Go For Crackers

Remember that time the world shut down and we were all stuck at home? Target started selling clothes that looked like we were all heading back in time, to start our own homesteads. The memories of that random time you and your buddies decided to toilet paper someone’s house brought you an actual anxiety attack at the thought of the wastefulness of that precious toilet paper? Facebook was a platform for all of your friends and acquaintances that had quickly acquired a medical degree. And suddenly everyone was a home chef and baker? Yah I’m trying to forget too.

One day while I was scrolling Facebook, trying to forget my bought of rage over my potty training toddler using a half a roll of toilet paper, clogging my toilet and putting our extremely limited supply in the critical category, I came across a nice neighbor that I had never met saying she had lots of sourdough starter to give away. This was a hard moment for me. One, ew. I don’t know who this is, where she’s been, if she had been exposed. Two, I’ve never made bread in my life. Three, I messaged her anyway.

It felt like a drug deal. Not that I have ever engaged in such depravity. So I guess I really don’t know what I’m talking about. I showed up to her home, my engine still running. I’m standing back from her door in a mask and hoodie and pajama pants because it’s cold and I haven’t been in public in ages. She gently sets the glass pickle jar down filled with the precious starter and some instructions taped to the side. She gives me a nod and shuts the door. Long story short I named my starter Amy Farrah Flour… wait for it… I know right?! And we’ve made lots of magic over the past couple years.

Which takes us to the present. One of the drawbacks of keeping this starter alive is you have to feed it like all the time. It’s like another person moved in. At least she doesn’t complain about my cooking and doesn’t require any extra laundry. And it feels so wasteful because I have to discard a bunch of it before I feed her. So I’ve been on the hunt for good recipes to use for the discard. Which leads us to today and this hysterical encounter with my daughter. This morning I found a great recipe to make crackers. My five year old daughter M is my little buddy in the kitchen. She loves to cook and especially likes to bake.

“Hey M, wanna make some crackers with me today?”, I ask.

“What?! That sounds like so much fun Mama! Are these going to be like graham crackers?”, she asks excitedly.

“Well no..”, I interject.

“We can make a house like we did at Christmas!”, she shouts excitedly.

“Baby, these are going to be sourdough crackers. So not sweet, more savory.”, I say with a grin.

She contemplates this for a moment. “Mommy we can still make a house out of the crackers! A cracker house! But we can call it a crack house for short!! This is gonna be the best crack house ever!”, she says with a crazy big smile.

Holding back fits of laughter, I agree with her. “It will be the best crack house in Texas babe!”

The Log Ride

Tonight I made one of my favorite dishes growing up, saucy porkchops. Which also happens to be my oldest daughters favorite now too. However, trying to get everyone to sit down and eat the same meal together isn’t realistic. Because why would all of my children want to agree on something to eat? That is crazy talk! I’d have better luck finding my favorite movie in the $5 bin at Walmart.

My youngest is the pickiest eater I have ever met. So we let her eat before us and then sent her upstairs to watch her favorite movie, while we all enjoyed a peaceful dinner with less screaming. Notice I said less. After a nice, quite dinner I volunteered to do the dishes so my husband could play games with the girls. Things were a little too quite upstairs though, so we asked O to run up to check on C before we started the games. Little did I know we were all about to play a super fun game, that was uncomfortably close to Jumanji.

O comes sprinting down the steps faster than a shoplifter with a giant pile of jeans. Her expression is a mix of horror and glee, but mostly horror. I mean come on we all have smiled a bit knowing our sibling was about to get it. And being the one to deliver the news to mom and dad is pretty great.

“Mommy!” she said in a panic. “Mommy, it’s everywhere! The water is on, mommy hurry, help!”.

I dropped my dinner plate and sprinted up the stairs. (I can do that now, thanks Jazzercise) With a scene that looked comparable to G.I. Jane (except I’m not nearly as cool as Demi and it didn’t look anything like G.I Jane), I was jumping over toys and a side stepping around books, kicking Barbies out of the way, until I reached the bathroom doorway and found myself looking at an unbelievable scene.

There she was. Happily sitting in the sink with the spouts on full blast. Kind of looked like the second floor girls lavatory at Hogwarts, except Moaning Myrtle wasn’t doing the flooding this time. It was my soon to be 2 year old.

“C!!” I yelped. I stepped into the bathroom, water completely covering the tops of my feet as I turned off the faucets. I picked up my sopping wet toddler out of the flooded sink and sat her down into our new “baby pool”, that was about a half hour ago, just my bathroom floor. She smiled and said “You Ok?”

“NO! No I’m not okay!” I yelled. “R!!! Help me, get up here.. like now!”

As I’m standing in my brand new aquatics center, regretting my nice quite dinner, I smell it. Ugh it’s poop again. Why is it always poop? I look down at the sink and there are nice little nuggets floating cheerfully in the water. Talk about a log ride. They were cascading down the sides of my sink onto the floor as well. I look at C and she smiles. It’s a damn good thing you are 1 and you are cute. My poor husband gets to the bathroom door and looks exasperated and horrified. I’m so angry, I can’t even process what’s happening. 1. She could’ve gotten seriously hurt and 2. My brand new @#$%^&* house!!

I hand him over the baby as he hands me a giant pile of towels. About 14 Frozen and Paw Patrol beach towels later I had successfully mopped up all the water and poop from the floor, sink and in the cabinets. Now to disinfect everything and start another huge ass pile of laundry. I guess I had been meaning to clean my floor boards anyway, so I can check that off my list now.

As I’m finishing up scrubbing the last piece of floor I feel this little hand on my shoulder? It was C. Smiling at me with that ridiculously cute smile, holding a plate with a fake cup cake on it. “You mommy!” I take the cake and the hug that came with it. After she leaves the bathroom I hear yet again another shriek and a crash coming from down stairs. So naturally I closed the door and ignored them.

R comes up later, I couldn’t even ask him what the last scream was about because he looked like he was about to scream as well. C’s little Niagara Falls fiasco had leaked into the ceiling of the garage, directly on the garage door opener, to the top of my car and down and out into the driveway.

Long story short we tucked the girls into bed super early and had a stiff drink or two. I can’t remember. I may have also called my mother and told her I quit. She is coming down now in a month. Halleluiah!

This morning as I was leaving the house trying not to remember the happenings of the previous night, my garage door opener wouldn’t work. SOB!!!! It all came flooding back. (See what I did there). Luckily the app on my phone worked to shut the door. Now if only there was an app to control my kids.

Ice Cream and Deadbolts

Ya’ll this afternoon was hot. Like you better inhale that Bomb Pop now before your face looks like a scary ass clown kind of hot. Luckily O was at camp this afternoon, so I just had M and C to cart around. It’s amazing how being one kid down feels like a mini vaca! Target was kind of a breeze. I could’ve spent an entire day and salary just looking around, but I could tell I was on a very limited time frame with the girls and we still had to go pick up the dog at the groomers. I love it when Georgia, our dog, gets groomed. One she smells way better and two she looks like a very cute shaved Ewok. When we got home from all our errands, the girls were begging to go outside and play in their ridiculously awesome playhouse. Thanks again mom and dad. By this time of day it’s in the shade so I said go ahead. I needed to get some things ready for dinner anyway and it would be nice to do so without toddlers ridding on my legs like a couple of koalas. Although my calf muscle are looking tight lately.

After a few minutes I realized that things were too quite. You know what I mean? Kind of like when all the birds stop chirping when a big storm is near. So naturally I dropped everything and sprinted outside to see what they were doing. Well M decided that the house needed a little face lift or she thought she was the next Van Goh. She colored the entire side of our brown house, including the door, with bright blue chalk. I have to admit for the time she had unsupervised she covered a lot of ground.

“Why did you color the house?” I asked.

“What?” she looked at me with giant innocent eyes and a bright blue hand.

“Chalk stays on the ground only!” I said raising my voice and trying to keep my cool.

I told her to go into the house, which she was not pleased about at all. She started to melt down and asked for her binky, for like the billionth time and of course I said no, yet again. Side note, this is day 2 of no binky. (Prayers and gin are welcomed.) She glared at me with those mischievous beautiful brown eyes and slammed the door. I drug the water hose out and sprayed the blue Smurf massacre off the house. C found all this quite amusing and cheered for me. When I was done I picked her up and smelled a very ripe diaper. Great it’s all over my arm. I go to walk into the house and run into the door, smack! It’s locked….

I knock on the door and loudly call for M, “Unlock the door please!”

So our back door is in a small hallway between our bedroom and the living room. I can see most of each room. She comes strolling casually around the corner of the living room, smiles almost as if she’s surprised to see me and shakes her head no.

“Open. The. Door. Now.” I repeat sternly.

She considers my request and tries to unlock it. After a few failed attempts she successfully unlocks the bottom lock, but to my surprise she had somehow managed to lock the dead bolt above as well. Well Crap. I finally gave up trying to point out and describe the dead bolt to her. Well mostly because she got tired and walked away from me.

So I ran over to the next door neighbors house hoping they still had a key to our house. Not home. Ran across the street to our other neighbors’ house. Not home. Shit. No literally, C had gone again. I was reaching desperation. It was 102 degrees out, I’m barefoot and this diaper can’t hold much more. Third times a charm right? Luckily it was. Our other neighbor was thankfully home and let us in to use her phone. Thank goodness I knew my husband’s phone number. Ah voicemail. Well I expected that I guess. I don’t pick up when I don’t know the number either. Now I was just praying that he listens to the voicemail and doesn’t decided to go run errands after he picks up O.

I thanked my neighbor and ran back over to the house. Out of all my kids I knew M would be the least panicked about being alone. And I was totally right.

I got back into the backyard with C and went up to the door. I looked in and didn’t see or hear M anywhere. So I knocked… and knocked again. Then I see her. She is sitting on the floor with a fist full of ice cream, in front of the door. A half-gallon bucket of mint chocolate chip ice cream is sitting securely between her legs.

“M!” I yelled. “Put that away now!” I like how I thought I had any control in this situation what so ever. I’m cute like that.

“No.” she retorted calmly. Then she got up calmly with the ice cream and walked into my bedroom. Then back into my bathroom, turns and faces me with a chocolaty smile and oh so sticky hands and slams the French doors to the bathroom shut.

I stand there for a moment full of rage and then I start laughing. Well at least I know she is eating the ice cream on the tile now. I embrace the moment. I know M is safe, I mean there is at least half of that container left. That will take her awhile. I strip down C to nothing and wash her off with the hose. She thinks this is all hilarious and wonderful. My kind neighbor stops by with a cold bottle of water and encouragement.

“This is a hard time in motherhood! You’re fine!” she said kindly.

Damn. She is right! So I sit myself down, crack open a nice cold water (in my head it was beer) and sat there spraying my naked baby with a hose until my husband came home.

The Dehydrated Philosopher

I initially wrote this story for my four-year-old a while back. After her sisters have arrived, I’ve found the content to remain just as true today. These past four years have been hard, sticky and amazing. As other people would say, I’m in the thick of it. Even though they give me anxiety attacks, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Personally, I’m grateful I had my kids in my 30’s. My 20’s were so fun living with my girlfriends, dating the wrong guys and traveling all over the place. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious of a younger mama’s energy level and stamina.

I had my children close together, almost two years between the oldest and middle and less than a year and a half between the latter. This can be extremely challenging at times, but again I wouldn’t have it any other way. I always find it odd when people react to the closeness. “Are they twins?” “No they are not actually!” Then comes the judgmental facial expressions saying you know what causes this right… In my head I kindly respond “Sorry Linda let me go back in time and ensure there’s more of a gap to please you.” Anyway, they play and fight so well together it warms my heart.

So for any of you in similar situations, feeling the stresses of motherhood pounding you into the ground. Here is to you mama! I see you! You are doing a great job! Hang in there! This isn’t easy. Whether you are young or of “advanced maternal age”, have 1 kid or 6, we are all in this together. It takes a village, patience, a little wine and a lot of prayer. We are in the thick of it but we will power through!

To My Dearest Toddler with Love,

My beautiful daughter, I have decided today was a day worth reliving with you. I am very excited about this. We are going to have the most exciting adventure. In 30 years, I’m going to come stay with you. Exciting, I know. I haven’t decided if I will bring your father with me on this adventure. I may take this one solo, however it would be a blast to do this with him.

I will promptly arrive for dinner via Uber or whatever a popular shuttling service for the elderly we have then. I will greet you with a great big hug and then ignore you completely and sit in your living room watching TV. You will tell me multiple times that dinner is ready. I will continue to ignore you until you have to come in and turn off the TV. Then I will be shocked and excited that dinner is ready. I will find my seat and not like it. I will make you switch places with me and take your fork and give you mine because I know yours has to be better. After a fun game of musical chairs, you will find that I am grossly disgusted at what you’ve cooked, refuse to eat it and beg you for cheese. Then I will proceed to give the cheese to your dog and ask for a cookie. What’s that, you don’t have any cookies? Whip some up NOW! This tantrum isn’t going anywhere any time fast so you may as well cave and make it happen.

When you are only half way through dinner, I will inform you that I have to use the potty. However, I need you to sit by me on the floor and read books while I try to poop. You will likely lose your appetite, but I don’t mind, dinner was gross anyway. No reason to worry, I will enjoy your company.

As you try to clean the kitchen I will demand that it’s time to take a bubble bath. As you kindly draw my bubble bath, I harass you from behind declaring you will not turn off the faucet. I require the water up to the top of the tub. I will splash around like a deranged sea otter for about a half hour until my water is ice cold. I will attempt to convince you that I’m fine and it’s warm whilst realizing that I have to use the potty yet again and leave your toilet seat soaking wet as well as your toilet paper roll. This will be an incredibly fun surprise for you in the middle of the night. The walls and floor will be covered in water as well. I will do everything in my power to miss all the towels that you have carefully placed all over the floor.

After a bath I would like to squirt out half a tube of toothpaste and argue with you that it’s not enough. Once I have my desired amount, I will turn on the faucet and rinse it off completely because your toothpaste is too spicy. I will then decide I don’t want to brush my teeth at all. Next I will proceed to run around naked through your house while you try to put pajamas on me. This will be quite a show for your neighbors. Fair warning, you may want to shut the curtains beforehand. Good luck! Once dressed and ready for bed I will be hungry again. Do you have any more of that cheese? Or cookies would be okay.

Once you’ve explained why we eat all our food at dinner and shouldn’t eat at bed time, I will firmly hand you a stack of 25 books I’ve carefully picked out for you to read me. Don’t you dare skip pages! I will know.

Tuck me in, say my prayers and turn off the light. Then I will call for you because I have turned into a dehydrated philosopher. I need water and as you arrive with my refreshment, I will ask you all sorts of questions to delay my actual bedtime and preventing you from accomplishing anything for the evening. Oh and by the way, I need a new pillow, this one is weird. The one you have on your bed will do just fine. And can you please take that picture off the wall, they are looking at me.

About 2 a.m. I will crawl in bed with you, but you should know I like to sleep sideways with my feet in your face. It makes me feel closer to you. At about 6 a.m. (if you are lucky) I will wake you up demanding more cheese and the use of your phone so I can watch the Wiggles and blast their charming music in your ear until you get up to get me that cheese we talked about earlier. After my breakfast, you will likely look like someone the government interrogated for 72 hours straight and will be ready for me to go back to my house. So I will happily sit in the back seat of your car singing at the top of my lungs and kicking your seat as hard as I can. As you try to keep your cool and ask me repeatedly to stop. I may scream and cry for no reason at all, from time to time. When we get to my house I will give you with the biggest smile, warmest hug and sweetest kiss and you will forget all the misery I put you through. Because that is what we do.

I know that I will miss these moments someday, but I find comfort knowing you will have to go through this as well. I’m reminded of this when I call my Mom, tell her the adventures of the day and on the other end of the phone all I hear is laughter. “That sounds about right!”

So dear daughter of mine, please remember I will always love you and be here for you. Love you kiddo!