Tonite I received a gift whose worth cannot be measured in gold or diamonds. My fellow wives and mothers, you can surely appreciate this. This evening I took a shower that was not interupted. Nothing, not even a knock on the door. It was heavenly. It was also the first time it's ever happened.
My usual shower routine starts off with me announcing through the house that I plan on showering in 5 minutes, if you have to use the bathroom, go now! I always am answered by, "I just went", or "I don't have to go right now". I wait until 1 minute before I'm ready and yell loudly that I will be stepping in the shower in exactly 60 seconds. Again I am assured that everyone's bladder is taken care of. I then proceed to get in the shower. The water is hot and relaxing. I'll then wet my hair, and scrub in the shampoo. For some reason, I've never been able to use the recommended dime size amount, I use way too much. So here I am with a headful of suds when I hear a metallic clinking sound. It's the kid (the one who had assured me they had just went to the bathroom) picking the lock with a butter knife. Now when I'm looking for a butter knife, they are nowhere to be found, but let a door be locked, and they crawl out of the woodwork. Child enters, uses bathroom and flushes a nano second before I scream out, "Don't Flush!!!". I'm left cowering in the corner of the shower, dodging the ice cold water with shampoo running down into my eyes.
The other usual scenario is for them to wait until I am warm and relaxed. Steam building up, swirling around the bathroom, so thick you can't even see through it. That's when I hear the lock being picked. I poke my head out from behind the shower curtain and watch my steam make a hasty escape through the open door, leaving me to freeze when I get out. Child will smile at me and then ask how to defeat the castle on the 4th world of Super Mario Brothers. The nerve of these people!
Tonite while I was in the shower, noone came in to use the bathroom, no castles needed defeating. My steam built up. I started to get nervous. I began to feel like Janet Leigh waiting on Norman Bates. I thought surely, just surely, something is fixing to happen here. Alas, nothing happened. I was able to enjoy a nice steamy bathroom as I slowly dried off, taking in this whole alien experience. I came out feeling like a million bucks. The job I have does not a paycheck attached to it, but the gift of being able to enjoy a simple shower is more than payment enough today.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
The Chocolate Pie Mission
The other day I was at the grocery store and suddenly got a hankering for a chocolate meringue pie. Now for my friends who aren't southern, a hankering is a sudden urge, bordering on obsession, with having something. The more I thought about that chocolate pie, the more obsessed with it I got. But I didn't want some premade pie from the bakery, that seemed almost like cheating. I wanted a good old fashioned, home-made chocolate pie. The only problem was I couldn't remember the recipe. I thought long and hard, and all I could remember was eggs and cocoa. I spied some older ladies working in the bakery, aha! I'll ask them. I hate to make speculations about people judged on appearance alone, but I knew these gray haired gals would surely have a chocolate pie recipe filed away in their brains.
Trying to make my way slowly there, so as not to give off an air of a crazy woman with no thought in her head but a yummy chocolate pie, I edged my buggy up and softly called out, "excuse me". They both turned to look at me, and I told them of my hankering for the chocolate pie, and the quandry I was in because I couldn't remember the ingredients. They stood there quietly for a second, and I thought, "yes, I am fixing to recieve someone's delicious pie recipe that has surely been passed down from generations ago". Instead of divulging a secret recipe, one of them said, "I haven't made a chocolate pie in years, I wouldn't even know where to begin". The other one then informs me that she usually just buys her pies from the bakery. Are you kidding me? What respectable older woman, especially an older southern woman, doesn't have a chocolate meringue pie recipe committed to memory?
I then set off on a mission. I reached deep into my memory and finally found the recipe (or is that a recipe for fudge? What does it matter, they're both good) I went through the store frantically grabbing ingredients. I came home and rushed to my recipe box and found MY recipe. I had managed to remember all the ingredients, which gave me a sudden rush of superiority over the ladies at the grocery store. I then spent a good hour assembling my ingredients, mixing, cooking, and baking until I had indeed made the perfect chocolate meringue pie.
But it was with a note of melancholy that I baked. I had to ponder on how many children of this generation are missing out on home-made goodness because of the convenience of ready made? I realize at the end of the day, they both taste similar. I like to think that I add an extra ingredient in my cooking of home made food that Betty Crocker or any of her co-horts just aren't capable of producing. Love. And that my friends, is quite delicious.
Trying to make my way slowly there, so as not to give off an air of a crazy woman with no thought in her head but a yummy chocolate pie, I edged my buggy up and softly called out, "excuse me". They both turned to look at me, and I told them of my hankering for the chocolate pie, and the quandry I was in because I couldn't remember the ingredients. They stood there quietly for a second, and I thought, "yes, I am fixing to recieve someone's delicious pie recipe that has surely been passed down from generations ago". Instead of divulging a secret recipe, one of them said, "I haven't made a chocolate pie in years, I wouldn't even know where to begin". The other one then informs me that she usually just buys her pies from the bakery. Are you kidding me? What respectable older woman, especially an older southern woman, doesn't have a chocolate meringue pie recipe committed to memory?
I then set off on a mission. I reached deep into my memory and finally found the recipe (or is that a recipe for fudge? What does it matter, they're both good) I went through the store frantically grabbing ingredients. I came home and rushed to my recipe box and found MY recipe. I had managed to remember all the ingredients, which gave me a sudden rush of superiority over the ladies at the grocery store. I then spent a good hour assembling my ingredients, mixing, cooking, and baking until I had indeed made the perfect chocolate meringue pie.
But it was with a note of melancholy that I baked. I had to ponder on how many children of this generation are missing out on home-made goodness because of the convenience of ready made? I realize at the end of the day, they both taste similar. I like to think that I add an extra ingredient in my cooking of home made food that Betty Crocker or any of her co-horts just aren't capable of producing. Love. And that my friends, is quite delicious.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
No New Year's Resolutions For This Gal
It's that time of year again. Time to set some new year's resolutions. Or, if we're being honest here, it's time to set ourselves up for failure. New year's resolutions always seem like a good idea, until it's time to break them, then you come away feeling like a sorry, dejected loser.
This year, instead of setting resolutions that won't be kept, I've decided to give myself permission to NOT do things. Before you discount me as a cuckoo, let me explain..
1. I'm giving myself permission to not worry about my weight. While it's true that I'm not rocking a super model figure, I am far from looking like a manatee. It's okay to strive to tighten up what I have, but no longer do I have to feel like I'm too big to be seen as sexy.
2. I'm giving myself permission to not feel bad about asking for help with the housework. It's true that I am a stay at home mom, but that doesn't equate with me being an indentured servant. Picking up after 5 people, plus keeping them fed and in clean clothes is a big job. I can't do it all by myself.
3. I give myself permission to not stress about my inability to find a job out in the "real world". There are so many things I can do from home to make money, it's time to focus on that.
4. I give myself permission to not agonize about people who are mad at me. If they're mad, they'll just have to stay mad. I've decided to take my hurt feelings, put them in a box with a pretty pink bow, and hand it to them. It takes too much of my energy to deal with it, and I need all the energy I have to chase after 3 kids.
5. I give myself permission to not expect my husband to solve all my problems, that's my job. He actually has problems of his own. But we can work on all of life's big problems together, that would be just fine.
So you see? By giving myself permission to not set resolutions that are easily broken, I can instead tell myself that its okay to not sweat the small stuff. Now if that doesn't sound like a recipe for success, I don't know what does.
This year, instead of setting resolutions that won't be kept, I've decided to give myself permission to NOT do things. Before you discount me as a cuckoo, let me explain..
1. I'm giving myself permission to not worry about my weight. While it's true that I'm not rocking a super model figure, I am far from looking like a manatee. It's okay to strive to tighten up what I have, but no longer do I have to feel like I'm too big to be seen as sexy.
2. I'm giving myself permission to not feel bad about asking for help with the housework. It's true that I am a stay at home mom, but that doesn't equate with me being an indentured servant. Picking up after 5 people, plus keeping them fed and in clean clothes is a big job. I can't do it all by myself.
3. I give myself permission to not stress about my inability to find a job out in the "real world". There are so many things I can do from home to make money, it's time to focus on that.
4. I give myself permission to not agonize about people who are mad at me. If they're mad, they'll just have to stay mad. I've decided to take my hurt feelings, put them in a box with a pretty pink bow, and hand it to them. It takes too much of my energy to deal with it, and I need all the energy I have to chase after 3 kids.
5. I give myself permission to not expect my husband to solve all my problems, that's my job. He actually has problems of his own. But we can work on all of life's big problems together, that would be just fine.
So you see? By giving myself permission to not set resolutions that are easily broken, I can instead tell myself that its okay to not sweat the small stuff. Now if that doesn't sound like a recipe for success, I don't know what does.
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