Something is going with me that I just can’t a handle on things. There are a lot of things that have gotten started (loading the dishwasher, folding the laundry, defrosting dinner), but just haven’t been completed. I really want to blame that literal time suck that is Daylight Savings, but it’s been close a week now, so I know the problem lies squarely with me.
When I have a few minutes to think about it, usually, if I can remember to shut the door behind me in the bathroom, I realize, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. Period. Well, and I’ve got a vicious circle of demanding wee ones that are always in need of a wiped nose, wiped bottom, snack, or some variation on a theme. Once I get one squared away and turn my attention to the next one, another one is coming up with a request. You ever see those street hustlers with the three cups and the ball telling you “Keep your eye on the ball, keep your eye on the ball,” as they do some Cirque du Soleil type tricks with the cups? Yeah, I’m the ball; the kids are the cups.
Even when I was no longer laid up in bed with the cast and crutches, I still feel like I had a better grasp of my time and to-do list. My system hasn’t changed; our routines are pretty much the same. I don’t know where things have gotten off kilter. I kinda want to lay it at V’s chubby little baby feet; she’s crawling now, which means, I actually have to stay on top of the housecleaning because EVERY.THING is going right into her mouth. She and I have this constant battle. I put her down so I can use both of my hands to — oh, I don’t know — tie my shoes — and she’s beelined to the fridge, running her fat fingers underneath to unearth some kind of who knows what. I see her, make a grab, but she’s got her fingers in her mouth. Up she comes on my hip, where I pin her arms in my armpit with one hand, while doing a fishing expedition in her mouth with my other. Ugh, she hates it, I hate it. Her head is whipping back and forth and I actually put words to the movements, as in “no, no, no!” Plus her little teeth are coming in, so I’ve got a ring of baby bites on my index finger. If I had them inked in, it would be a pretty sweet tattoo.
Come to think of it, I spend quite a bit of time doing the put down, pick up routine. There’s a lot of repetition at home, which is probably why I don’t feel as though I’m making any forward progress on other things. Oh, and the amount of time I spend in the car. Whoa. The sad part is, I’m not really even going anywhere! The hubs and I were talking about commutes the other day; his is 90 minutes, one way. A carpool run for me is about 45, but given the myriad of other things going on between drop off and pick up, I, too am in the car about 3 hours every day.
In any event, I’m trying to figure out how to delegate some responsibilities so that things get done around here. On trash days, I’ve started paying the girls a dollar to drag the trash bins up the driveway, back to the shed. We’re working on having them wipe out the sink in their shared bathroom with Clorox wipes after each use, because having to take a flathead screwdriver to some crusted up toothpaste is not fun. After the laundry has been done, I stack it up on my bed and call them in to collect their stuff. Clearing the table after meals is something I have to remind them to do every.single.time. they. eat – but, I’m confident that they’re going to remember on their own one day. Hopefully, it’ll come before they go off to college.
The girls have really wanted to help in the kitchen when I’m making breakfast or dinner. The workspace in my kitchen is not conducive to many cooks, even if I wanted anyone in there with me. I’m not saying that the kitchen is my domain, I’m just saying, I’ve got a flow and I like to be in there, flowing, if you will, on my own. Plus, I don’t want any little fingers getting burned, chopped, or grated, if you feel me. But, they are desperate to be in the kitchen and help me.
I wrestle with it because, like I said, I like my kitchen a certain way. I know several folks who know what I’m talking about. Another part of me thinks that if I don’t foster the interest in cooking, then they’ll never learn about volume, conversions, and why you should never use a liquid measuring cup for dry ingredients! I can’t wait for them to get to Home Ec. Do they even have Home Ec anymore?
So, I started off small. During the holidays, I’ll set them up at the kitchen table with cookie dough, sprinkles, and all manner of decorating paraphernalia Sometimes, I’ll let the babysitter take one for the team and enlist her aid in having the girls make cupcakes or brownies. My parents and my in-laws love having little hands help out, so rest assured that there’s always some kind of culinary explosion going on.
The other day, Co got her High Five magazine in the mail and found a recipe for a Spring Time Salad. The child would only eat snacks if you let her, starts hopping form foot to foot, begging to make this. I gently reminded her that the recipe included vegetables, in particular, asparagus. She was not to be deterred. So, during the next shopping order, I got her ingredients. There’s a pot-luck at church every Wednesday during Lent and there is a dearth of vegetable offerings. I suggested to Co that we bring her salad to the pot-luck. Wednesday rolled around and we got cooking.
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| Yeah, I made this! |
Mo, in her ever present quest for fairness, wanted to make something to bring to the communal table as well. I peeped into the fridge, casting about for something, anything that we could throw together and call it good. I introduce you to Cabbage and Broccoli Slaw!
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| Ta-da! |
They were so proud of themselves, they almost toppled over one another bringing it to the community table in the Fellowship Hall! And while we made our way around the table, dropping biscuits and chicken, green beans and rice onto our plates, we noticed that their salads were getting scooped up, too. Just not by Mo and Co. In classic kiddo fashion, my girls bypassed their own handiwork and went straight for the bread (they get it from their father!).
Well, I sampled the vegetables and they were delightful! I even had seconds. Trust me, there’s no shame in my pot-luck game and as one of my fellow parishoners said, “That’s the trouble with pot-lucks. You try your luck on what’s in the pot!”
Happy Friday, y’all!
Springtime Asparagus Salad courtesy of High Five Magazine
1 pound asparagus
2 hard-boiled eggs
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tbs. lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1. Snap the woody ends off the asparagus. Steam for seven minutes. Drain and rinse in cold water; Set aside.
2. Using an egg slicer, slice the hard boiled eggs. If you don’t have an egg slicer, chop the eggs.
3. In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice and olive oil.
4. Place the sliced/chopped egg atop the asparagus. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle with olive oil and lemon juice. Serve and enjoy!
Cabbage and Broccoli Slaw
2 cups red and green cabbage
1 cup shredded carrot
1 cup broccoli florets (no stems)
1/2 bottle of Stonewall Kitchen New Englad Coleslaw Dressing
1. Place all ingredients in a large bowl.
2. Mix well and place in refrigerator to chill at least 1 hour prior to serving.
3. Serve and enjoy!