Whey Protein Nuggets.

If you are looking for a healthy snack that is simple to make, has no added sugar or salt, will fill you up, and tastes like it shouldn't be healthy... look no further.

My sister sent me a similar recipe from a Pinterest pin. I thought it was a great, super easy recipe, but, it needed something? I went ahead and added a few things to make this a better, more action-packed snack to prevent the growl in your stomach. These nuggets are a healthy alternative to banana bread for those decaying bananas in the fruit bowl. 

This is also my favorite pre-workout snack. I eat two with my supplements before I get started. If you are interested in supplements and what you may want to try, check out my page about those: Gym Fuel: Supplements for a meaner sweat and a stronger you. 

These little babies have a great amount of Flaxseed, for example. If you aren't looking into incorporating more Flax into your diet... get on the bandwagon; Easily one of the most health conscious ingredients that you can add to your grocery list. In addition to all of the omega fatty acids and beneficial fiber, these bad boys are known to stabilize estrogen production. These nuggets could help with PMS or menopause symptoms. Hell, all we want is chocolate and sweets, anyway. Might as well hide it in a cookie? And a healthy cookie at that!
Likewise, this cookie has a fair amount of cinnamon. Cinnamon is a well known metabolism booster, among other jaw dropping things. Read all about it here along with a few other vitamins you may want to look into? 

Bake at 350º 12 minutes
yields 35-40 nuggets
Serving size: 2 nuggets

2 scoops of Vanilla Whey Protein
3 *Heaping Tbsp **Peanut Butter
2 ripe Bananas
2.5 cups of rolled Oats
1/2 bag of Dark Chocolate Chips (60% or darker)
1 tbsp Cinnamon
1 cup un-sweetened coconut flakes
2 tbsp Flax seeds


Optional Ingredients
Coco powder and/or raw nuts of your choice. 

Just mix all of the ingredients above. Blend really well. I use a mixer. Use a heaping tablespoon (or a cookie scooper) and dollop them onto a lined cookie sheet. Bake and serve. I keep them in the refrigerator to preserve freshness. They can get funky if you keep them sealed up on the counter too long. 

*Heaping Tablespoons are not level tablespoons. A heaping tablespoon will hold as much of the product as possible. (Which reminds me to jack up the calorie content by a few more calories... and PROTEIN! Holla!) I use an actual tablespoon (not the measure-y kind) for this recipe. Check out this image at Foodie Fresh for an idea.  My friend made these the other day and they came out crunchy and granola-like. Sure, they have a hard outer shell, but they are soft inside. I have a feeling that the crunchiness was  because of the heaping confusion, and that's my bad.

 In defense, her crunchier version was awesome and it made for some FANTASTIC granola! Especially if you were to add some nuts? I will store that information away. Thanks, Erica!

**If you want to cut way back on the sugar, use almond butter or whatever super-healthy-nut-butter you want. There's not much difference between the über healthy stuff and the regular stuff other than flavor. Not that I've noticed, at least. Sometimes it's best to use the stuff that tastes good. To each their own.

My Mom Could Cook, Too.

I'm not your friend. -Mom

Wise, wise words if you ask me. I find myself saying  that very same thing to my own children because I too am not their friend... I'm their mom. No, this isn't a blog about food. Rather, about the woman who cooked my food and, more importantly, the woman who helped me prepare for motherhood myself.

She could cook, too. She would have been 71.

It's safe to assume that women never truly appreciate our mothers until we become one. Vomit-worthy and cliche, I know... but it's true. With motherhood, every kiss definitely does not come from 'Kay' and it isn't exactly a 'Parents' magazine cover. Typically, moms spend most of our time putting out fires. Most of us are one wet wipe away from tear-assing through the front door, screaming obscenities, ridding ourselves of our families once and for all.

Luckily, if you had a mom like mine, you are fortunate enough to have learned all of the necessary mommy tools that dull our natural maternal instinct to kill and eat our young.  Allow me to extend my knowledge of motherhood with you, learned from one of the best mothers who ever walked the earth, the lady who is responsible for my crazy ass; My mum, Carol Ann.

Carol tool #1: Fear

"Your ass is grass and I'm the lawn mower." 

Comedian Steve Harvey said it best, "There comes a time in every child's life when you need to beat them until they think they're gonna die." Mom would have liked that quote. She, like most mom's I know, was the "bad cop" in our household and yes, I feared for my life.

Fear isn't a bad thing. Fear is the number one thing lacking from today's children in this new world of PC. Calm down, we're not talking child abuse here and I can't say that I ever "got beat."  Long story short: Mom never hesitated to smack us when we were out of line... which wasn't often, because fear. She didn't need spoons or belts; there were no such things as "time outs," and she sure-as-shit never counted to three. If the traditional head cock/ mom-glare didn't set you straight, a swift back hand normally did the trick. It didn't matter if we were at home or in public. Mom didn't play that. In today's society, however,  mom's are hesitant to smack their misbehaving children because they think everyone has CYS on speed dial. I, however, learned from Carol Ann.

I was shopping at Aldi years ago and my youngest was misbehaving. I had enough of her shenanigans when she started licking... yes, licking... the freezer doors in the dairy section. I gave her the option to A) stop or B) I was going to smack her.  She decided to call my bluff and continued licking the freezer doors. Wrong choice. I grabbed her arm, smacked her mouth and casually threatened her three-year-old life. After which, we continued shopping, and all was right with the world. 

Until an older shopper gave me the dirtiest look. 

Before Nosy Nancy could open her mouth, I looked her dead in the eyes and said, "you're next." Thus, reinforcing my iron fist with not only scaring my child, but scaring the elderly shopper from aisle 5. 

Fear is a tactic that a mother must successfully master before pre-pubescence. Fear can be administered physically, when young... but is best put into practice, psychologically, when older. We'll get into that in tool #3. As I got older, I wished mom would have spanked me when I was acting out. In my opinion, spankings were far, far better than what was yet to come.

Carol tool #2: Elbow Grease

"Don't piss off the Indian Viking."

As I grew older and more mouthy, the threat of a smack to the face or bum was no longer as-threatening and frankly, Mom didn't feel like burning her own calories, either- so, she made me burn mine. Mouthing off to mom was a one way ticket to Lysolville. And it wasn't only the mindless chores she made you tackle: bed making, dusting, vacuuming... oh, hell no! Mom would dream up some of the most asinine bullshit cleaning tasks. Making me clean out her closet from top to bottom and color coordinate her wardrobe, for example. Wiping out and re-arranging the kitchen cabinets one-by-one is another example. She was notorious for making me scrub the baseboards, bathroom grout bleaching and de-furring the furniture with masking tape, among other brilliant, punishment tasks. Dad would come home from work and notice me on my hands and knees scrubbing the baseboards. He'd chuckle and say, "don't piss off the Indian." (Mom's side of the family was supposedly half Native American. A DNA confirms that's she was more Viking. Makes more sense)

As much as I loathed Mom's punishment-by-cleaning, I have to admit that it was a very, very effective tool. A tool that my little, miffed, twelve year-old-self would never have imagined that I would be using with my oldest daughter, 18 years later. As evidence by my picture to the right, my oldest will never leave the house without telling me again. All I have to do is mention "baseboards" and her fragile, first grade body would shudder. The phrase, "I'm bored" was music to Mom's ears and now mine. I can always, allllways relieve your boredom there, kiddo.

Here's a can of Pledge and a rag. Have at it! 

Carol tool #3: Manipu-miliation

"Meaner than cat piss."

No, this is not a George Bush-ism and yes, manipumiliation is the final tool in Carol's big bag of child rearing-fun. Mom was a board certified member of M.A., Manipulators Anonymous. She was amazing at making you feel like the dumbest asshole that ever basked in her glory. I'll never forget walking back home, early one summer morning, from a sleep over at my friend's house. All the other tweens got to stay until 10am, but I had to pack up my shit and be home by 8am. My friend asked me why my mom insisted that I return home so early? To which my reply was,

"Because my mom's a bitch."

And that's when I saw her head casually lean over the hedge... she was waiting for me, outside, on the patio and heard every. Fucking. Word. I'm certain her ears cocked upward, cat-like, when she heard the noun. My friend offered her sincerest condolences, bagged ass, and my day was about to get real.

Real ugly.  

I still feel my stomach churn re-telling this story. <shivers>

As I mentioned earlier, by this stage in my life, I was a tween and mom used my age to her advantage. If there is one thing a tweenage girl is obsessed with, it's her "look." Knowing that I probably got a total of 4 hours sleep and hadn't showered or brushed my teeth since yesterday, mom wasted no time jumping in our Jeep Cherokee and heading for the commissary on Ft. Meade, Maryland.  I begged her to let me take a shower, but, there was "no time." On the way there, she didn't say a word to me. Mom didn't even look at me. Pretended that I wasn't even sitting in the passengers seat. No music. No emotion. Nada.

Now, you have to understand that I was freaking out because many of my friends were grocery baggers at the commissary and they were about to see me, a "quart -low", clothes from yesterday... an all around hot mess. And mom knew it.

Mom was dressed to-the-nines, of course, which only added insult to injury. I dunno why all of the military wives look so damn polished for a grocery trip? But 98% of them do it. Still do it to this frickin day.

Don't you know Mom made sure we stopped and talked to everyone! She waved to all of my friends. There was a point when she told me that it was "too bad" that I couldn't have looked "more presentable," especially when we were bumping into so many of my friends. It was a nightmare. Then I got home, put away the groceries and got to cleaning. Mom never brought up the "bitch" comment.  NOT ONCE! After everything was immaculate and I groveled for her forgiveness, mom pretended like she didn't know what I was talking about and acted like nothing ever happened. Check. And mate.

I suggest trying Carol tool #3 on your tween when they are giving you grief? Be sure to do like Carol and strike when they least expect it. My youngest is not old enough for this tactic... yet.  I have it stored away for the oldest. She is now a Tween. Laaawd have mercy. 

In my high school years, Mom was always one hot-flash away from a neurotic melt down and it was in everyone's best interest to walk on egg shells. She wasn't always meaner than cat piss. Mom was very funny and very quirky. You always knew that she had your back! Her iron fist eased up a smidgen and she transformed into quite the practical jokester.

I remember her handing my infant niece to my dates, asking them how they felt about being a dad?

She used to give my friends this HUGE, horrifying, glamor-shots picture of me, and it would show up in random places- at their homes, in the mall parking lot, Friendly's.

My personal favorite was when she filled up my tiny purse with condoms and Gynol, so when I paid for my movie ticket, they spilled out onto the counter. Good times.

So in honor of Mom's early release from this world, I salute my Mom and all of the other mothers out there, doing the best that they can not to eat their young! I hope you enjoyed reading about my run-ins with my master of motherhood.

If you ever feel like pulling your hair out, remember: Don't stress. Get creative! Give Carol's tools for mastering motherhood a try.