The “Perfect Fit” Challenge…

You may be thinking that I am going to talk about relationships and what it’s like when you find your perfect mate for life.  Nope, it’s not that.  Then maybe it’s about diet and weight loss and finding that perfect fit for your body.  Nah…that’s been overdone.  Truly there are many things that could apply to this two-word challenge.  However, the one I am speaking of is one that I instigated upon myself.  It is the challenge of finding a container that will fit leftover food without leaving space between the food and the lid.  Let me give you a bit of background on how this obsession of mine started.

If you came to my house and checked out my pantry shelf in the basement and my fridge and freezer (yes I have extra appliances in my basement as all good Croatians do), you could probably go shopping.  I should supply little baskets.  Now, Wiseguy is always telling me to stop overstocking, especially now that it is only the two of us in the house.  I, however, disagree.  It’s not that we have fewer people in the house, we now have waaaay more people coming for meals now that the children are all coupled and have children of their own.  There is a need for more food.  (Please feel free to begin your own discussion on this matter).  This was a nasty habit I picked up from my mother.

My parents were raised in a village.  They literally grew up in tiny homes that were overcrowded with children (free labour).  When they came to Canada it was important to stockpile food stuff to ensure they would never be hungry again.  I myself did not grow up hungry, but that habit of my mother’s for being prepared was ingrained in my head.  However, hubby is always saying he can’t see the light on in the fridge because of all the leftovers and the potential “throw away” food.  There you have it.  My need to condense our fridge co-habitants.  Hubster will open the ice box and see a plethora of food and all I see are half filled containers of leftovers.  If we start making dinner using previous meals and a container is left half full, I will seek out a replacement that will fit the contents precisely.  My obsessiveness is actually something that I have passed on to the kids too.  They now challenge themselves when they help me clean up after a meal.  They even do it in their own homes.  Yes, my craziness has rubbed off on them.  It’s quite entertaining to watch Wiseguy watching his children mimic my obsessiveness.  I’m quite proud of it.  Anyway, you must be wondering…how is this a challenge?

You may think this is a simple thing.  Nay I say!  Have you ever had your spouse/friend/family member/acquaintance put leftover spaghetti in a container and it only fills half the bowl?  How horrible!  What a waste of precious fridge space.  My goal is to find the correct container…on the first guess!  Anyone can start putting stuff into a larger container than is needed.  Pshaw!  Way too easy.  How about the times you start off with a small container and you misjudged the interior expanse.  Oh me, oh my!  Not only do you need to peruse your cupboard for a new receptacle, but now you have to wash the one you had previously chosen.  FAIL!

Allow me to show you the difference between a PASS and  a FAIL.

100% FAIL!

This is how things used to be put into my fridge.  Egad!

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PASS!  

How lovely!  Might have even found a smaller container as there is space at the top

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Here was my most recent challenge.  I boiled macaroni.  Part of it was for a casserole and the rest was going to be leftovers for my lunch or perhaps even dinner the next day.

As you can see, macaroni in pot.  Next was my chosen container.  It was going to be tight, but I think I eye-balled correctly.

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Then halfway up the container and still more pasta to go.  I took a quick gulp and hoped for the best.

 

 

 

GAME!  SET!  MATCH!!  PERFECTION!

Seriously.  The cover fit.  All the elbow macaroni is contained.  NO…I did not eat any of it.  No cheating with this game.

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For all you OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) darlings out there…this is a boon for you.  It may seem so simple and irrelevant, but once you start you will catch the bug.  It’s all about finding the “perfect fit”.  And if you are high falutin, you can rename it (as I used to call it) “The Tupperware Challenge”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a village…

Wiseguy was a very lucky man today.  No…a VERY lucky grandfather today.  He got to babysit…nope….entertain…little Kennie.  Believe me….she played games with him as much as he played games with her.  A battle of wits.  Entertaining?  Yes.  Tiring?  Absolutely.

Growing up, my mother always told me that she felt bad because I didn’t have grandparents or great grandparents.  “I have to be your mother, grandmother, great grandmother, best friend.”  That never made sense to me.  I thought she was just rambling…you know…the way mothers always do, and it never made sense.

Well, becoming an aunt was a learning experience.  I remember talking to my first nephew and niece (only 17 months apart) and trying to impart words of wisdom without having them burst into tears.  Then later, I became a stepmother.  Mother might have been easier, don’t know, but stepmother, to tweens and teens, not easy either.  Lots of “behind the door” tears because I couldn’t show hurt or failure.  I lived and survived it and learned a lot from that experience. 

Now, we’re at the fun part of  life.  Becoming a grandma at 42.  Although surprising, it was AWESOME!  I still have energy to keep up with the wee wonder-girl!  Our Kennie (who will be 2 years old at the end of august) is just hilarious.  Her two-syllable vocabulary and her imitations are amazing and fun and entertaining and adorable.  You can see how much time her mom spends with her.  She teaches her many things from singing to counting (by the way…counting starts like this..you say “one” and she continues with “two” …there is no “one” in her vocab.  Anyway, toddlers are fun.  Entertaining, fun, and…extremely tiring.

So, when Wiseguy told me that he got to babysit (ahem…hang out with) little Kennie, I was jealous…in a happy way.  It’s nice for him to have fun play time with little Kennie. 

Honestly, kids have an amazing view of the world and what is determined as “fun”.  Grandpa was brilliant.  He decided that it was time to water the flowers in the backyard.  “Kennie do.”  Yup, the hose, full of water, was initially aimed at watering the flowers.  Then it became a fountain, spraying on Kennie and the puppies and everywhere BUT the flowers.  Fun? Totally!  What else did the dynamic duo do? 

They ran around the house.  They drew pictures.  They ate fruit.  They played with the “Gogs” (aka dogs).  They had  lunch.  Then grandma came home at lunch and luckily got to put little Kennie down for a nap.  Nothing like watching a wee child sleep in peace.  Those little breaths in and out and that peaceful look on their face.  Absolute comfort and happiness.

After work, Grandma came home to the welcoming, happy face of wee Kennie and “come”…time to play.  We forget to play.  We adults play, but sadly, it’s usually a play to win situation.  Grandma just had to play with Kennie by dancing.  A little boogie woogie and giggling with mommy.  Then I had Kennie help set the table because “Kennie do” was all I heard.

Grandpa Wiseguy was happy.  He got to have fun playing games with the pre-two year old all day.  She had a two hour nap.  She scarfed down lunch.  She gave lots of hugs and held his hand and helped water the flowers and played drums and just gabbed and laughed and played with grandpa. 

After Princess and Little Kennie went home after dinner, I got a lovely text message “out like a lightbulb”.  I was so happy that Kennie had a  wonderful day with both grandpa and great-grandpa.  I texted back:  Grandpa out too.

Sweet dreams Grandpa.  You done good.

(Just a small note:   I have heard this phrase many times before, but in case you haven’t…it takes a village to raise a child.  The more the merrier.  All hands on deck.  Lots of supervision, lots of love, and lots of different views from different generations.  Yes, it does take a loving village to raise a child.)