Corn is Toxic

Corn is toxic….yeah, you might as well go chug a liter of antifreeze because it’s probably healthier for you than corn. That is unless your friend, with a Mexican mother, offers to teach you how to make enchiladas. They are so delicious that I ate them, toxic corn tortilla and all! And I don’t care because I’m never going to take the time to make these in the forseeable future. Cooking is something I enjoy immensely, but some things are better left to others to make and this dish is one of them. So, don’t expect a recipe to follow this post because there simply isn’t one. I suggest you make friends with a wonderful someone such as, Alma who not only makes them well, but enjoys this laborious task.
I genuinely think this is the best food I have had in Dublin and have decided on enjoying Alma’s cooking rather than face another disappointment at Mc O’Brady’s Pub with the traditional Irish omission of any type of spice/flavor in the cooking. I will say the Irish have fantastic, fresh produce and a lack of harmless preservatives/chemicals in their food which is almost worth the lack of flavor at all of the restaurants I have visited. I’m left with The Chophouse near our home which Anthony Bourdain visited and raved about. I figure if it’s good enough for him, then hopefully I won’t leave feeling utter disappointment.
I woke up this morning feeling like I got hit by a train no doubt due to the toxic corn in last night’s binge. It was nearly 15 degrees outside today and sunny, so I quickly rounded the kids up for a trip to our local park. Stomping, feet and a shrill bark from Big forced me to take him along. So, there I was my three year old trying to ride in the stroller, my 18 month old insisting on walking, and Mr. Big scaring the locals with his giant traps and block head. I clearly remember telling A to use the potty before our trip, but she knows everything and decided against going prior to our departure. My little harem managed to arrive at the green in just under 40 minutes (a 10-15 minute walk for most). Going anywhere with two or more small children is a flipping nightmare and generally the getting there and getting home takes twice the amount of time you will actually have to play due to aforementioned lengthened travel time. There we were just enjoying the sunshine, ripping up grass, digging in the mud, and throwing balls. A gleeful baby T was screaming and chasing Mr. Big who was intent on being pet by an older woman who would’ve clubbed him with her umbrella had he gotten close enough.I felt a tug on my sweater followed by a soft voice, “Mommy, I really have to pee.” I looked down to see a nervous looking A with her legs crossed. Hmmmm what to do now? There are obviously no public toilets here as we are in Europe and Europeans never have to use the facilities whilst out in public, of course. That is the after all the reason why when you visit over here you will more likely find a golden egg than a public restroom.
I think we shall go into one of the pubs or shops surrounding this pretty little green. Oh shit, we have Mr. Big, that quickly nixes that idea. Here are my options so far…tie Mr. Big to a pole and take the kids into one of these establishments and quickly use the restroom or I stand outside with baby and dog while A goes inside and pees. Neither of these sound like good options, but it doesn’t matter because A makes a decision for me. She stands in the middle of the green and starts peeing. She is wearing tights and a skirt of course (pants are for boys, she says) and hot pink Uggs. Gee, its a good thing she at least tried to be discrete about her accident! I tell her quietly, that it’s OK while scanning the area to see if we are going to be arrested for public urination. In seconds I shove the baby into the stroller along with the giant stick he has collected and drag dumb dog and a now wet,cold A out of the green. Somehow we made it home in a record breaking 25 minutes despite A waddling like a duck in her wet tights.
I honestly felt so bad for her but couldn’t hide my annoyance that our outdoor adventure was cut short due to her inability to follow directions.
I got all of us and our things into the house and plopped A into the shower (she doesn’t like a tub bath anymore at the old age of 3). Naturally, the baby wanted to join, so there I was fully clothed attempting to shower two children and remain dry. The task of staying dry was no more likely to happen than say a pig taking flight. A trying to be her helpful little self supplied her little brother with some bar soap which he instantly sudsed up on his hand and then rub his eyes with both hands. He screamed then repeated the sequence, rub eyes, scream, rub eyes, scream, you get the idea. I desperately tried to get him into the stream of the shower, but of course, I was the enemy to him and he fought me as hard as he could. I finally accomplished my mission with soaking clothes clinging to my skin and sopping socks. I dressed him quickly then dealt with an ornery A who refused to dress herself without my help. That’s the logic of a three year old…would rather freeze to death than dress herself.
Lunch went without incident, thankfully, and then it was off to a nap for the baby. If you are not a mom reading this then I assume you would not have inferred that lunch means you fed your children and not yourself. Mom of course will eat some leftover something while vacuuming during nap time. Enter delicious enchiladas and their toxic corn containing tortillas. I think I’m ok with eating some poison about now as it can’t be nearly as harmful as actually trying to take small children out in public. Don’t worry, I skipped my daily green smoothie to have a second helping of nature’s toxin wrapped around cheese and smothered in delicious, red pepper sauce.
I don’t think I can write anymore, I’m lapsing into a full blown carb coma…..

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