This is a compensated review by BlogHer and OxiClean.

Yes, but how does it work on cat vomit?

Not a question I ever thought would pass my lips, but I took the Oxiclean Max Force Power Pak review quite seriously. When one lives in a home with seven kids (COUNT THEM: SEVEN) and a minor petting zoo, one has some serious laundry considerations. Namely: foul odors, large loads and all the stains of the rainbow.

I’ll be honest from the get-go here: I’m not a fan of doing laundry. In fact, I dread entering that dark-little cavern and facing the mounds of wash that await. Touching all the dirty stuff as it goes into the washer and knowing—knowing only as a mother can—exactly what has happened to each article and who was responsible for every little travesty thereon makes my stomach turn.

Perhaps even worse than having to sort through and touch the massive amounts of fetid yuck as it goes into the washer is facing the crushing defeat as the “wash” comes back out of the dryer, after I’ve supposedly “cleaned” it all.  Now, I’m not a smart girl, but I know what clean is, and I can tell you this:  “Bright white” is not supposed to be gray, and “spring fresh scent” should not have the hint of stale urine.

So, when push came to shove, and I was asked to review Oxiclean Max Force Power Paks, my internal evil meter began to rise. I admit I was feeling quite smug. These Oxiclean people didn’t know who they were messing with; I have SEVEN KIDS for gawd’s sake, of which four are teenagers, two are in sports (pew!), one is a bed-wetter (pew, pew!) and five are sloppy eaters (three words: blueberry smoothie mishap). And as can be seen, I am not a “laundry person,” which is to say, I may, might, MAYBEEEE sort my whites if I have time; and don’t do small loads because—HELLO?!? Have I not mentioned?—I have SEVEN kids.

…oh and one queasy cat. (uy.)

It was a typical laundry day, which translates as having eight loads of wash waiting for my attention. The first load was composed mainly of formerly-white kitchen towels, dingy-white sheets and skivvies. As can be imagined, all items were once whitish, and I hoped that, in their clean states, these items would retain some semblance of “not gross.”

My expectations were set abnormally low, apparently. Which is to say, all the items came out beautifully—no exaggeration. My old sheets came out much brighter—they were actually white again. The food stains (blueberry and tomato) had lifted out of the kitchen towels. And the skivvies were noticeably brighter. They were still old, but I can’t blame Oxiclean for that one.

I will say I was in a state of disbelief. I wasn’t about to concede that one lousy load would influence my cheapness. Actually purchasing something extra to add it to my laundry is a big deal when you are on a budget as tight as ours.

And then I remembered the stain stick. Along with the paks, I was tasked with testing the Oxiclean Max Force Gel Stick as well. I smirked. Whites were one thing, but I was going to put this stuff to the test.

I weeded through the baskets until I found the worst of the worst: the drama student’s make-up tinged shirt; the bed-wetter’s jammies; the hand towel that was used to sop up the cat’s spew. I gel-sticked up the shirt and tested it on a few other articles, but the rest was going just like the whites: in with my regular detergent, the Power Pak and a bit of derision.

And then I filled up the washer with the rest of my load because I am cheap. No way was I wasting water or time on anything less than a full load.

And the truth is, my dark loads ended up noticeably cleaner as well. It’s odd to say that the darks were brighter, but…well, they were. The gel stick worked brilliantly; the stains were gone. And the kicker? Scent: Not an issue. Sports smells? None. Pet scents? None. Nighttime-accident odors? None.

I was more than pleasantly surprised: I was genuinely pleased with the results. There I was, giddy to be folding clean laundry. Go figure.

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Why else would she have kept the unopened packet carefully cloistered beneath swells of laundry in her filth pit (aka bedroom)?

Unfortunately, my upper body strength isn’t what it used to be and I can’t *quite* halt the Earth and reverse the polarity of the neutron flow to make time go backwards. Like, not even a little bit.So if any of you super parents can do that, throw me a bone here and help me out. Please.

I wouldn’t be asking to use your super strength if it weren’t, you know, MARCH already. And if we weren’t almost officially 2 months behind the gun. Oh, and if I weren’t now subject to some huge late-ordering fee for something I had no idea about until this morning.

Enough of my whining. Yes, the deadline for ordering was January 8, but the handout said “Go online to place late orders.” Fine. I decide I will.

That’s when I notice that graduation packages started at $120.00. *gulp*

Immediately the cheapo in me wonders if my grad really needs all this stuff. Like, the “Senior Pride Portfolio.” What is that? Is she going to ever need that in her life? Ahh, your college application looks excellent but, unfortunately, it lacks pride. Senior Pride, to be exact. If only you’d had some sort of portfolio…Maybe not.

And what is this—a “Bling Tassel”? Is it really worth $10? I mean, for that kind of investment, this Made in China rhinestone covered number 10 POS better actually raise my kid’s sense of self worth BY TEN WHOLE DOLLARS or it’s just one giant rip off.

And could she survive into old age without suffering massive pangs of regret for never having owned a “2010 Spinning Key Chain” or a “Senior Class Stein” (as in, beer stein– seriously)? I’m thinking maybe she can.

I decide to skip those items. A quick calculation and I see by not going the package route, I’ve already saved $55! WHOO HOO! What else can we do without?

Hmm…Specialized announcements and personalized name cards. Toughy…Well, sure, yes, I had them when I graduated. And so did everyone in my family. And all of my friends, and their friends and family and basically everyone in the whole entire human race but why should I feel any pressure to succumb to tradition? She’s just my kid, right?

And while I’m at it, who needs a cap and gown on graduation day? Honestly. I could easily make something out of some old sheets and a pizza box. And, and—

…and then one last little nugget catches my eye: The words “LATE-ORDERING DEADLINE” followed by the words “MARCH 1.”

My cheapness is overcome by my sudden need to get this thing done and done right—but first I’ve got to be able to get it done at all. Thus, I do what any mom worth her weight in salt would do: I call the ordering company and beg them until my eyes bleed.

And it works. Maybe I’m more of a super parent than I thought.

This week, I offer you one better: I have modded (to use a gaming phrase from my son) one of those recipes, to make it less fattening and equally delicious. In my household, less fat is always a good thing.

As you may recall, vegetarian is also super helpful.

Thus, I present my mom’s modded Chinese Hamburger Casserole, now called:

Chinese Vegetarian Hamburger Casserole

1 bag Morningstar Farms meatless crumbles
1 c cooked rice
1 can reduced fat Cream of Mushroom soup
1 c nonfat plain yogurt
1 c chopped celery
7-8 oz sliced mushrooms
1 large onion, diced
1 bag fresh bean sprouts (about 7 ounces)
1 can sliced water chestnuts
2 Tbsps soy sauce
1 can crunchy Chinese noodles
Salt & pepper to taste

Defrost the meatless crumbles in the microwave (regular setting, 4 minutes).

While that defrosts, sauté onion, mushrooms, bean sprouts, water chestnuts and celery, until onion is translucent.

In a separate bowl, combine Cream of Mushroom soup, plain yogurt and soy sauce. Mix well. Add rice, meatless crumbles and sautéed vegetables to the mix. Transfer to a 2 quart casserole dish. Cover and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Sprinkle noodles on top, and bake uncovered for another 15 minutes.

My kids loved this. All of them. If you need meat, substitute 1 lb of browned lean ground beef for the crumbles.

Enjoy!

I wanted to make a casserole, one of the many my mom made pretty regularly throughout my childhood. It was creamy (naturally) and had ground beef (of course) and vegetables (well, water chestnuts and onions, whatever) and in short, it was perfect for this kind of weather (READ: warm and gloppy and total comfort food).

Not only did mom dig up the 30-year-old recipe, she did me one better:  She drove to my house and dropped off a huge bag of lemons (from her tree), a bag of oranges (from her neighbor) and two ancient tomes that are worth their weight in gold. Here I’m talking about her church’s women’s club cookbooks, from 1977 and 1984, respectively.

Typewritten on someone’s old Corona and spiral bound, these books are rife with nostalgia, including every recipe from every church potluck I ever attended– from nut breads to cheese balls to every chicken dish imaginable. If ever I need 150 different recipes that include cream of mushroom soup, I’m set. In fact, I’m beyond set.

FACT:  Eating three or more servings of any of these recipes may result in  “Aortal Suicide.” (Great name for a band, btw.)

Rest assured these books also include such perennial favorites as “How to Make a Happy Marriage” and “Recipe for a Happy Day.” (My favorite ingredients: “Pinches of Warm Personality” and “Spice of life to taste.”)

Alas, I leave you with the recipe for Mary Murphy’s Potato Chip Cookies:

1 lb. soft margarine
3 1/2 c. flour
1 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1 c. crushed potato chips

Mix all ingredients. Drop by teaspoon on un-greased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for 12 to 15 minutes. Sprinkle tops with powdered sugar. Makes about 100 cookies. Freeze, if desired.

It doesn’t help that all the recipe sites I go to have Super Bowl menus on their homepages, and while I am not a football fan (that’s the one with the checkered ball, right?), I am a HUGE fan of Super Bowl food. Case in point: I have been looking forward to this Sunday’s feast since last October.

And yes, Super Bowl game day IS a feast day, a feast day of extraordinary proportions—referring of course to my greatly expanded proportions the day after. Unlike other more traditional feast days, I like to focus on the inner-part of the supermarket and avoid all the non-packaged, healthy foods at the perimeter. My motto for Super Bowl meal planning: If it’s not cardiac arrest inducing, why serve it?

The first stop in the grocery is, of course, the aisle that includes Velveeta Pasteurized Prepared Cheese Product. (NOTE: If you’re committed to eating it, you must refer to it by its proper title.)  Everybody in AMERICA knows that the Velveeta (Pasteurized Prepared Cheese Product) salsa dip is a must—AN ABSOLUTE MUST—on your Super Bowl menu. It is a tricky recipe, requiring both the cheese product *and* salsa—and the use of a microwave. Have faith: it is easier than it sounds.

While you’re at the salsa aisle, be sure to pick up at least three jars of salsa. Note that I used the word JARS. Prepackaged salsa made in New York City is just fine. In fact, it’s decidedly un-American to insult salsa of any make or from any region, ever. EVER.

That said, you’ll need one jar for the prepared cheese product dip and two for just regular dipping. Don’t argue.  Just buy three.

Right across the aisle there? Grab some chili. I don’t know, one of those galactic-sized cans. Or two. You can never have too much chili.

Next up: Chips. Chips are a big deal and you don’t want to find yourself on the short-end of deliciousness come halftime. So get many brands; I personally recommend Ruffles (excellent for dip traction), white corn tortilla chips (they’re prettier), Cheetos, pretzels, and Fritos. Now, I personally don’t care for Fritos, but they are essential in the making of Frito boats, by which some people swear.

I  have no allegiance to the Frito Boat, but since chili is on my Super Bowl menu, thought I’d throw it out to you all. (Like the proverbial bone.)

I am, however, a fan of potato skins and chicken wings. Well, I was back when I ate chicken. Now I just suck the sauce off the little suckers and put them back on the plate all sneaky-like.

Oh, and don’t forget the nachos. Or, if you prefer, the Seven-Layer Taco Dip. Or both. And guacamole

Some people are huge fans of the big sandwich on game day. I can see that– big sandwiches can be pretty fun. You know why? Because they’re big. Duh.

Dips are an important part of this menu—a staple. Mix sour cream with various dried soup packets and you’re set.  Mostly. Oh! Be sure to grab some Ranch dressing, because everyone likes Ranch dressing/dip on Super Bowl Sunday. It’s like having stuffing at Thanksgiving. Of course you’ll need the obligatory crudités to go with it. (Don’t kill yourself—some celery and carrots sticks will be just fine. And maybe a can of black olives, you know, to add color.)

And I think that’s it. I haven’t planned a dessert or anything because well… desserts usually don’t have cheese. But I’m sure I can find something.

Happy feasting!

p.s. Beer.

Just sayin’: The Pope & The Emperor

My husband and I just got back from what we lovingly call “AN ESCAPE!!”, complete with exclamation points. We actually got out of town over the weekend– sans kids. It was a huge achievement, in no small part because when you have 7 kids, escaping without one tucked away anywhere is pretty tricky.

We headed up to The City midday Friday, out before the crazy hail storms hit (battled by you brave people we left behind)– but into the same crazy rain storms that continued to pound our beleaguered, beautiful state.

While we didn’t make it in time for the Anchor Brewery Tour (which happens once daily and is FREE), we did enjoy meeting up with my friends from Imaginaria (friends made on the Internet—ones you don’t usually ever see, but meet up with almost daily in the ether) throughout the weekend.

Of the many things I’d love to share about this fabulous getaway, if you are planning on traveling to San Francisco anytime soon, heed these two bits of advice:

1)    BART: I hate driving into The City, especially since we end up walking everywhere anyway. Parking at our hotel was going to be $35 per day. No way did I want to fork out $105 just so my car could sit nearby. We had considered Amtraking the whole way, but that would have ended up being over $200 round trip for the both of us. Forget it. Investigating other options, we discovered that heading into Pleasanton and parking at the Dublin/Pleasanton BART station would by far be our best bet. The BART fare was $11.00 roundtrip, each. Parking was $1.00. For the ENTIRE WEEKEND. I KNOW, RITE?

2)    HOTEL VERTIGO: Staying at a hotel in The City can be crazy expensive, and then when you hoof it up the stairs to your room, you often find that you’re staying in a wardrobe closet. A friend recommended Hotel Vertigo to us—a kitschy little hotel in the Nob Hill/Union Square area. Newly renovated, our room was not only chic and very, very modern, it was actually a fairly large room. Best part? $87.00 per night. IN SAN FRANCISCO. Not too far from the BART station, close to Union Square, and downright adorable.
So if you’re planning a quick getaway or a romantic stay in San Francisco in the near future—to paraphrase Henny Youngman: TAKE MY ADVICE, PLEASE.