Home Life Laurie Nigro Brilliance and (convenient) stupidity: Don’t worry, Mom’ll handle it

Brilliance and (convenient) stupidity: Don’t worry, Mom’ll handle it

My kids are brilliant. Like, super-duper little smart-bots that can debate the gray area between right and wrong, speak, with knowledge, about the political structure of ancient China, proof-read their parents’ blogs, for spelling and grammar (don’t judge, we all need an editor) and discuss the possibility of, and inherent difficulties associated with, time travel.

I don’t tell you this to brag. Nor do I suggest that your kids should be studying archaic Chinese penal systems (I love my kid and all, but it’s kind of weird). I only mention this to highlight the glaring juxtaposition that is their simultaneous idiocy.

I understand that a certain amount of childhood ignorance is just that, a lack of information. I try hard to answer any questions that they may have, on varying topics. I’ve taught them that no question is a stupid question. Except that a lot of questions are stupid. Seriously, over-the-top, stupid.

For instance, “Can I have something to eat?”

Why do my kids ever ask this question? Has there been a time, in our charmed life, that I have had to say to my children, “I’m sorry, we don’t have any food. You cannot, in fact, have something to eat”?

The answer is no. There have been absolutely no time that I have said, “We’re out of food. Go beg from the neighbors.”

On the contrary, I have my house stocked up for the zombie apocalypse. There are shelves and shelves of food in our basement. I have two overflowing freezers and refrigerators. We have two pantries and get weekly food deliveries. To our door. And I still food shop. Every freaking week. Oh and we happen to grow hundreds of pounds of fruits and vegetables in our own damn yard. These first-world kids have never known real hunger. Or even fake hunger. The starving kids that my parents always guilted us with as children, would throw rocks at my never-been-hungry kids.

No, what this loaded question really means is, “Hey ma, get me some food. And, when I barely glanced away from my phone to visually skim the pantry, I wasn’t too impressed with my options, so how about you just whip something up? It should only take you a minute. I’ll just sit here and stare at my own reflection in this crown I was bequeathed by my true mother, the Queen, while I wait. Oh and hurry up, it’s been about an hour since you cooked me breakfast. I’ve nearly gotten all the food out of my teeth.”

Another favorite of mine is, “Do I have any clean clothes?”

I have a clothes addiction. I don’t try to hide it. I even justify it by shopping at thrift stores. After all, it’s no big deal to own 63 dresses if none of them cost more than seven dollars. (Don’t do that math or I’ll find you and kill you).

But in the end, 63 dresses take up a lot of room. Families members start to take notice, and even complain (ungrateful little creatures), when you slip a few off-season frocks in their closet because you’ve run out of space. (Here’s a tip though – a quality hanger can hold up to four winter dresses and six summer dresses.) No worries, I just start shopping for them. Transferring the addiction is totally normal and healthy. I mean, they can’t very well go naked.

As you can clearly see, no one in my home could possibly run out of clean laundry. Even if I went on a laundry strike and a buying freeze, there are enough clothes to last for weeks. And neither of those things will ever happen. I do laundry ever single day and Wednesday is half price day at the thrift store.

So let me translate this one for you, “I don’t like the clothes that are left in my drawers. And yes, I know that you wash my clothes, then hang them to dry, fold them and provide them to me in a personal laundry bag, but I do not enjoy putting these clothes away in my dresser(s) and/or closet. Therefore, I left them in the bag, still folded, and tossed my dirty stuff right on top. Have fun with that.” The alternate translation is, “I’m out of underwear.”

And still, I prefer stupid questions to stupid actions. As I was writing this, I went to grab a snack from one of my many pantries. While reaching for the cashews, I encountered an empty bag. A completely empty, completely see-through, falling-out-of-the cabinet-because-there-is-nothing-to-tether-it-to-this-world bag.

What, exactly, was the thought process behind this extraordinary act of brazen laziness? Because they know that when I find it, I’m coming for them. I will always know who did it and I will always be in a blind rage, spewing rhetorical questions, “Seriously? EMPTY?? Do I look like your servant?” demanding restitution, “Now you can clean and organize the entire pantry!” and mumbling incoherent insults under my breath. I’ll leave those out so I don’t have to deal with CPS. They have a lot of rules and seem very judgmental.

How can these children be so incredibly smart while also harboring stunning stupidity? I’ll have to ponder this life mystery while I rewash four loads of laundry and bake some freaking muffins (but nothing with raisins, they don’t like cooked raisins. And be careful with the blueberry, over mixing makes the whole muffin turn purple – what??). This is why I drink.

There isn’t a single omnivorous human who doesn’t like bacon. Even if they say they don’t, they’re lying to themselves. And I found a recipe for bacon and cheese muffins! It’s like God was rewarding me for not killing my kids. You can find the original at food.com (http://www.food.com/recipe/cheddar-bacon-and-green-onion-muffins-139432) but I made a few modifications (more bacon, of course):

Bacon Cheddar Muffins

Ingredients
1 pound bacon
1 cup old cheddar cheese, grated
3 cups flour (for GF, I used Bob’s Red Mill 1 for 1 flour)
1 tablespoon baking powder (slightly heaping)
2 teaspoons pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk or 1 cup half-and-half
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 onion, finely chopped and sauteed (I cooked with the bacon, once it released enough fat)
1/2 cup sour cream
2 eggs

Directions
Set oven to 375 degrees.
Set oven rack to second-lowest position.
Grease 12 muffins tins or line with papers (more bacon means more muffins – I got about 18).
Cook the bacon over medium heat until crisp; drain and let cool, then crumble into small pieces (this can be done well in advance or even a day ahead).
In a small bowl combine 2-3 tablespoons crumbled bacon and about 2-3 tablespoons cheddar cheese; set aside.
In a large bowl combine flour, baking powder, salt and pepper.
Stir in the remaining cheddar cheese and crumbled bacon; mix to combine.
Whisk together, milk, oil, sour cream and eggs, then add/mix in onions.
Pour over the dry ingredients; stir JUST until moistened.
Spoon into prepared muffin tins.
Sprinkle with reserved bacon/cheese mixture on top of the batter.
Bake for about 20-25 minutes, or until golden.

My little Gordon Ramseys did not prefer the bacon and cheese on top. You’ll have to decide what’s best for your household, but this is one bit of feedback I loved, because it means less work for me.

 

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Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.

 
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Laurie Nigro
Laurie is the mother of two biological children and one husband and the caretaker of a menagerie of animals. Laurie is passionate about frugal, natural living. She was recognized by the L.I. Press Club with a “best humor column” award in 2016. Email Laurie