake this at - ok I'll start low - 400 and work up if I need to...

After the fire, I ate the snail which was again, magnigicent. I left the oven as is because it's from 1981. I call the recipe - The $1000 Snail.

Patrick is a snail. He's a delicious sweet decadent treat that is also highly flammable. And probably better with coffee.

[Jujubee]

Oooh, do you have pictures of this new kitchen?

[Anna]

Got to love P :). A bright kid is a gift forever. You know our bright kid is still considered a "luxury problem" in school? He is 9, but gets his "terrible two's" on Mondays and Thursdays from 5.30 pm till 7 pm, in his music lessons...

[WG]

I totally relate to the kitchen lust. I moved halfway across the country for my kitchen. I love it so much that I actually keep it clean. If you saw the rest of my life, you would understand the magnitude of that sacrifice.

[ls]

I, too, want to see pictures. As for Patrick, I think the whole assignment was kind of asinine. Why should he have to draw anything he doesn't want to at his age? His ability to draw not draw a recognizable "boy" doesn't MEAN anything. Not now, not in 10 years. Find a school that lets him be himself (Waldorf/Montessori) and stops making demands on a child that I think is smart enough to see through it and rebel.

[bec 36]

I must de-lurk to say that everyone I know with children older than mine (that is to say, kids that are four or were four in the past) complain MUCH more about four than they ever did about two. Ethan is about 3.8, so I am scared. Tell Patrick the Internet says he needs to be nice to you!

bec :D

[Jill]

Both my kids were much harder at four than two. And the oldest was an easy teenager, so don't let that scare you. The youngest has several years before we get there, so I can't tell you if we know what we are doing, or just got lucky.

[Chickenpig]

I'm surprised that the teacher would tell you that Patrick is going through delayed terrible twos, when every preschool teacher knows that four year olds of every stripe are little stinkers, and Patrick being Patrick will only be more so. They are stubborn little know-it-alls, those four year olds. If it makes you feel any better, girls are much worse. Not only are they stubborn little know it alls, but they are also prissy, bossy, and often mean to other girls...a prelude to the pre teen years.

Sorry about your oven. I bet your party was still smashing regardless.

[sozzled]

We called them the "fucking fours" much worse than the terrible twos. I am so sorry to have laughed at your oven fire, but you know no matter how many times I've entertained something always goes wrong right around the time people are due to arrive. Drinking lots tends to make guests not mind one little bit. (and I always make my phyllo triangles way in advance, they freeze like a dream and free up all that time preparty to be drinking.)

[Nancy]

But that IS an accurate self-portrait! Sheesh! The kid is a letter-o-holic, and that's what he drew. That's HIM! Would a circle with stick limbs be more accurate? If you look at his picture, and scan the class, who is it a picture of? Can you say that consistently of the other kid's pics?

[Ersza]

We had a tough time at 4, too. It is a very difficult age. The teacher should not have made you feel like he is the only one who goes through such a difficult stage at that age. Rebellion is *very* characteristic of four year olds, even more so than two year olds. When my son was four, there was a fight every day at preschool dismissal over whether he could take home a stick he had picked up on the playground. For some reason, the teacher absolutely forbade it, so I had to back her up, but the stick was his best friend and the only thing he cared about in life, and there was crying and it was bad. It passes.

[Rosie]

Yeah. 4s suck.
suck
suck
suck
suck
suck
suck

Hang in there.
R

[Sarah]

FYI Fours are often harder than twos. It isn't actully the emergence of will like it is with two year olds, it is more of a last stab at omnipotence. Sadly, your job is to frustrate him--no matter how clever he is, he is still a little kid, a kid who can count in ways that blow one's mind, but a kid nonetheless. Your frustration is a good indication that you are meeting his developmental needs. Sucky compliment eh? I suggest one of those "your four year old" books. They may help you normalize some of this behavior, and sort it from his 'smarts'.
Sarah

[Jenn]

Oh can I say how much I neede this post today. Sam has also been "defined" in similar terms for his intelligence although I don't like to talk about it because it stresses me out -- I picture him being this social reject who can't get a date and wants to do math all day long.

But he is being. SO. BAD! Babyish bad.

Same thing at the preschool interviews this week -- they even said the terrible twos seem to be striking. They have a behaviouralist at the school and they wanted to talk to me about Sam. She said she had six children she was concerned about their behaviour -- 5 because of developmental delays and Sam because he was "brilliant." She said it like it was a horrid disease. She said that kids like that act out in such a different way that it is really hard to manage and that we may want to get some outside help! For my kid who never threw a temper tantrum until he was 3 1/2, and has always been so easy. Now he's the bad-ass, the trouble maker. And he's a snotty troublemaker because he has this air of intellectual superiority about him. I'd love to hear what you are doing to get him through this phase because I have already pulled out half of my hair.

[-Blue]

Oh! I'm so sorry your lovely oven burnt up but, on the flip side, you described it beautifully! it was almost as if i was there. You now how some folks name their property or their house? You should just call yours "Devil's Lake".

As for Patrick, well, he sounds perfectly normal to me. You know my Boy is just a tad older and while sharp, isn't brilliant like P, but if you ask him to draw himself he'll present you will a very accurate dinosaur (complete with the name printed below). If you tell him he was supposed to draw himself he'll shake his head wearily and explain slowly that that IS him. "I'm a Dilophosaurus!"

-Blue

[Pam L]

A devil's lake of flaming butter- love that line-although hopefully I'll never have to use it. I loved the 4's even though I had one like yours. A good kid that managed to get in every kind of trouble possible while in school, one at a time, so I never knew what to expect. Very independent, very stubborn, very creative all rolled into one high maintenance kid. I also have one that feels the need to be very cutting edge. I got a call from his Language Arts teacher last year who was certain he was depressed, then another time that he was evil, and so on. It seems, while doing a long poetry project, he changed the nice innocent poems that he showed me on his powerpoint to mostly dark ones, with questional language. For example, when one poem was to be alliteration his started with "Feces fell freely on Frank..." and it got worse from there. One had his teacher certain he was going to commit suicide.He now has one entry on his "discipline report" on his permanent record for profanity. And this is my EASY child. Next year he starts High School-help!

[Karen]

Julia, in this case Patrick is exactly normal. When my oldest hit 4.5 it was apparent that her father and I had completely failed at parenting because she was a total nightmare. Then I got the book "Your 5 Year Old" by Ilg and Ames and was completely validated when I read that between 4.5 and 5 most children go through an awful defiant stage that just makes the pleasing nature of 5 year olds that much better. Get the book, you'll feel great.

My youngest is now 4.75 and she started with the defiance a bit earlier than her sister, as she has done with all developmental milestones. So we are [mostly] done with the nasty part of the fifth year, thank goodness. It wasn't pretty. Patrick has a whole lot of that in store for you for the next 3-6 months, I promise.

[Nicole]

Oh hurray! I haven't destroyed my son! My oldest has always been Mr. Easygoing, and lately has been rather a snotty punk. I'm so relieved to read that it's just a normal part of his growth, rather than that I've turned him into a complete turd through my incompetent parenting. I am now counting the days until he turns 5. (112 days to go!)

[Eli]

Yes, yes! I have a 4.5 year old girl and am having the worst mommy days ever because of her typical, age-appropriate behavior. So, picture what Patrick is acting like and add whining, tears, and hurt feelings. Hang on for a fun ride! Everyone keeps telling me it will get better in a few months, so let's all hope that is true!

[lolismum]

Ok, I will diverge from the previous posters. Patrick is not being a 2 year old, he is being clever and creative and bored to death with mundane assignments and mainstream schools. Yes, he should follow instructions, he is a small kid, he should learn about rules and discipline yada yada yada, but why can't the simple minded teacher just vary the exercise a little for Patrick's skills? I am a teacher too, albeit for much older people and I know the difference between those who do not follow instructions and skip work due to apathy, laziness and those who simply think outside the box. I think the A is brilliant.

[SarahD]

Phyllo dough is THE DEVIL. That is all.

[Loona]

I did that kind of art-class rebellion at four as well. I only liked to draw people, so when the teacher asked why my landscape assignment was filled with flying people, I rolled my eyes and said, "Those aren't people, those are gods." I was into Greek mythology. I am now a brilliant adult.

Which leads me to my next anecdote, which is that I, too, set my oven on fire while trying to make baklava on a rimless cookie sheet.

[Cris]

Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!

[Amy D.]

My mother-in-law formulates that blue cobalt interior, she will be crushed that you tried to hurt it....but I salute you! heehee. I have a cobalt blue Kitchen Aid mixer that is embarassingly dusty from lack of use and the inside of my oven is disgusting...if I work up the courage to make Christmas cookies, I just hope they don't smell like burnt garlic! Bad, bad Suzy homemaker am I....I've got nothing on the fucking fours, but best of luck with it anyhow!

[Pamplemousse]

I am sorry that my pedantry knows no bounds but it is filo pastry, people!!!

[Louise]

I have heard that boys have a testosterone surge around 4 years...maybe Patrick is having his earlier? Apparently it turns them into testosterone-fuelled little bastards and if my friend's awful boys are anything to go by then it is truly horrendous to behold.

Also you'll be pleased to learn that this is the first of several such surges(according to my limited knowledge), but I believe it culminates in those terrible acne-covered teenagers who like to drive cars very fast, unfortunately into stationary objects, well here in NZ they do.

Your post was as usual subliminally funny, I do wish you'd leave your new kitchen and post more often.

Cheers,
Louise.

[Amanda]

Oh you make me feel SO much better! If even you darling Julia can set fire to things in a kitchen, then me of the "utterly useless in the kitchen" variety has an excuse!

One of my claims to fame was that I managed to burn shortbread in a microwave at school (it turned bright red in the middle) the teachers were flummoxed - academia always suited me more than home economics...
So far this year I have blown up 2 microwaves - one almost set my parents house on fire (I mistook the button for dual cook/convection cook for high power microwave, not once but TWICE in the space of one afternoon) & the other exploded our NEW microwave! You'd think I'd learn my lesson!!!

Love Patrick - although going through the 2s right now makes me SCARED for the 4s!!!! My darling delicious boy has similar "hostage situations" about clothing & putting things in certain places. For eg. wants to ring the doorbell, can't manage it wearing gloves, refuses to remove gloves, has meltdown when I suggest that it would make the doorbell ringing easier, does that toddler dead-drop thing when they go extra heavy as you try to pick them up, forces me to put on his gloves again (I having taken them off to show him how easy it is to ring a doorbell without gloves), walks through the door (eventually), promptly removes gloves (and scarf & hat) and drops them on the hall floor and stomps off! This is normal right???

[Julia S]

φ is generally written as "ph" in America, thus we spell it "phyllo". See also: honor, color, trunk and hood of a car, aLUminum, margarine, fanny as an appropriate thing for a small child to sit upon and the Revolutionary War. My dearest friend here is an English/Austrian woman (Anglo-Austrienne?) and firmly believes that we are hopeless savages. Of course, her bathroom is full of back issues of Hello! so who is she to judge, I ask you?

[Monica C.]

*googling Delestrogen*

What on Earth is a tea towel?

[Fuzz]

I don't suppose that's the recipe from a recent Fine Cooking? About appetizers you can make ahead and then freeze? That I'm planning to make for a cocktail party next Friday? Because if it is? I bet you just saved my ass (and my crappy, third-rate oven, which I bet I would have set on fire too).

[Kathleen]

Four is the new two.

I don't know why the fact that four is a terribly pain-in-the-ass stage is such a secret. Everyone wanted to warn me about the "terrible twos", but not a word about four until I would say something first.

As for the fire; that is why I do not have expensive kitchen appliances. I will surely set fire to all of them eventually and so why not make it less of a heartbreaker.

[winecat]

How do those teachers know that Patrick does not see himself as a clump of broccoli? Just because they don't see it doesn't mean he doesn't. He just morphed from an "A" to broccoli - simple

[karyn]

Having a five year old that was just tested past a grade 6 reading/comprehension level (their test only went that high), and yet does not behave all that well in class, I can feel your pain about the parent-teacher conference. They are not joyful at all.

I had to hold back my tears all the way through our conference while the lovely, sweet, loves my daughter, teacher was explaining all the assinine things my daughter does in class and how she is going down the path of ostracization if we can't correct it.

It is hard having a child who is lovely, sweet and brilliant, and yet just will.not.be.normal.ever. I guess the not-normalness is what makes my daughter who she is, but I do wish that I wasn't always tense when I picked her up in case the teacher approached me with yet another weird tale.

If this age is a preview to what they are like as teenagers, well, just sign me up for the funny farm now, because I will not survive with my marbles intact. They are already rattling around ominously.

Sorry to hear about the oven fire. But what a gorgeous sounding oven to have the fire in. Surely you had the classiest oven fire ever recorded!

[Heather]

We also have the same stove. Even down to the 6 burner and griddle option. But you reminded me I had to call them to come out and fix it again. It seems after running the self cleaning option, it overheats something and then it never heats up again. We had it happen once before and they fixed it, but said if it happened again, they'd do something more drastic to fix it. We had the kitchen in our new house built to fix the appliances we wanted. We also have another convection oven/microwave combo on the wall near the subzero fridge.

Anyway, sorry to hear Patrick is driving you crazy. My DD goes through strange periods too. She's my meltdown girl. If she gets frustrated she melts down. She's also very stubborn and wants to stay in meltdown mode. AAAAccck!!! Anyway, my famous line to her is, "You think you're stubborn??? I invented stubborn!" LOL.

[Polichick]

May we see kitchen pics, please? I love good decoratin'. :-)

[Claire]

My youngest caused me little trouble at 2, 3, 4 - her teachers loved her, parents evenings were embarrasingly full of praise - but before you stop reading, she was the teenager from hell!

Can't second guess the little buggers, nor predict what's coming up.

[susan]

Oh Julia. I just LOVE me some Patrick. I totally wish he was my nephew or something so I could be the one to encourage that side of him (read: spoil) while you go get a mani/pedi and take a break from his greatness.

[ProfessorDog]

The Letter A with hands and feet, labeled "In my costum" sounds wonderful. The brocoli one is more puzzling. What was the third self-portrait like?

(Speaking of Quirky, if you haven't read the book "Quirky Kids" by Perri Klass and Eileen Costello yet, it might be worth a look. It has lots of practical advice for navigating school and such with a kid who isn't quite typical.)

[longtime_reader]

It seems to me we can all get overly-enamored about how smart our children are, but the fact remains they are children. We always have to do things we don't want to do. Patrick may be super-smart but he has to realize you are in charge and he has to do what you say. If he doesn't know it at 4, you are in for a very unpleasant 14. Keep up the good fight.

[hungry_reader]

Feta and spinach and mint and olives..

Mmmmm...

Could we all get that recipe, please? (Will make note to self to use cookie sheet with a rim..)

[Jen P]

Have done very same thing. Filo (kiwi spelling) stuffed with pine nuts, feta, and spinach. Forgot to defrost spinach. Ha ha ha. So we had water pouring out of the bottom of the oven.

The very next week I was roasting my brussel sprouts -- lots of olive oil! on a side-less pan and ho ho ho the flames were coming out the door.

And that is why I'm on a semi-permanent cooking ban.

[jessica]

But...you never said if your oven was ok or not?
(I hope it is)