The Rules Parents Make Up.

Three days have passed since we celebrated Easter.  The wine, the arguing and the candy have all returned full-force.  True, none of us at the Wiles household experienced a totally abstinent Lenten season.  There were slip-ups, or should I say sip-ups, but of all the things back in our house, the one thing I'm already exhausted by is the candy.  (You didn't think I was going to say "the wine," did you?)

Parents constantly have to make up new rules.  The standards -- "Be nice," "Don't forget your manners," "Don't run with scissors," and my father's favorite, "I'm not paying to air condition the backyard," really don't cover as many situations as you'd hope.

Among the many others I've added are:  "No one wants to smell your feet," "Fist-size is not bite-size," "Jock straps don't go on your head," and "Never break up with someone by text message."  Those last two were made up for the same child.

There's also:  "If you can't brush it, you can't have it" (regarding hair), "If I can hear it, it's too loud" (regarding iPods), and "If I can see it, it's too small" (regarding clothing).

Finally, there's:  "Washing your hands requires actual water -- and soap," "Gummy worms are not an entree -- even on top of ice cream," and "Chick-Fil-A is not your actual home (although Starbucks may be)."

As a teenaged babysitter, I once had to spontaneously invent a rule for a kid who had lost a tooth:  "Teeth don't go in ears."  Huh.  Didn't work.

But here's the newest rule, which will welcome my kids upon their return from school today, "No more candy -- ever."

OK.  Even I can't impose that one, but still, I've got to come up with something to manage all this candy. 
I'm tired of stepping on sticky, half-masticated jelly beans with all the color and flavor sucked off.  Those flimsy foil wrappers that are so decorative when fitted around little chocolate eggs lose their appeal when they re-appear in pet poop.  The earless, legless and eyeless chocolate bunnies seem more appropriate for a carnival freak show than someone's bedside table.  And the cat and the dog are wearing grooves in the floor, skittering after random Reese's Pieces and SweetTarts.

I'm tired of it.  And I need some real nutrition.

Lucky for me, roasted vegetables are a cinch to make.  And lucky for the kids, they won't even be home for dinner tonight to complain about my meal choice.  And that ends up being lucky for me too, because I know exactly where in their rooms to find dessert.

Jelly bean, anyone?

Pan Roasted Vegetables
The oven has to be hot, hot, hot for this to work -- 450 degrees.  Anything lower, and some of the vegetables can end up stewing, instead of roasting.

handful of baby carrots

1 fennel bulb, cut in wedges

1 parsnip, peeled, cut in large, bite-size chunks

1 onion, peeled, cut in wedges

red bell pepper, cut in large, bite-size chunks

asparagus spears (thicker ones are better)

1-2 garlic cloves, peeled

1/4 cup olive oil

2-3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

fresh rosemary

salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 450.  (If you've got a convection oven and ever wondered when to use it, now's the time.)

Toss all prepared vegetables with oil, vinegar and seasonings.  Spread carrots, fennel and parsnip (single layer) in a large baking pan, and roast about 20 minutes.  Stir in remaining vegetables, sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper and rosemary, and roast another 20-25 minutes, or until all vegetables are tender and somewhat browned.  Serve, if you wish, with another dash of balsamic or lemon juice.

Plan K (Asian Asparagus)

We've had a frantic weekend here at the Wiles household. Every single, best-laid plan was upended, revised, revised again, and in a couple of instances, entirely scrapped. Plan A evolved into Plan B, and suddenly, we were at Plan K, which was shaky at best. Arriving at that rickety plan was an exercise in nimbleness, negotiating, among other things, vomit, flight delays, dog diarrhea, birthday parties, Icee-soaked shoes, the possibility of snow, and car swapping. Plenty of reasons to renege on that idea of a "wine-free" Lent, if you ask me.

But that's the parenting gig. If you're not quick on your feet, you're not dead in the water -- you're just dead. Or you may as well be.

Consider a typical weekend night with a teen and pre-teen. You're going to be home for dinner? Great! You'll be an hour late? OK. Oh -- now half an hour early? I can deal. You're bringing two friends, maybe three? I can stretch. Oh -- it turns out everyone wants to go to the movies and make a meal of Mountain Dew, popcorn and Mike & Ikes?

DO I LOOK INSANE TO YOU? Don't answer that.

Could be time to simplify. I think I'll start by making one of the simplest things I know -- Asian Asparagus. It's not a meal, and since it's served cold, I don't really think of it as a sidedish. I got the recipe from my sister, who claims she could eat the whole dish herself. I actually have. Morning, noon and night, it's simply that good.

Asian Asparagus

1 bunch of asparagus

2 tablespoons soy sauce

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

1 small clove of garlic, minced

Blanch asparagus for one minute and drain. Immerse in ice water, drain again and pat dry.

Combine asparagus with remaining ingredients in a plastic bag and marinate, refrigerated, up to four days, turning occasionally. (Note: Tastes best if allowed to marinate overnight before the first sampling, but if you just can't wait, give it at least four hours. Otherwise, the garlic taste is too sharp.)