Thanks for stopping by to KN J Tales and Snippets! Let me tell you a bit about myself and how this blog came to be.
I started journal writing as a form of cathartic release from all of the stresses of being a mother of two young children, working, and day-to-day living.
I found that many of my journal entries were funny snippets of my day spent with my two adventurous and cheeky cherubs. Oftentimes, I’ve found myself in rather amusing and outright unbelievable situations. Of course, there have been times upon self-reflection where the entries speak of the darker moments in my life, like my struggles with mental health issues and parenting.
Journal writing re-awakened my love for creative writing and storytelling. I found a desire to share my words with others. And so after much deliberation, this blog was born. My very own blog journal!
If you choose to join me on my journey, you’ll probably read short stories based on my personal experiences in life and as a parent. Most of the time, they’ll be funny and relatable, maybe even inspiring! Other times, you might read some words that are hard for me to write but find the courage to share.
I’ll aim for a weekly post. Maybe even two! (very unlikely at this stage in life)
Subscribe to my email list if you want to be informed of new content as my posting regime is best described as erratic.
I hope you enjoy reading my words as much as I love writing them.
There is an annoying trend happening in my household. I cook and no one eats. Sound familiar to anyone?
Every Sunday, I meal plan and order my groceries online. Each week, like clockwork, I’ll ask the same question – what would you like to eat this week? The response from each member of the family never changes – I don’t know, whatever!
So each week, I waste brain cells coming up with exciting new dishes coupled with a few solid favourites for dinner. Honestly, I don’t know why I bother with trying to expand their palates! The results are always the same.
“I don’t like this!”
“It smells yuck!”
“It looks yuck”
“I can’t eat this!”
Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? I must be insane.
The worst part is having to eat leftovers for days on end because I don’t want to throw out good food and waste money.
You’re probably wondering if maybe my cooking isn’t up to par and that’s why people are refusing to eat it, right?
Well, let me assure you that I’m a decent cook. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’d be in the running to win Masterchef… Junior, that is. As in, if I was competing against a bunch of talented 10-year-olds, I’d totally be in with a chance 😜
Sure, there are people who would spit their coffee reading my bold declaration. For instance, my brother would bitterly disagree and claim that eating my food gives him the sh&ts, literally. My mum would roll her eyes and tell me my food is as bland as baby mush. My children and husband might balk and tell you my meals are never the same and too “experimental.”
But maybe the problem isn’t my abilities or my creations. Maybe the problem lies with everyone else?
I’ll give you an example of what I’m talking about. Just a few days ago, I made a lemon meringue pie for the first time ever. My husband suggested I make use of the surplus of lemons given to us. Obviously everyone knows baking is an exact science and can’t be replicated without a recipe, so I found a highly rated recipe online and channelled my inner Nigella.
This is what it looked like. Pretty damn good if you ask me.
After making this beautiful creation, my husband told me he didn’t like lemon meringue pie. My 9-year-old daughter told me it tasted terrible, and my 4-year-old son stated he was allergic. I think he meant he was allergic to my food in general.
I offered some to my brother, but he texted “The pie looks mad [but] nah, I’m good. Too risky with diarrhoea.” My friends weren’t too keen to take any, stating diets and what not.
So what do you do when no one wants to taste test your food? You try it yourself. And guess what? I got diarrhoea. My brother was right to steer clear of my food.
While the pie looked amazing, its beauty was only skin deep. The shortcrust pastry was undercooked, the meringue tasted strange and the lemon curd was playing slippery buggers between the layers. I did a rush job and took the pie out too soon, fearing the meringue would burn.
But in my defence, maybe the lemon meringue pie disaster was a once-off anomaly. Just a bad day in the kitchen is all. After all, even Gordon Ramsay experiences bloopers and cooking fails.
Last night, I made a beef massaman curry from scratch. No bottle stuff, no siree! I used kaffir lime leaves, cinnamon sticks and even tamarind paste. You know, like authentic Thai ingredients.
This is what it looked like. Smelled as good as it looked, my friends!
Anyway, the husband asked if I used lemongrass or kaffir limes, claiming the taste was overpowering. The 4-year-old claimed “grass limes” weren’t for him and refused to even try it. The 9-year-old asked if she had to eat it all to get dessert. It felt like another bust.
The husband tried to placate me saying that I should lower my expectations and not strive for perfection all the time. He suggested that I should view cooking as a journey to be explored and to think of these mishaps as a learning and practice experience.
He wasn’t trying to sound condescending or critical, but after slaving in the kitchen for a few hours, I wanted to shove my boot up his clacker!
From where I stand (…in the kitchen), there can only be two solutions to this problem. One – be a stubborn mule and continue in hopes something will change. Two – accept that I’m no Gordon or Nigella, and I might be better choosing dishes to suit the palates of my family members. However unrefined those palates may seem.
There are no whimsical musings or heartfelt personal essays from me tonight. It’s been a rather drab week, both in terms of life happenings and weather. It’s been pouring rain despite being in Spring.
We’re still in lockdown. Kids are continuing with remote school learning. We watch way too many movies and spend too many hours playing video games. We are eating more takeout than before. And without the pressures of assignments, I find myself twiddling my thumbs.
Oh, I am now a qualified adult educator! I finished and passed the ten units needed for the certificate. What I’ll be qualified to teach will be another story. Next year, I’ll begin my search for a job.
I started pottering around on Medium. I created a profile at the end of July but hadn’t done anything until this week. I’m still learning the how-to’s and fixing things as I go. Not sure if I’ll stick to it. Does anyone have a Medium account? Have you got any suggestions or advice? WordPress feels like a comfy old sweater now and I’m not too keen to go changing. But I’ve been told Medium is where to go for the action.
Anyhow, that’s it from me. I’m off to nurse a hot drink, gobble some KitKats and read some romance.
I experienced a growth spurt once. Those of you who know me are probably giggling, but it’s true! When I was ten-years-old, I shot up in height like a rocket reaching for the stars. Unfortunately, it was short-lived and by twelve, I was closer to Earth’s epicentre than the Galaxy’s stars. I am a short stack, a pocket rocket, fun-sized, a small fry. I am 5 feet tall… on a good day.
I can’t say that it was unexpected given my dad is 5 foot 1 and my mum is 5 foot 2. I had no hope with those kinds of genes. My brother got lucky somehow and ended up being 5 foot 9. He must have gotten more vitamins in utero than me.
Suffice to say, I can’t help but envy tall women, what with their long limbs and elevated view of the world. Just think about how useful being tall would be! If I was taller than my 5 foot short stack, I would not…
Need to do a hop, skip and jump over big puddles! I’d simply step over them.
Get bruises from door handles when my sleeves get caught.
Buy 3/4 pants to substitute for full-length pants.
Buy shoes from the kiddie section because women size 5 shoes are impossible to find.
Adjust the car seat all the way forward and upwards to reach the car pedals and to see over the dashboard.
Ask random strangers for help getting products from top shelves at the supermarket after making a dunce of myself by jumping up and down like a loon.
Ask a random stranger to check if I made the 150cm height restrictions for accompanying adults so I could take my 4-year-old son on a mini go-kart ride at a carnival.
Have to explain to a cop that I was indeed the mother of two children and not their underaged babysitter.
Be mistaken as a young child when on ordering drinks from McDonald’s. I don’t even say this in jest… a few days ago, I overheard a server yell ‘get the little girl her drink order’ to his colleague before correcting with ‘I mean, the lady’ upon second glance. Talk about mortifying!
Do you really need more examples? I think you’ve probably laughed enough at my expense.
There must be yang to this yin, right? Pros to these cons? Let’s see… (thinking)… give me a minute… (thinking harder)… hmm… (brain starting to hurt)… I’ll have to get back to you on this.
Anyway, I can’t change my height, and I wouldn’t want to if it meant I wasn’t the person I am today. I guess I’ll continue to graciously accept hearing people say ‘great things come in small packages’. At least people aren’t cracking jokes about how down to Earth I am or how I’ve got a great perspective on life because I’m always looking up.