Polish Stir Fry aka Tom's Stir fry

I have a few Go To meals that require no thought on my part since I have the ingredient list memorized. These include meatloaf, fajitas, French dips, chili or polish stir fry.
I call this Toms Stir Fry because I like to name things after people I love. Tom is my wonderful brother in law and the only Pollock I know. Anyhow I first saw the inspiration recipe on Rachael Ray but I have modified or "Sarafied" it over the years. Don't let the photo fool you- it looks kind of gross but it's both surprisingly delicious and healthy.

TOMS POLISH STIR FRY
Serves 4

1 turkey polish kielbasa
1 big bunch of kale
1 sliced yellow onion
2 tbsp mustard
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
Couple dashes of hot sauce
Salt and pepper
PAM cooking spray
Fresh dill
OPTIONAL ADDITIONS
1 peeled sliced green apple
2 tbsp sauerkraut (cut back on vinegar if so)
2 thinly slices gold potatoes
1 sliced bell pepper.

Spray pam into a large skillet. Saute the onions. Cut kielbasa into chunks and add. ( this is also when you would stir in your additional ingredients). When meat is brown and onions are soft add the mustard, kale and vinegar. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cover and allow kale to soften but remain bright green. When kale is sautéed in and soft (about 10 minutes) you're finished. When putting in plate sprinkle a bit more salt and pepper to taste as well as the chopped fresh dill.

Leave Experiments To Those Who Went To Fancy Colleges

I did attempt college. I gave it the ol' college try (pun intended). I majored in Political Science and took night classes in a nursing school. Neither of those things made me qualified to do what I began doing this spring; Start a social experiment.
My husband's best friend Isaac calls Facebook the devil. I always imagine him saying it while dressed as Dana Carvey's famous SNL character "church lady" whenever things go sour on that popular website. Facebook can be a good thing. You can share photos with distant relatives, catch up with old friends or learn about new blogs. I think it becomes evil when you forget that all the junk you vent on your computer actually gets sent into cyber space for all your "friends" to read. I of course am famous for this. Not long ago I posted about not going on Facebook when you're in a bad mood because you just might get deleted by your cousin Juanita. I should've learned a lesson, but instead I decided to take it one step further to prove a point. The really crappy part is that I proved myself correct.
Earlier this year someone attempted to compliment me by saying that they loved how "real" I was. This isn't the first time someone has mentioned my penchant for blunt conversation and blatant honesty. My husband and mother do not usually think of these personality traits as compliments but we'll see why later. Anyhow, I began to think that no one actually loves the "real" or "honest" folks they only say they do. I looked at Facebook as the perfect example of this. People were candid to a point regarding minor issues, but the layer of fiction was always covering the honesty. People would attempt to be genuine all the while strapping their Facebook Safety Condom on (also known as the "LOL" or "HEEHEE") to be sure that they could say they were joking if anyone took offense. Now I've used plenty of LOL's to assure that family and friends would still send me Christmas cards and I was beginning to become disgusted in myself. I've always been straight-forward and a right fighter. These two things are listed in both my strengths and weaknesses columns and I have always been well aware of that fact. So that day I decided to see if people really did appreciate honest people. I'd discover if this was truly a strength or a weakness.
I decided to have a couple of things I was going to consider honest:

1. I would always bring to attention when someone said something hypocritical or two-faced.
2. I'd always say exactly what came into my borderline warped mind.
3. I'd call out political issues that were far fetched or incorrect (explains my disdain for the Tea Party)
4. I'd also welcome and appreciate all respectfully made differences of opinions but would sever relationships if I felt they were not positive instead of blocking their posts to avoid hurt feelings.  After all blocking posts isn't being honest. Right?

When I started most of my friends probably didn't notice a difference in me. My mom would occasionally tell me I was being rude and I'd justify it by reminding her that this is who I was and people could either appreciate it or delete me. During the first couple months no big drama happened. I had disagreements with people over my issues with the presidential candidates and gay marriage. Here and there I'd delete people that I felt acted hatefully or bigoted, but all in all it remained pretty authentic Sarah. I even watched beautiful debates regarding abortion and homosexual marriage on my wall where people treated each other well even though they disagreed. I felt I had finally created an awesome forum where people could be undisguised on my statuses and some people heard points of views that even swayed their beliefs. Only recently things began to unravel on me. I started acting in a manner that was hateful. When statuses were posted that generalized people or made me angry I'd announce to the world that I was deleting the person without giving them a chance to defend themselves. I was becoming obsessed with finding peoples faults without looking at my own. It doesn't help that I was watching a ton of Newsroom at the time (fans of this wonderful program with understand). I on occasion would admit when I was wrong...but that was rare. Family wasn't even safe. My complete irritation with one aunt caused an uproar and my relationship with a cousin that I was close with came to an end. Afterward I deleted 2 other cousins for similar reasons. All together I've de-friended around 15 people (most of which related to me) over the past few months.
In the past week I began behaving very similar to 1997 Sarah. The problem with that is I was 16 that year and I am now currently 31; this behavior wasn't mature at all. The other day I became infuriated with a comment posted on my status. The comment was stupid and from a person I couldn't care less about but I let in boil inside me. I declared that only I could act like an idiot on my page and swiftly deleted that person...and the 2 people that liked his comment. I had completely changed. It didn't matter to me that the people I deleted were related to one of my best friends because in my head I was sticking to my guns and not tolerating things I determined disrespectful. I was justified in my actions and could not be told otherwise.
Today my experiment came to an end. I was ripped a new one by someone that did care about the people I deleted and did want me to realize that I had become what I disliked the most, a hypocrite. I read this post (that was made public which I did actually appreciate) after enduring a night of God showing me what I'd become and a church service completely focused on loving others in the way Christ loves us. Now, I don't believe in coincidences. I believe if you ignore God long enough he'll drown you in His message. It is because I believe that way that I wrote an apology and explanation on my page, personally apologized to the appropriate people, allowed myself to feel completely shamed and low all day and it's why I'm now writing this.
Everyday these occurances happen on Facebook. I know I'm not the first or the last to go on a tirade. Facebook makes everyone feel important. You type away your opinion and than bask in it when your friends agree with it and you get hurt when they don't. I don't agree with Isaac. Facebook isn't the devil, but I do compare it with a disease. If you don't watch yourself closely the disease can take over your life and the biggest side effect is narcissism. My little experiment turned me into a narcissist and if that had been my goal I would've succeeded with flying colors.
In my months of blatant honesty I discovered 2 things. First, people DO NOT WANT YOU TO BE HONEST. Sure friends want you to nicely mention that their outfit shows their muffin top and you obviously want your husband to be honest about what he does, but leave it to the big things only. Telling someone they're a jackass for believing Obama wasn't born here doesn't make you honest, it makes you the jackass. The second thing I learned is that you can not make rules for others to follow without telling them or asking them if it's okay. If someone wants to live in a world of sunshine and lullabies than that is their choice. You can think it's dishonest but keep it to yourself. Believe me.

There is something way more important that honesty in this world and its humility. If the only thing I got from this is the ability to call myself out than I consider this experiment a success. Maybe it wasn't others that needed to be shown their true selves; maybe it was me. Lucky for me God has enough grace to go around because I'm going to need a lot of it.
Type Safely.

Long time no see

I'm a bad bad blogger. I've been busy and lazy. I'll be a good good blogger. Please forgive me 10 followers. I'm also going to embrace photos of my recipes to post to this new thing called Pinterest? Maybe you've heard of it.

Even I'm wrong every so often...

Today I heard my 8 year old son say to me "Mom, when will you let me be me?"

That stabbed me straight to the heart. I had thought I was a mom that encouraged her kids to celebrate their God given gifts and loves, but today my son pointed out where I had failed.
To properly explain my now enlightened issue I need to give a brief method to my madness. You may be wondering in what part of Aiden's life he feels controlled by me and you'll be shocked...it's sports. I know! Those who know me know that other than Colorado hockey and my beloved Utes I couldn't care less about sports. However I did have a son and in my brainwashed brain--those things play sports.
My immediate family is not athletic. Well Joy is...sort of, but for the most part we Swenson 4 did not participate in sports, watch most sports, encourage sports, etc. My mom told stories of playing softball and she will cheer on the Utah Jazz and Utes on the television, but Ed, Big Daddy and I just don't have it in us.
My extended family was all about sports. My Uncle famously paces his living rooms and takes mini walks during particularly intense University of Utah games and it seemed when I was a kid that I was the odd man out since nearly all of my cousins played (and were very good) sports. I had one cousin that was a golf phenom and one that could literally excel at anything. I on the other hand was given these goofy, skinny, uncoordinated limbs that repelled athletics. I was similar to a baby deer...for 15 years. The kids in school or in my large extended family that were good at sports were important. There were always stories about these kids and their attributes and the adults would beam with pride. No one told stories about the kid that likes to draw (me) except for the super awesome tales about my negative attitude and sailor mouth (negative attention is after all attention). I noticed that no matter how snotty or rude my athletic cousins could be on occasion (you know you had your moments) it never mattered; they were good at sports.
When I was pregnant with Aiden we would joke about how we'd love for him to play hockey and do us proud. When Aiden was born I knew in the pit of my stomach I had just sort of cloned myself and that any dreams I had of this supremely sporty son were probably just dreams. As Aiden grew I taught him what I knew--art and music. I had him painting in the garage at 10 months old (the paint stains are still there irritating my husband) and learning about Pollack at 2 while creating his own version. The minute he saw The Nightmare Before Christmas my son had only one goal in his tiny 3 year old brain...to be Tim Burton. His days are filled with art even 5 years later, he makes stop motion movies with his 3DS and has written countless books (all in true Aiden/Burton fashion mildly creepy) and only dreams of being an author and movie maker. In the background I had these questions to answer: "what sports do Aiden play?", "Oh {insert name here} is such a great athlete already, what does your son do?" and when "he's an artist" didn't impress them I started pushing sports.
First there was soccer. Honestly my least favorite sport and I was secretly happy when he despised it. Golf has been on and off since his dad enjoys to play and he even tried out my favorite hockey. Swimming was the most promising and he moved his way up to the highest level. He pushed thru a summer of 2 hours a day practices with screaming coaches and 8 hour long swim meets. My Aiden even won some medals but I assume I cared much more than he ever did.
Today while driving to his guitar practice I told him that swim clinics were starting back up and he should probably start working on his strokes for summer meets. Aiden was not happy about this conversation and said, "Mom I. Don't. Like. Sports." to which I answered "You need to do something with yourself" and he looked at me and said "I do a lot of things, I play the guitar, draw, write books and make movies. When will you let me be me?" Ouch. Keep in mind that my sports career is limited to the few years I danced and the smidge of cross country that I quit to pursue smoking; I, in no way, had any right to push my mini me into sports. I sat during his lesson and went over the last 8 years in my mind. I have a son that loves to create things. I have a son that is humane, sincere, honest and loyal to his core. I have a son that lists his favorite bands as Weezer, the Beatles and the Shins. I have a son that actually knows who Modigliani is. I should be ashamed of myself for trying to turn him into anything else. The next time someone asks me what sports my son plays I will be 100% comfortable and proud to say..."He has better things to do."

**sidenote--according to Scott that last bit could be taken as a stab to those people that love sports. I'm not meaning to offend he just has things he finds better to do.

***extra sidenote---The little one shows promise...putting all our sporting pressure on Sophie.

I'm addicited

My name is Sarah and I'm addicted to food magazines. Every time I'm in that damn checkout lane at Target or Albertsons I see them. Their smiling faces saying "we know you already know how to make nachos but look at these" and "I know I'll just take up space on your ottoman until you stash me in a cupboard with the rest, but you need me". Just like that I impulse buy my copies of Everyday with Rachel Ray or Food network magazine. I read them cover to cover and on occasion I actually cook something with their recipes, but they're pointless. Any recipe I'd ever need can be found online using the countless recipe sites, pintrest or food blogs. My Lord I even write a food blog. This being said I do eventually do something constructive with these magazines aside from random school projects that require the kids to cut out pictures from them; I make scrapbooks. Every 6 months when I'm tired of moving them around I cut out the recipes and tips I actually think I will use and paste them in scrapbooks. Then I place the books with my cookbook collection and pull them out at the beginning of the month when I plan our menu.
This month I've decided I need a little challenge to pull me out of my current food rut--I will only make dishes I read in magazines. This will ease my guilt about the clutter they cause me and my family will get all new recipes this month. If you are also an addict I suggest doing the same. I know I'll never stop buying these freaking magazines (I've done the math and I've spent around $1500 dollars on magazines in the last 10 years so that's still better than a coke addiction) so I guess I'll be responsible with my habit.

Slow cooker beef n rice tacos

I needed to find an alternative to the usual taco night here. Today I tried out something new in the ol slowcooker and I really liked it.

Slow Cooker Beef and Rice Tacos

1 lb ground beef (you could use turkey)
1 tbsp cumin
1 tbsp garlic powder
dash of salt and pepper
1 small onion diced
1 pack of mexican or spanish flavored rice cooked according to package directions
1 can black beans rinsed
1 cup salsa
juice from 2 limes
handful of cilantro chopped (optional)
corn tortillas warmed
optional toppings: fresh cilantro, chedder cheese, salsa, sour cream
***
Total Slow cooker time 3 hours 45 min
Place your ground beef in your slow cooker and sprinkle seasonings on top of it. Cover and set to high for about 45 min.
Check on your meat and if its brown break it up with a spatula and add in the onion, salsa, beans, lime juice and cilantro. Turn it to Low and cook for another 2 hours.
At the 2 hour check in add your rice and mix together. Heat for no longer than an hour (still on low). When it's finished serve with any toppings you'd like and some tortillas to put the mixture in.
I know it seems like a lot of broken up time with the slow cooker but I promise it still feels like you did no cooking at all.

Someone should spank me

I need to be spanked.
Got your attention? Well I'm not talking about that kind of spanking--I mean disciplined (I'm still not being kinky). I became one of those moms today that we all pity/loathe. The mom with her hands full and the overwhelmed look of shame on her face. The mom with the bratty kids on the brink of a total meltdown.
I will start this tale by informing you of my biggest weakness when it comes to parenting: DISCIPLINE. I suck at it. I suck so bad it's like I'm trying to raise ingrates. I see that pouty lip quiver and I cave. My kids all know that if they don't want to be punished for whatever mistake they just made, they just need to stick out that lip and cry.
I fold for a combination of reasons. I started being a pushover because I simply hate the inconvenience of punishing my kids. I hate the crying, the screaming, the having to remind them over and over of why they're in trouble. I come by this honestly. I was once grounded for my entire freshman year. Halfway thru my "hard time" my dad decided he could no longer stand me constantly being in his face. I was then only grounded on weekdays for the remainder of my sentence.
The other reason I fold is because I plain and simple worship my kids. I love those friggin brats and I hate seeing them upset...at me.
Today was already irritating without any help from my kids. My mood had lifted after a pep talk from Scott and at 2pm I went to pick them up from school. Today was the first day back for Elliot's dance class and my brother came along to see her tap away. While at dance I made the huge mistake of judging the improper conduct a group of unruly kids in the building and even posting this judgment to my facebook status. After dance I decided to treat my children to an ice cream at our local parlor and had visions of us having a lovely time leading into a calm evening (did I mention that Scott had a very rare evening out tonight?). At the parlor the kids were not good. Elliot had a full puss on the entire time and after ordering her ice cream she refused to eat it. Sophie was crawling all over the booths and Aiden kept flinging things across the room while claiming "I didn't do that". My brother and I sat in complete awe of the totally unfamiliar kids sitting with us. In our family you just didn't act like that. We come from a long line of serious children--we didn't roughhouse, tickle, act up in restaurants, fling gumballs, etc. We're Swensons...we're civilized. That being said I didn't really know how to respond to these kids. If I would've really thought about my childhood I would have known that the reason we were civilized was my mother didn't take any crap. If I acted up in a restaurant she'd grab my ass and head for the car. If I was bratty and spoiled at the store she'd leave a full basket and bolt for the door. I was a well trained child (my dad was the one I could irritate into un-punishing me). I am not a well trained parent.
As we finished up the most irritating ice cream related experience I've ever had, the kids wandered around with my brother while I paid. Upon exiting the building I noticed Ellie had her fist clenched and a very uneasy look rested on her face. I grabbed her hand, opened it and found a small stretchy toy that I did not pay for. My daughter was a thief. Suddenly I had a "what would Joy do" moment *note: Joy is my mother. I grabbed her by the arm and stormed right back into the parlor and presented my thief to the nearest employee. I told them she had attempted to steal a toy and she had some apologies to give. Elliot in shock by my actions (I'll admit my original thought was to run to the car like Oceans 5 and never speak of it again) began to hysterically cry. The whole place stopped stuffing their face to look at the terrible mother and her terrible child.
The car ride home was not pleasant. My brother calmly tried to explain to the kids why I was so fuming pissed. "You guys have a good thing going here, don't screw it up" Ed says while I go on and on about why stealing is bad. I was so mad at myself that I could barely drive. Eight years of parenting ran through my mind. All the lack of discipline had led up to this. Because of my irresponsible parenting my daughter was half way to being in the mafia. I kept hearing Dr. Phil in my head saying "How'd you think this would end up?" and my only answer was "I thought they'd always have fond memories about how wonderful and loving their mom was".
I'm so embarrassed to admit that I want them to like me so desperately that I've compromised their respect for me. I spoke to Aiden later and asked him if he thought this would have happened had Scott been there, and he point blank said no. Scott follows through with his words and because of that our kids respect him.
Today I came to a fork in the road. I could have easily avoided the humiliation and grabbed Ellie and headed for the car instead of the parlor. I could have cemented in her brain that she can steal something and still get away with it. Instead I put a pretty bold memory in her head that she'll hopefully remember when she's a parent, just like I remember Joy hauling me to the car while the rest of our family finished their dinner. My mom allowed herself to be inconvenienced in order to instill some respect and civility into her child. My memories with my mother aren't bad. She was and is loving, nurturing and fun. I liked her as a child and as an adult I like her so much I call her every day. So I need to remember that when the lips pout out and their eyes get huge and glossy. I can follow through with a punishment and still have kids that like me. Or I can start saving for bail money instead of college.