Tag: #quarentined

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!”

I’m Fine.. Everything is Fine!

Day 3,210 of quarantine. How is everyone doing?  I’m going to be honest. I’m struggling a bit. I’m out of my favorite coffee creamer and my sarcasm is reaching a whole new level.  However, my play dough skills have dramatically improved as well as my Southern Style Old Fashioneds. Trying to find a new normal has been nothing short of a challenge.  Back in the beginning of March when I found out school was going to be out an additional two weeks, I panicked a bit. But I put my teacher hat on and made a daily schedule. I ordered all the necessary supplies, I was ready to rock.  I was like, I’m going to home school the crap out of these kids! They are going to go back to school ahead of the curve and I’m going to potty train the youngest and they are going to be like wow Traci, how’d ya do it? And I would act all humble and say something like, “Ya know, just doing what I can during these uncertain times.”   

I made a makeshift classroom in my living room.  I had desks, seats for circle time. A chalk board with all my circle time stuff.  Lesson plans from the basic Math/Reading/Writing to How to be a Lady/ Etiquette class.  We even FacedTimed with a good friend of mine, to learn sign language and learned a bible verse!  Look at me molding the minds of little geniuses! After the two weeks were up and my hair was a lot grayer, they extended the break another two weeks, and then another two weeks…. Shit got real, real quick.  The baby is still not potty trained. I gave up on my awesome daily schedule and just do the basics. I’ve painted all my kids bedrooms, two bathrooms and have gotten rid of 8 boxes of toys. Please please don’t send us any more puzzles or stuffed animals. Thank you.  

My husband is working from home now, which we are extremely grateful that he is able to do so. Even though he now has three very demanding and inconsiderate new co-workers, he seems to be handling the transition well.  Having adult interaction during my day is awesome! Except for the part where he has to actually focus and do his job. I’m trying to keep a steady daily routine and some sense of normalcy for the kids as well. I have about 40 minutes to myself during the day.  That’s the part where I make the kids go upstairs and play while I get a workout in. I crave this part of the day. Some days I’m really into it, other days I’m just yelling go back upstairs as I’m laying on my yoga mat in front of the fan pretending I’m at the ocean. If this ever happens again, God forbid, I’m thinking ahead about my quarantine location. 

This day in particular as I’m really trying to work out, my oldest comes running down the stairs.  

“Mom!  MOM! It’s an emergency!”, screams O.

When my kids play they seem to yell help a lot, so our word for a real problem is emergency. I drop my weights and sprint up the stairs. When I get to the top I hear it. This thud thud thud… and muffled “MOMMY HELP ME!”.

“What is going on?!”, I demanded. I follow the muffled scream into O’s room.  There on a heap of princess dresses and play clothes is my youngest C. With a look of pure delight on her face.  O points to the big red trunk where we keep the playclothes. “She’s in there.” O says trying to force back a sinister smile. 

“Why is your sister locked in the trunk?!” I shrieked.  Pretty sure my dog downstairs heard me and hid and am quite certain my husbands’ conference call could hear the whole debacle as well.  

“I don’t know mom, maybe she locked herself in there?”, O said cooley as if stating an obvious reason.  Que more thud thud thud. “Let me out!” yelled M from the depths of the trunk. 

“Where is the key?!” I said.

“That’s the emergency.” said O.  “I don’t know…”

Seriously?! Her room looked like a prom from the 80’s had blown up.  Or the rapture had occurred and only took the Disney Princesses. Or the cast of Downton Abbey had an after party. You get the visual. 

 “Well look!” I yelled. It’s a good thing that I am a child of the 80’s and watched my fair share of Double Dare.  I always dreamed that I would get chosen for that show. Hurtling through that crazy messy house trying to find all those red flags, was a dream! Who knew I’d be living that someday.  Okay I guess my house isn’t normally that messy, but today my daughter’s room was and my red flags were that key to the trunk! The stakes were a lot higher too. I didn’t have the fear of getting doused with green slime, I had the fear of calling the fire department, during a pandemic and major social distancing, to get my kid freed from a trunk!  I can just see the headlines now. “Irresponsible Mom With Out Of Control Children, Locks Toddler In Trunk And Breaks Social Distancing Rules.”

“Ah Hah!” I found the key under a pile of tea party hats! I quickly held it up triumphantly and inserted it into the lock.  The trunk popped open and M sat up rubbing her tear stained eyes. “Mommy! I found you!” said M with a sigh. She leapt out of the trunk, gave me a quick kiss and picked up her Owlette hat.  She turned to her sisters, “Lets Go!” and off they went. Galavanting off to the next bedroom to blissfully destroy. Acting like the best of friends they are and having no memory of the last 10 minutes of horror. 

As I’m standing there ankle deep in pink frill, with the prized key clutched in my hand, I’m reminded of a very important fact.  I have perfected the Southern Style Old Fashioned. I’m fine… Everything is FINE!