Ice Cream Recipe


Family Portrait: The Mom, Evolet with Chocolate Ice Cream Face, The Dad

I loves me some ice cream! Apparently, I passed this along to my offspring. The best ice cream is homemade–using no ice and no cream. Instead, we use frozen bananas. Yumbas!

Here’s what you do, the Long Version:

1. Get yoself some ripe bananas (they should be brown spotty…avoid getting over eager and using yellow ones. Patience Obi Wan).
2. Peel and chop them into about inch size pieces. I think I used about 4 or 5…may have been 7 or 8 because I am a FEEDER.
3. Put them in a container in the freezer for AGES. Til they are frozen. Usually minimally a few hours. No need to cover them.
4. When ready, shove them into an obnoxiously efficient blender, like the Vitamix. Yes, you will need an insane blender for this.
5. Add a dollop of agave nectar and whatever else tickles you. I added raw cocoa for ours.
6. Blend away! Be sure to use your plunger and stop when it’s done…or you will end up with a banana smoothie.

Short Version: Stick some frozen bananas in a blender.

My husband was all, “No, I don’t want an–” until he saw the finished wonderfulness and then the greedy bugger ate half of it.

Note: I put a dollop of peanut butter on ours after it was done. Absolutely delectable!


Food Before One is Just for Fun…and Wearing

In this house, we prefer to use the term ‘learning experience’ in place of ‘mistake’. Somehow it seems kinder, more forgiving…less judgemental. Please find my latest parenting learning experience below:


Note: This shirt used to be white. The pink tie-dye effect is courtesy of my daughter. Maybe she will be a hippy when she grows up. Which is cool with me because it means she will save money on haircuts (seriously…why is it so expensive to get your hair cut?).

Ok, so it was a dark and stormy Friday night. My husband left for a conference for the whole weekend in Glasgow earlier that day. I, after tidying the house and generally being good, sat down to enjoy my vittles on the couch and bounce between cuddling a playful Evolet and zoning out to CSI:Miami (it was probably Keeping Up with the Kardashians…but I would never admit that).

Since I needed a few minutes to be a lazy mom, I gave said daughter a juicy strawberry to keep her occupied while I wolfed down my grub. She is technically still exclusively breastfed, and so I see little bits of whole pieces of fruit as ‘food before one is just for fun,’ as the saying goes. It could potentially also be ‘food before one gives mom five minutes of distraction while she scoffs.’

I sat Strawberry Girl next to me on the couch and drifted into TV land. Evers was giggling and chatting away as per the usual, leaning in to give me hugs, etc. She likes strawberries. She was happy. I was happy. Life was good.

Then I got up to get a drink. And walked past the mirror. I was surreptitiously blotchy! I had subconsciously felt patches of coolness from where she had been climbing up on me, only thought nothing of it. The cool patches, I realise now, are Lazy Mom squishy strawberry payback. Additionally, we also have pink artwork stains all over the couch. Good thing I like pink.

I’m not really sure if any of the strawberry actually got past my top, her top, her trousers, her bib, the couch, or every crevice of her face (and later I also discovered…my hair) to her tummy. My mission, however, was accomplished. I did enjoy my dinner without spontaneous grabs and eating most if it out of Evolet’s fingers. So, two points for me there.

Moral of this learning experience: Wear a red top 😉